#self awareness level zero strikes again

[super-paper]

Tomura: so like, hero and villain names used to be given to people by their sworn enemies in the old days— like, you know, probably around the time period that sensei grew up in. Not that that’s relevant or anything. Anyway, people also started using hero and villain names to hide away parts of themselves and create alter egos— and that’s part of the reason why so many people have trouble distinguishing fact from fiction and treat this world like it’s a comic book. None of that applies to me though! So I don’t need a villain name lol.

Me:

[dendrite-blues]

For a relatively short exchange, this scene is jam packed with characterization for Loki. 

It’s also our first reliable look into what Loki was like before Thor 1. Not as described by others, but first hand and from his own mouth. I think that deserves a closer look, to see what we can learn about Loki and how he thinks.

This scene is significant because it tells us what Loki’s personality is like when he’s not running for his life. It tells us who he was before his trauma and what his core beliefs are underneath those layers of humor and bravado.

Better yet, since he’s alone we can assume that every line in this scene is presumably true, or at least Loki believes it to be true since he has no audience but himself. 

The dialogue centers mostly around the statement “You deserve to be alone, and you always will be.” I’m not going to focus too much on the “alone” motif since I already dedicated an entire meta post to it.

What I think is more interesting about this scene is actually the looping, and the stages Loki goes through in trying to deal with it. There’s a lot of really interesting character traits on display in that progression.

Loop 1: A Warm Bath and Glass of Wine

The first loop entails Sif lecturing Loki about cutting her hair, kicking him in the balls, and storming away. Loki kneels on the floor and he gives us this great line:

“A bad memory prison? How quaint. Some punishment. I remember exactly what I did after that. I went and had a nice, hot bath and a glass of wine, and I never thought about it again. Because it was just a bit of fun.”

So we can take this to be Loki’s default reaction to pain and criticism. When put into an unexpected conflict without any forethought or outside influence, this is what he says/does.

1) Downplay the damage/threat. How quaint. 2) Dispel/soothe the emotion. Nice hot bath. 3) Minimize the impact. Never thought about it again. 4) Deflect responsibility. Just a bit of fun.

Keep those in mind as we move forward, since we’ll be using them to make sense of what else Loki says in this scene.

Loops 2 and 3: Okay, Sif, Hang On

This bit is about Loki realizing just how bad his predicament is.

L: Okay. Okay, Sif. Hang on. S: No, you hear this. You deserve to be alone... And I always will be. L: Alright, I get it. Listen. You are a reconstruction of a past event created by the organization that controls all of time. So you need to trust me and you need to help me escape. Yeah? S: Pathetic. (she kicks him again) L: (winces and groans)

As we all would expect from him, Loki’s first impulse is to try and talk his way out of it. What he says to achieve that goal is pretty revealing though. Because he doesn’t try to ease Sif’s upset by apologizing or explaining or offering to magic her hair back. 

Any of these would have been more likely to save his nads in the given circumstance, right? The present threat is Sif, and she’s mad about what Loki did to her hair. But Loki doesn’t really see that. Rather, he treats her as a means to an end.

“So you need to trust me and you need to help me escape. Yeah?”

To me, that choice reveals something of a blind spot Loki has to the feelings of others. Even if he doesn’t actively like hurting people, he does prioritize their problems below his, and quite shamelessly. And at least on his first impulse, he doesn’t seem to feel much remorse or empathy for them.

Usually in fanon we attribute this callousness to his trauma. He’s learned that no one can be trusted and no one cares, and so he doesn’t allow himself to care for others. 

But between his Loop 1 sentiment of “It was just a bit of fun” for an event which caused real hurt to Sif, and his Loop 2/3 behavior of “you, stop being mad and help ME” I think it’s reasonable to say that selfishness/low empathy are traits Loki possessed pre-trauma.

Loop 4-????: Happens Off Screen

It’s unclear how many times Loki loops while the camera is following Mobius, but the implication is clear that it was been many, many repetitions. Somewhere in this his denial and deflection must break, because we come back to a much humbler, more pleading Loki.

The Final Loop: I Crave Attention

S: You conniving, craven... L: Sif. Sif. S: ...pathetic worm. L: Please, please, no more. Please, I beg you. I'm a horrible person. I get it. I really am. I cut off your hair because I thought it'd be funny. And it's not. Uh... I crave attention... because I'm... a narcissist. And I suppose it's... It's because I'm scared of being alone.

HOOO BOY, so this is quite a tough bit to analyze. There’s a lot of interpretations you could make, and a lot of topics to delve into. For the sake of focus, I’m going to ignore the narcissism question. That one really needs an entire post, and I want to focus on something else here.

That being, Loki’s way of processing conflict/punishment.

I’ve always found it strange how Loki takes such pride in being called a liar and cheat when he simultaneously has this chip on his shoulder about how nobody likes him. 

Those two traits don’t seem to play well together, and I always scratched my head over how they coexist in his character. If he wants people to be nicer to him, maybe he should stop antagonizing them? Yeah?

Well, here we’re finally given a clear reason. Loki craves attention, he hates being alone. So how does he avoid it? Pranks and mischief. 

Fair enough.

But then, if all his pranks lead to this outcome--outrage, retaliation, insult--why doesn’t he ever learn? How is it that after 1000 years of this behavior, he hasn’t found a better way to get the attention he craves? 

Loop 1: Downplay, dispel, minimize, deflect. He accepts zero accountability for the impact of his actions, and doesn’t think at all about how they affect other people. Just a bit of fun. I had a hot bath and a glass of wine, and never thought about it again. 

The only reason he reaches the level of self awareness on display in the Final Loop is because the looping forces him to contemplate his actions and the impulses within him that lead to that behavior.

This is projection on my part, but to me he acts as though this kind of deep reflection is a new thing for him. He sounds like someone sharing a revelation that he’s just had about himself. We’re being shown that Loki is a man of action. He will always move forward if he can, possibly because looking back to so painful that he can’t bring himself to do it.

Circling back around to the pride Loki has for his knavery, let’s suppose that he’s been on this negative reinforcement cycle since childhood. He’s always acted out to get attention, then received retaliation and insults for it, and then pushed the bad feelings out of his mind with creature comforts and mental gymnastics.

What happens over time, when you’re being constantly told that you’re a pain in the ass and no one likes you? Most of us would take it to heart, but Loki doesn’t. He has a big ego, big enough to resist that constant barrage of hate coming at him.

So how does he marry these two conflicting realities? 

He turns it into an identity, the God of Mischief. 

In his head, Loki excuses himself of blame by shifting the culpability to his moniker. It’s not that he’s immature and petty, he’s just a “trickster.” It’s in his nature to cause trouble, so he can’t help it. You wouldn’t dangle a steak in front of a tiger and blame the tiger for striking, would you? And if other people can’t take a “joke” then that’s not his fault, that’s on them for not having a sense of humor. It was just a bit of fun.

Here we see the union of these two halves of Loki, the lonely ice runt and the mischievous scamp. (And a little bit of the original Loki who Thor accused of being incapable of growth!) 

By refusing to think about others, and excusing himself from responsibility, Loki successfully preserves his self worth and insulates himself to most of the negative emotions he experiences.

Pain, embarrassment, and grief aren’t pointless emotions though. They are vital feelings that serve to regulate our behavior, and that push us to conform to the ways of our social circles. Without them, we annoy and upset others. Be annoying for long enough and you will eventually find yourself, well, alone. As Loki is.

Thus “Mischief” is a self-defeating loop, and Loki is just as caught in it as the cell Mobius trapped him in.

In order to be free of both traps, Loki has to stop running. He has to take a deeper look at himself and realize how much he is getting in his own way. The entire scene is one big parallel between these two “loops.” Pretty neat, huh?

Sadly these kinds of thought loops are really difficult to break, they’re buried so deeply in our personalities and habits that we usually don’t notice them until life forces us to address them.

The cell is Loki’s wake up call, and thankfully he does seem to rise to the occasion. He tells Sif quite clearly what his problem is, and he does it with beautiful, painful honesty.

Which is why it’s so fucking awesome for Mobius to acknowledge that, and to finally give Loki a taste of positive attention. 

You don’t deserve to be alone. I believe you can be anything, even something good. Whatever you two did, it was powerful enough to bring this whole place down.

It’s a beautiful scene. Well written, meticulously acted. The clarity of vision in the pacing and shot selection, it’s really something special.

[iatheia]

There is one thing that I like about Chibnall’s writing the most - the more you engage with his writing, the more sense it makes, the more enjoyable it becomes.

RTD’s seasons wore everything they wanted you to think and feel front and center. Sure, it is a recipe for good, solid writing, you don’t miss any thematic links, all conflicts are pretty clearly set up, all references are lampshaded so that you’d be aware of them, everything is resolved, there are almost no missing plot threads. It makes for a good prime-time TV that could be enjoyed by almost anyone, and is exactly as good the second time as it is the first time, even if you watch it out of order.

Moffat’s writing makes less sense the more you think about it. There is a pretense that you need to be 400 IQ genius with Moffat’s sized brain in order to understand it, but, the emperor is naked. His writing is generally incoherent, flying by the seat of his pants, stringing the plot together without giving a single thought about how it impacts what came before, even if it is an episode he wrote just prior to the current one. He just throws glitter in your eyes to distract you, he keeps promising to resolve some sort of singularly grand mystery, but by the time he gets around to it, it morphed into something unrecognizable. He keeps aiming to “outsmart” the viewers by making sure that you can’t possibly guess what he is planning to do by outright lying to you - while at the same time “subverting expectations” by veering to the left in the least narratively satisfying way possible. I’ve heard more times than I want to count -“You’re just not smart enough to follow this story, here is the explanation” (continuing to summarize what is explicitly been mentioned in the episode via exposition and nothing else) - yeah, no, I got that, but it makes zero sense on the subtextual level. One thing that stuck with me after all these years is a conversation I had with someone who liked his writing who said that you aren’t really meant to rewatch it. You should just watch it once for the spectacle of it all, and never think of it again, because otherwise it kind of falls apart. Some are into this type of thing, I guess, it makes for striking individual scenes that stick in your memory.

Chibnall, though, he plans. He doesn’t write episodes - he is arguably not that good at writing individual self-contained episodes, he writes sagas, epics. He accommodates the requirements from higher-ups, but you can tell that these plot threads have been years - decades - in the making in his head. He will resolve the main emotional story beats, but along the way he would introduce dozens of other plot threads that he just doesn’t have time to follow up on. Even though a lack of immediate resolution may not feel the most satisfying when you just get an episode - It makes for a richer universe that is ripe with narrative opportunities, either for himself to continue in the future, for other writers (be it future showrunners or in EU), or left as an exercise to the viewer to imagine. Sometimes he seeds up certain beats so far along you wouldn’t recognize them as important at the time, and it takes a repeat viewing of past seasons to connect the dots, to have that moment of epiphany. It really does become 6d chess, delivering nothing more and nothing less than what he set out to deliver from the start. It does require engaging with the show in good faith. It does require openness of imagination. It does require willingness to consider possibilities, and not bury your head in the sand bringing up the same three “plot holes” over and over that have rudimentary answers if you just deign to spend more than a second thinking about it that barely even worth explaining at this point. But if you do, there is such a meal in front of you, ripe for analysis, ripe for theorizing, ripe for exploring subtext, ripe for canon-wielding, ripe for fantasizing and exploring the widest breadths of the universe.

For being the latest installment of the franchise, I have already rewatched a number of episodes from S11-13 a surprising number of times, more than I had even with my absolute favorites from the previous eras. And every time, whenever I let go of my impatience, my anxiousness to get to the end of the epic, I almost always enjoy it more the second time than I do the first, especially if I come back to it having seen what was built on its foundations.

Not everyone can afford this level of engagement with a fictional world. I guess, in contrast, it wouldn’t be as popular as a more self contained narrative, or a spectacle that just sweeps you along in a singular moment. Still. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[bigskydreaming]

I’m a big believer that Dick’s independence and self-reliance isn’t in any way rooted in him just being stubborn, prideful or self-destructive. I view it as being in his eyes a necessity….because on a deep, fundamental level….Dick doesn’t trust anything to be permanent. 

I’ll always go back to the fact that his character archetype isn’t that of the everyman, because he was of lower class origins compared to Bruce’s extreme upper class background.....but rather that given that Dick Grayson was allegedly exceptional from his debut, a child prodigy capable of feats of acrobatics few in the world could match....he could never actually be classified as an everyman. Rather, his core archetype is that of the fish out of water. The individual taken from the comforts of his original pond and thrust into a limelight of an entirely different nature from the one he grew up in, with the two not at all being interchangeable, and necessitating he change and adapt in dramatic and often unanticipated ways just to keep his footing in his new environs.

Its not incidental that his initial tragedy wasn’t JUST the loss of his parents, but rather the loss of his old routines, extended family, environment, way of life, expectations for the way his future would play out....it ALL vanished on the same night, never to return again. The loss of his parents was tragedy enough all on its own, but its really only one part of what Dick lost that night. He lost his entire footing. His frames of reference. Everything his life had previously prepared him for and everything he could have used as a familiar comfort or source of stability to lean on, if it had been ‘just’ his parents that he lost.

And I fundamentally don’t believe you ever get over THAT loss, no matter what peace you make with the loss of your loved ones or specific elements of that. Once you’ve experienced a shake-up of that size, once you have a bone-deep, visceral awareness of how completely your life can change in the blink of an eye, how you can effectively be set back to zero as though nothing you’ve previously accomplished matters (remember, he went from a kid whose name drew crowds on its OWN merits, based on what HE was capable of due to his own work and skills, the youngest of the Flying Graysons, capable of an acrobatic feat barely anyone else in the world could master......to being a kid who was only ever identified as in the context of Bruce Wayne having taken him in, as though his existence and worth were defined by someone else’s act of compassion rather than based on anything he’d ever done on his own, when the fact of the matter is even by age eight, he’d already accomplished a LOT)....

Like, the point is, you can’t go through a shake-up like that and ever fully FORGET how complete and total a change it was, how big a rewrite of your entire life story. 

That’s a trauma all its own, one that goes largely unacknowledged, and one that I don’t think Bruce and Alfred or anyone else fully realized was even there TO need addressing in the first place. So of course how could they ever fully address it, without realizing a need?

And I think Dick’s constant moves and self-reliance are actually born of that primal awareness that there are no guarantees, that nothing is truly permanent, that anything can be taken away in an instant.

He’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to be taken away again - as people have pointed out in other posts, Dick can never seem to have nice things. Even the apartment building he lived in while in Bludhaven….that wasn’t some height of luxury by ANY stretch of the imagination…was lost to him, along with all the friends and neighbors and community he’d built among them, something evidenced by how highly they all spoke of him, even to a total stranger. And that’s not even getting into how even the CITY he sought to establish himself as a guardian over, like, he lost the city itself. The CITY!

Dick, I believe, insists on holding down 9-5 jobs and paying his own way and only touching money that comes from Bruce originally, when like…he has no other option or its to help someone else….just like he’s resistant to ever fully putting down roots, at least none so deep that he can’t uproot himself and quickly relocate without ripping off a piece of himself and leaving it still buried in the ground behind him. 

Because deep down, he’s always bracing for the next seismic event that’ll rip everything away from him, and he wants to be prepared. He WANTS to make sure he never takes anything for granted. That if he loses it all - hell, if he and Bruce fight again and Bruce decides once and for all to take it all away from Dick, cut their ties, something that would very much be a deep-rooted insecurity for a kid with as massive of abandonment issues as Dick must have given his childhood and a number of events after that…

Dick I think needs to trust that he’ll be capable of surviving, of standing on his own two feet, if the worst should ever happen again and he’s left on his own again. His self-reliance and obsessive need for independence aren’t a REJECTION of anyone else or anything Bruce or others have ever done for him.

They’re simply the defense mechanisms of a boy who was once upon a time torn away from everything he knew and in certain origins was then on top of that plunged into hellish circumstances before finding a refuge with Bruce….

And the man that boy grew up to be, who is determined to never be caught in a situation like that again, where his very survival might otherwise require the kindness of a stranger….with Dick knowing better than to count on lightning striking twice there, and him getting lucky a second time.

So in a lot of ways, my core perception of Dick having spent more time growing up in the luxury of Wayne Manor than any of the other kids is that its largely irrelevant to who he grew up to be. Because he was still more than old enough by the time he arrived that he had formative experiences all his own that no amount of time was sufficient to overwrite and exchange for new ones.

His experiences are so extreme in terms of the loss of all forms of stability, that the SHAPE that stability takes in the periods where his life IS stable, is largely unimportant. Because its the absence of stability that’s the defining recurrence in his life. Even the stability offered by his childhood in Wayne Manor eventually gave way to canon where he left the Manor before he was even eighteen, as well as canon where no matter how it was ultimately reversed, he was for a time affected by having the ability to call the Manor his home STRIPPED AWAY FROM HIM. Thus even when Bruce did ultimately welcome him back, there still retained an awareness that even the fact that this had happened in the first place was a reminder that even THIS was something Dick could lose, that no matter how stable his childhood there had been at times, it couldn’t in and of itself be COUNTED as a source of stability due to the simple fact that his ability to call it his home HADN’T turned out to be an irrevocable constant. 

And so this is another of those areas where I think its fundamentally an oversight to have members of the family commenting on Dick’s self-reliance or tendencies to relocate himself, let alone in any kind of critical capacity......

If there’s not going to be an acknowledgment within the family or by the people raising these criticisms like, what kind of a role the family themselves have played in Dick feeling a NEED to have these tendencies in the first place.

If someone doesn’t trust in any place he lives in to ever truly be a constant in his life, truly permanent, that anything can be taken away in the right circumstances....and you yourself have done something that has made him feel or given him reason TO leave a place he’s found stability in at some point in the past....you kiiiiiinda forsake your right to be critical of his inability to see any place as permanent or constant, y’know?

Like, insert Miranda Whatshername gif or Meryl Streep peering down her glasses and going oh I see, you think this has nothing to do with you.

So I’d argue that Dick’s insistence on simulating the average person’s reality of livelihood, even when he has other means and funds available to him….just as his insistence on being as solely responsible for the well-being of the place or people he sees as his responsibilities, being single-minded about relying only on himself for tasks that he sees as ultimately having nothing to do with someone other than himself, etc....

All that is in my opinion BECAUSE he’s so firmly attached to the reality that anything and everything can be taken away, at ANY given moment. That he can be reduced to having nothing and no one he can depend on BEYOND just his own innate skills and experiences, the only things he trusts to be truly unable to be stripped from him by others.

If you ask me, one of the core aspects of Dick’s characterization throughout his adulthood in canon is SPECIFICALLY his fear that everything he cares about, or trusts, or relies on…can be taken away from him or lost. 

And his determination to make sure that he’ll be able to survive even if that should ever happen again.

[cinnamonest]

I feel like I’ve found my kin, I fell in love with Kakashi when I was like 8 LOL. Can I request some general yandere Zoro headcanons btw? I loved/still love him too 😶

Yes you may ahhh!!!! I love Zoro so much. I love writing for fandoms like this bc shounen anime are... Well, shounen, they're aimed at dudes, so they tend to not have as large of a female audience so there's not a lot of content out there. I love Luffy and there's like zero girl-targeted content for him. I swear I've spent so much time looking for wholesome, decent LuNa (my otp im sorry i just hhhh) doujins that aren't super male-oriented, and there's like... 2. For a 900+ episode anime. 2.

I also love the concept of a yandere in a situation where they CAN'T kidnap you, they're limited by their circumstances, so they have to kind of adjust or go insane. It's an interesting dynamic because it eliminates the norm for yanderes.

I think I mentioned this but I'm not 100% caught up with one piece (I mean, who is?), so I'm just keeping it simplistic and going with kinda basic Zoro and nothing with specific character developments or any spoilers other than his backstory

Yandere Roronoa Zoro (One Piece)

Tws: all the usuals -- yandere, noncon, kidnapping

He meets you while he's lost. I'm sorry I just. Zoro gets lost in the middle of some place they're docked, and you're just such a sweetheart, you see this guy clearly not knowing where he's going, and offer to help him. He's kind of taken aback by your softness and sweetness.

He's not easily made aware of his own feelings. He's a rough and tough sort of guy, and he has dedicated himself to swordsmanship so much that he's neglected to focus on himself and his interpersonal relationships, and he's not really self aware at all of his own feelings, very out of touch with his emotions.

Obviously, even if he tries to shove it down, Kuina weighs heavily on his mind in relation to you. He's another man that has known loss and it's dealt its damage on his psyche. He can't lose another person who's dear to him again.

This results in him becoming insanely protective, one of the most protective yans out there. He's easily one led into paranoia delusions regarding your safety. However, he's an honest and reasonable guy and can be level-headed when confronted. If someone (not yourself, as he thinks you're naive, but maybe another girl like Nami or Robin) tells him he's being overprotective and exaggerating about your safety, he may actually have a moment of self-realization and admit to it. He's capable of being reasonable enough to see it once it's pointed out to him. However... this doesn't stop him. He tries, really, he genuinely tells himself that he needs to stop. But his instincts just kind of take over. It's an impulse, to stop you from doing even the most slightly dangerous things.

Once you join the Straw Hat Crew, he just kinda... clings. It's a silent presence, but he's always there, constantly seems to show up wherever you are. Unfortunately, you can't really... get away from him per se. You're kinda limited to one ship, at least as long as you're out on the sea. Your only option for respite is going to your room or bathing, otherwise, he's gonna follow you, even if he's not saying anything and (very badly) trying to feign indifference, pretending you just happen to be going the same way all the time. He doesn't really know what to say, he's not good with these things, and often he's acting without really thinking too much about it. He won't usually strike up a conversation, he just... is there. Watches. May awkwardly ask a question or make a passing comment.

One scenario I imagine is you jokingly picking up one of his swords and wielding it around giggling and he just flips out, takes it from you and yells at you not to do that, are you an idiot? Do you want to trip and fall and have that impale you? Do you realize how easy it would be for you to slice your arm open by accident? It's startling to both you and anyone watching -- even for someone who gets yell-y as easily as him, it seems like an overreaction. He'll apologize but insist it's a safety thing, really.

And he really tries to hide his more... aggressive nature, because he thinks it will drive you away -- he's a blunt, tough guy with a short-fused temper, and he thinks that's definitely not something women like very much. He tries not to yell at you, not get mad so easy, keep his calm better around you, and might even be nicer to others so that you don't think he's mean. And for the most part, he can manage that. Except when it comes to a very specific, very problematic blonde crew member. His little conflicts with Sanji get worse, to even a point that he's snapping at him so frequently that even Sanji himself is a bit bewildered and caught off guard by it. The others notice they fight a lot more often... and Zoro always seems to instigate it, picking quarrels over the littlest things. In reality, he's afraid of the other's... sleazy nature. He can't have you falling for that bastard. He even starts to get jittery when you're in the presence of Franky, Usopp, hell even Luffy of all people. It's noticeable, and everyone kinda worries for him.

He kicks himself for it as soon as he does it, but he finds himself insulting you nonetheless. It's a terrible habit. He gets so awkward and flustered that it's second nature for him to say something snarky or even rude when you talk to him, and he immediately is just mentally screaming at himself for doing so. This will get a bit better with time, though, if you two talk more often.

Now, even if you can fight, you're never gonna really get the opportunity. In battle, he's clinging to you and protecting you at every moment, even if it costs the others some unnecessary wounds. It's highly uncharacteristic of him, and they notice. He won't leave your side, insisting that you're a weak fighter and that he has to take care of you. You just don't get it, you overestimate yourself, you underestimate your enemies, you're a girl. What, Nami and Robin? Well, they've been at this much longer than you, and they had rough upbringings. You're different. You're soft... fragile. You just can't see it. You're lucky he's here to protect your dumbass.

Due to your setup, well, he can't really kidnap you per se. He undoubtedly would if you two were somewhere else, in another life or another setting, but that's not really an option, and even as a yandere, he would never go so far as to kill or abandon his crew. So, he's stuck with just... slowly, slowly mentally deteriorating.

Now, he's not capable of kidnapping, he's not smart enough to really manipulate you into anything (although he WILL tell you that some of the other guys are out to use you), so, he's left to be the guard dog he inevitably becomes to you. If you avoid him, he'll just follow you. If you don't talk to him, that's ok. If you confront him, he'll just insist he has no idea what you're talking about, and you'll start to feel like maybe you're just paranoid. The others... don't really know what to do, to be honest. I can see Nami/Robin potentially confronting him, but in the end, they can't force him to change his behaviors, and they can't afford to lose him. This results in, gradually, everyone slowly kind of accepting your dynamic onboard. They feel bad for you, really, but... in the end, Zoro's just more valuable to the crew. Sorry. They're not gonna get rid of him, but they don't want to get rid of you either.

If you leave? It may just be one of the very very few things that could ever cause him to leave the Strawhats. It would tear him up, really, it goes against his dreams, his pride, his loyalty, but in the end... his loyalty is first and foremost to you. He'll follow you if you leave. It's a bad move on your part, because this gets rid of the only thing standing between you and kidnapping. Which, at that point, surely will happen. Like his other behaviors, he'll feel bad, he'll try and stop himself, tell himself it's wrong, but you'll end up bound in some dark basement nonetheless. He's one to take a very simple approach. Find you alone, sling you up and over his shoulder and carry you off before anyone can come.

Rejection doesn't faze him. No matter what, he'll remain by your side. Even if you never love him in return. It's just his nature, he's a guardian through and through.

In the end, he'll be right there by your side, scaring off any competitors, clinging to you like glue, ever in your presence like a shadow, forever. Whether you want him to or not. He's just an inescapable force, an unmovable object, and you're wasting your time trying to change your fate.

Now, he's very flustered with anything sexual. Highly embarrassed, lots of shame, and doesn't talk much about it. It just kind of happens. He doesn't talk much during, mostly grunts and the occasional fuck when you clamp down, occasionally asking you if you're ok, if it hurts, if it feels good. It's one of the only very soft sides of him. In the end, he really, truly loves you, and doesn't want to hurt you, he wants you to feel good and just love him. It's a very different side to him, one no one else has ever really seen, it's the most vulnerable he himself has ever been with another person.

He feels shame for it, but initially he'll definitely be one to steal your things, sit outside of your room at night, listening to you through the wall, try and get glimpses of you bathing or dressing. He really, really feels guilty, and he's one that will, once you're comfortably restrained and never going anywhere, just sit down and list out every nasty little thing he's ever done regarding you, just to get it off his chest. He understands if you react badly, and he'll apologize, which is a bit ironic considering how much worse kidnapping you is.

He'll apologize for that, too. He's actually one to do so a lot. He's normally a proud guy, but with this? He knows it's wrong, he knows it's fucked up. He knows he can't stop. And he'll be sorry to the moon and back. Just never sorry enough to stop.

He's actually a pretty vanilla guy. Hand-holding missionary type. And, despite being so embarrassed over it all, oddly romantic about it. It's one of the only things he's ever soft and gentle about, it's almost unbelievable to you that he's capable of being so gentle and slow with anything. But he'll kiss your forehead, really take his time with it all, make you cum on his fingers before ever actually fucking you. Hold your hand, look into your eyes. It would be honestly incredibly sweet if it weren't... you know, taking place in some dark sealed off room after dragging you there against your will.

If he's particularly mad, he can get rougher, but he'll apologize after. It's a lot of harsh grabbing, biting, it leaves bruises that he'll rub over softly, whispering an apology, even if a little part of him likes the way it looks on you.

[ddarker-dreams]

Comfortably Numb. Yan Chrollo x Reader [COMM]

warnings: mentions of anxiety, just general uneasiness. word count: 2.6k.

Home is where the heart is. 

It’s meant to be the sanctuary where you can unwind after a long day of work, dress in your most comfortable pajamas, and feel no qualms for the opinions of others. A safe haven of your own making. Granted, there was a time that you felt this way, no matter how long ago it seems. A coveted period of your life that you wish you could return back to. On a surface level, any onlooker might take a glance at you and think you are as normal as they are. If only that were the truth, you bitterly lament. 

Now, what do you need to check on next? Milk is in good supply, not set to expire anytime soon. Hm… can’t say the same for the fruit. You jostle down some of your favorites onto the ever growing grocery list. What else is there? You’ve got to be missing something. Standing on your tiptoes, you open the overheard cabinet, that is now noticeably more barren than it used to be. The bags of tea that had once populated this area have vanished, all but a lonesome pack of matcha. Huffing, you close the cabinet doors, ready to voice your irritation.

Pivoting on your heel, you look over the kitchen counter and towards the occupied living room. “You drank all my tea?” 

“Not at all of it,” your unwelcome guest corrects, much to your displeasure. “Besides, you never said I couldn’t have any.” 

You raise an eyebrow at this conjecture. Who would’ve thought him a stickler for semantics. “Yeah, well, I never said you could have it either.” 

“That’s a fair enough point. I’ll be sure to reimburse you for it later.” Chrollo ends the conversation before it even begins. His attention returns to his original activity of reading, freely helping himself to yet another one of your belongings. An exhausted sigh leaves your lips at the sight. If you somehow make it out of this situation unscathed, you may take on a more pious lifestyle, having survived way more than you should’ve. It’s a wonder that Chrollo hasn’t seen fit to strike you down where you stand. Where you lack self-restraint in the verbal department, you make up for it in your overall composure. Surely anyone else would’ve been crushed under the immense pressure of having a murderer crashing at their apartment. 

That’s just about the best way to describe it, you think. How desensitized do you have to be to no longer shiver at the thought? In all fairness, Chrollo himself is treating this as the most ordinary arrangement in the world. At his own leisure he’ll start conversations with you, inquire about your day, and even offer insight that you never asked for. It’s gotten to the unfortunate point that you’re even starting to do the same. Treating him more as a peculiar roommate than the threat he truly is, though it could be your way of coping. That’s the explanation you’re going with.

Chrollo puts a bookmark into his read, and places it aside. “Is there anything you’d like for dinner?”

He asks the question as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your normally schooled expression is broken, lips parting and eyebrows furrowing together. Is he being serious right now? There’s no way to tell for certain. Not on a lack of trying from your behalf, his countenance never hints at his innermost thoughts. You get the feeling what little Chrollo does reveal to you is intentional. How creepy. 

“I was just planning on warming up leftovers,” you accentuate this by opening your fridge. On the shelves sits lentil soup, apples, and some protein yogurts. Shit. “Scratch that. I’ll be settling for yogurt instead.” 

“You had that for breakfast, if memory serves.” Chrollo points out, as if you’re incapable of remembering that yourself. It’s odd that he feels the need to pay attention to every detail about you. How often is Chrollo observing you without you taking notice? You push the thought aside with a frown.

“What are you, my hostage-taker and nutritionist? Besides, this is what I like to call a struggle meal. Or, meals, technically. I’ll go shopping tomorrow to make up for it.” You grimace while picking up the gourmet cuisine for tonight. Strawberry cheesecake flavor. It’s better with stuff added to it for texture, but this’ll have to do. It’s doubtful someone who is hiding a stolen merchandise worth hundreds of thousands can empathize with your position. Not that it matters if Chrollo Lucilfer holds you in high regard, with all the blood on his hands. He’s got no room to judge.

“Hm, in the time we’ve spent together, I never considered you as dense,” he gets up from his seat, making his way towards the kitchen. You don’t get a word in edgewise before your dinner is plucked from your hands. Chrollo places it back in the fridge, while you stare at him with a slackened jaw. “I’m offering to buy you food, [First].” 

How considerate of him to spell it out for you. 

“Appreciative as I am for your gesture of goodwill, I’ll pass. I don’t want to be indebted to you.” You make for the fridge once again, scowling as he holds it shut with unnatural force. Damn, he’s strong. Maybe you’re playing with fire by provoking him, considering the power imbalance, but your tongue is faster than your brain. Both a blessing and a curse. Leaning more towards the latter, you muse.

“I insist. It’s only right that I repay you somehow, for allowing me to stay here. You wouldn’t be indebted to me.” Chrollo’s smile never reaches his eyes, you notice. Standing here in close proximity to him, there’s a lot more you can pick up on. Every little detail of his disposition is intentional. From his even keel tone, to his polite speech, and way of acting like you have any say in the matter. You’re all bark and no bite. Both of you are keenly aware of this, and still he talks to you as if he’s none the wiser. It’s demeaning in its own right. 

“I guess it is sacrilegious to turn down free food. Alright, you win.” You throw your hands up in mock defense. This uncomfortable interaction helped you remember the position you’re in, how every breath might be your last. He’s broken into your residence, forced you to hide him from encroaching hunters, and made your past ten days a living hell. It was the threats to your loved ones that ultimately earned your compliance. 

You can’t help the self deprecation that’s followed since that day. The law is what you’re supposed to be protecting, not protecting criminals from. Going to the station everyday with the knowledge that you’re harboring such a dangerous criminal is weighing heavily on your soul. Life sure is full of the worst ironies. Had it not been an A class bounty, you may have stood a chance. 

Chrollo reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out one of his many burner phones. “You’re being more agreeable than I expected, if I’m being honest.”

“What can I say? I become a bit of a yes man when my life is being threatened.” You respond with an empty smile of your own. Instead of earning any ire from him, he lets out an airy chuckle, of dubious sincerity. Whether it’s at you or with you is difficult to decipher. He pulls up a food delivery app, showing you the options. This was all prepared in advance, he must’ve taken the time to download it. So it wasn’t a spur of the moment decision to mess with you? 

“Y-you’re really letting me pick?” There’s no hiding your incredulous tone of voice. This series of events is far too bizarre to fathom, like a nightmare stepping into reality. Just a week ago you were contemplating how to poison Chrollo without him taking notice. Now you’re ordering food together. There has to be an ulterior motive lurking around, your gut won’t tell you otherwise.

He tilts his head at your apprehension, and repeats himself. “That’s what I said, yes.” 

Fuck it. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade, or so the saying goes. You’ve suffered enough at Chrollo’s hands, it wouldn’t hurt to make the most of it. You take the cheap phone from his hands, scrolling through the options, and realizing now just how wonderful the variety of food sounds. Working up an appetite hasn’t come naturally with your uninvited guest skulking about. He has enough prepaid visa cards to cover what you want, so you hold nothing back. 

After returning his phone to him, you can’t help but throw an additional sarcastic comment in. It’s second nature at this point. “Happy now?” 

“Very much so,” Chrollo doesn’t mention your indignation, eyes raking over your expansive order. It’s not until he gets to the end that he quirks an eyebrow. “... A one hundred dollar tip?” 

“Feel free to add some extra zeros to the end of that. It’s not binary code for ‘help me, there’s a criminal in my apartment’, if you’re worried about that.”

He hums in consideration. “I can’t say that came to mind.” 

“Shit, looks like I went ahead and busted my own master plan.” Your response is notably dry. A headache is already in the works, courtesy of speaking to Chrollo for too long. He never fails to keep you on your toes. For all the sardonic remarks you make at his expense, anxiety has never stopped plaguing you. It’s a miracle that your heart is still functioning properly. You don’t even know why you ordered the absurd amount that you did, other than from pure spite, since your stomach is churning too much to want to eat. Maybe that’ll change when the food shows up. If not, your co-workers are going to be in for quite a treat tomorrow. 

You return to your newfound favorite activity of ignoring Chrollo, busying yourself with anything that comes in sight. Watering your plants, putting mugs from the dishwasher away, menial stuff that keeps you busy. A new feat lies in your wake. Whoever designed this apartment didn’t do so with you in mind, your larger plates just barely out of reach. Not willing to concede to using a chair just yet, you keep up the gallant attempt, stretching as far as your body allows. Your fingertips graze just over the prized handle, only for you to fail again.

That’s when you feel an over looming presence behind you, a shadow encompassing your figure. Chrollo gets the plate you were reaching for with ease, his chest brushing over your back in the process. You feel your face flushing, your body going taut, standing still as a wooden plank. He sets it down beside you with a knowing smile. That bastard…! He’s doing this on purpose. Damn him. 

“It looked like you could use some help.” He tells you. It takes every ounce of your self restraint not to lunge at him, instead taking a deep breath and nodding your head. Why is he so intent on getting a reaction from you? It’s exasperating, serving no practical purpose other than his own amusement. Inundated with your thoughts, you don’t realize how sour a look you’re sporting. This is what he wants, you remind yourself. To get you riled up. You refuse to play into his hands, and manage to get a grip. 

Time passes by at a lethargic pace. After around forty minutes, your front door rings, and you pick up the order. Sitting at your counter, you help yourself to the meal, grateful that Chrollo has seen fit to leave you alone. There can never be anything good in this world, as he eventually joins you. You try not facing him as an act of defiance. The plan that seemed ingenious in theory has a rockier execution. Sitting in silence feels worse somehow, like a ticking time bomb. Shifting in your seat, you decide to strike up a half baked conversation.

“So, uh, about the whole being hunted down thing,” your voice wavers and you hate yourself for it, “Do you have an idea of when it’s going to be over? I’m starting to run out of excuses for why my friends can’t come over.” 

This is true. There have been no more lively gatherings at your apartment since Chrollo’s unwelcome appearance, and you’ve been pestered about it. In between the lines is the prospect of your friends finding this reclusive behavior suspicious. In your optimism, you hope he takes it as a hint to get out of here faster.

Chrollo takes on a pensive appearance, his chin resting on his hand. “I’d been meaning to talk to you about that, so I’m glad you brought it up.” 

How nice it is to be on the same page. This could be the light at the end of the tunnel, the last page in this awful chapter of your life. Ten days seems like a reasonable amount of time to lay low. Maybe he’s already packing his bags, planning to leave you far behind, so you can forget any of this ever happened. Maybe you’ll treat yourself to a vacation. From the gut wrenching anxiety Chrollo has inflicted on you, you feel deserving of one. 

“They’ve stopped searching for me a while ago.” 

Wait, what?

You look at him, silverware dropping from your lax hand. He’s never been into joking around. Does that mean he’s being serious with you? That all this time, you’ve been holding out for something that already happened? Fists balling by your side, you don’t bother hiding a sharp glare directed towards him. There’s no playfully wry response, no comeback, only disbelief and abhorrence. The bountiful meal in front of you is forgotten. 

There’s no point in asking, but you still do, voice low. “... How long?” 

“According to my sources, about a week.” comes Chrollo’s response, hammering the final nail in the coffin of your patience. His motivations have never been any less clear. You know you shouldn’t have taken the word of someone like him seriously -- you’re so painfully aware of this that it hurts -- but now leaves a final question. Why? What does he get out of this? You feel sick to your stomach, knowing that it’s going to bad no matter what. Your breathing has picked up, eyes dilating and body threatening to crumble under the tension. Everything feels out of place. 

He responds as if he was reading your thoughts. “You’re an interesting person, [First]. You never cried, pleaded, or anything of the like. Instead you accepted the situation for what it was, all while staying true to your values. I find that admirable. I’d like to learn more from you.”  

“Stop talking to me like I’m a -- a fucking -- science experiment, instead of a human being. How does any of that shit even matter?” You feel the blood draining from your face, every word coming out more forced than the last. Getting riled up here is the last thing you should be doing, but you can’t control yourself. All your negative emotions from your time with him are regurgitating into a final mess.

“I don’t know, truth be told.” Chrollo checks the watch on his wrist, and you gulp at the smile that forms on his lips. It feels like a sentencing, a foreboding omen. There’s bile rising in your throat, and you scramble away from your chair. You need to get out of here. You need to run, to scream for help, to alert your family, this is not going to end well, what is he planning-- 

There’s a hurried knock at your door.

“However, what I do know is that I have no intention of leaving this place without you by my side.” 

[sou-ver-2-0]

Sou Hiyori and Kanna’s Sister Parallels

In my short time in the Your Turn to Die fandom, I haven't seen anyone discuss the similarities between our Sou Hiyori and Kanna's older sister Kugie. This subtle parallel is one of the many fantastic writing details in this game, and it happens to be my favorite one. So I wanted to talk about it! 

I love the irony that the characters in YTTD draw a more obvious parallel between Kugie Kizuchi and the game's protagonist, Sara Chidouin. Both Sara and Kugie are high-school aged girls, and Sara often plays the part of Kanna's big sister, leading Kanna to project her feelings for Kugie onto Sara. Although this is sweet, it's still a superficial parallel. Sara and Kugie play the same role, but how similar are they really? If you choose to chat with Kanna on the first day of Chapter 2's storyline, Kanna will tell you the truth about her adoptive sister. Instead of idealizing her, Kanna paints a more complex picture of a flawed young woman. Unlike Sara, Kugie bullied Kanna when they first met. It took time for the pair of them to feel like real siblings. On a deeper level, Kugie's own mini-character arc is very different from Sara's arc, but it perfectly mirrors Sou's arc!

Both Kugie and Sou have a cruel streak and they each make rash judgments about other people. However, they eventually reveal with their actions that they truly love Kanna deep down. While Sara can make the choice to abandon Kanna, both Kugie and Sou would die for the girl. Because of the striking parallels I see between Kanna's memories of Kugie and Kanna's present relationship with Sou, I want to believe that Kugie was just as willing as Sou was to die in order to save Kanna's life. Kugie's story effectively acts as a microcosm of Sou's story. So let's take a close look at it.

KANNA: ...Sara... / You're just like... my sister.

SARA: Huh...?

KANNA: Your strength... and your kindness... / ... / But my sister... / Wasn't always kind from the moment we met.

SARA: (The moment they met...?)

If you speak to Kanna during negotiation time on Day 1 of Chapter 2, the girl begins her story by telling Sara that she's just like her sister, since Sara shares Kugie's "strength and kindness." However, she admits that her sister "wasn't always kind from the moment we met." This is the first major difference between the two girls, and it's what clued me into the idea that Kugie's story might be a metaphor for Sou's story instead. It's also an early moment in which Kanna reveals that she's not as naive as people think she is. She's aware that Kugie was flawed, just like she's aware of Sou's flaws. She keeps choosing to believe in their capacity for good, even as she understands that they are capable of hurting her. 

  Following this revelation, we come to a notable choice.   

1. CHOICE: You aren't blood-related?

SARA: ...Kanna. Are you and your sister not blood-related...?

KANNA: ...Right...

2. CHOICE: Guess I win

SARA: I was nice from the start, so guess I win.

KANNA: Ah... Even the way you say weird things like that is just like my sister...

SARA: (Strangely, that just got her more emotional...)

Sara can either ask "You aren't blood-related?" or smugly observe "Guess I win." Either way, Kanna will steer the conversation back to her adoption by the Kizuchi family. But the choice to declare "victory" over Kugie here fascinates me, since it's easy to connect this competitive sentiment to Sara's relationship with Sou. While Sara and Sou are obviously in a competition for their lives, what ends up mattering more is their competition for Kanna's affections. In both cases, Sou is painfully aware that he's the underdog with "zero percent chance of success." Sou is sure that Kanna would choose Sara's life over his life, if she were forced to make that awful choice.

For Sou, who believes that Kanna loves him less, his moral dilemma is whether to support Kanna in spite of this. The fact that he supports her unconditionally in the second Main Game speaks to his strength of character. He proves that he truly values Kanna more than his own life. For Sara, who already feels comfortable in the "victory" of Kanna's devotion, the moral question becomes whether the player will make choices that are worthy of the girl. Will you help Sou protect her? Or will you decide that Kanna's life is worth less than Sou's hacking skills? Sara's choice determines whether she truly shares Kugie's "strength and kindness."

I'll come back to Kanna's feelings on this "competition" later. For now it's enough to say that she recognizes that competitive streak in Kugie too, and that memory makes her "emotional." It shows how she loves these three characters even when they say "weird things." Again, Kanna is aware of Sara, Kugie, and Sou's flaws but still feels affection for them. That's just how it is when you love someone.

Kanna continues her story:

KANNA: ...See, Kanna's adopted.

SARA: ...!

KANNA: She came to her current family from an orphanage when she was little...

SARA: So you had different parents, too?

KANNA: Mom and dad were really kind... / Kanna... was determined to always smile, childishly thinking "I can't trouble them." / ...And Kanna's sister didn't seem to like her...

Here, Kanna reveals that she has always had the type of personality where she tries hard to please others. She was worried about being a burden long before the Death Game, but for a more ordinary reason; she's adopted. She's always been self-conscious. Her ongoing heartbreak and anxiety comes from a deep place of worrying that her big sister doesn't love her. This informs her current relationships with both Sara and Sou.

At this point, the narrative shifts to a flashback of Kanna's memories.

MOM: Stop it, Kugie! Why do you do such cruel things?!

KANNA: No, it's fine! Kanna's not angry... She's not, really... / Look, see! Ahaha... Ehehehehe...

KUGIE: ...What're you always laughing for?

KANNA: Huh...?

KUGIE: ...You're creepy. I hate it.

DAD: Hey, stop that! Apologize, Kugie!

Kugie calls Kanna "creepy" and even says that she "hates" that part of her. Sara can't ever say such cruel words to Kanna; the worst you can do as a player is speak sternly to her sometimes. But Sou absolutely can say cruel things. He has called Kanna "stupid kid," "dead weight," and a "hindrance" in front of the entire group. And just like the Kizuchi parents scolded Kugie for her mean words, our group members condemn Sou for his mean words.

Now, we know Sou wasn't actually speaking his heart with those words. He didn't have malicious intent. (In fact, he was trying to save Kanna's life.) Sou said those words because he wears a mask to cover his true self. That's the essence of his character. He tries to sound tough and logical to force people to take him seriously. He assumes that once he lets his guard down and shows weakness, everyone will vote to kill him. He becomes a bully because he's insecure.

What if Kugie was also wearing a mask when she bullied Kanna? Not because of the Death Game like Sou, but for a more ordinary reason. Maybe she was simply trying to sound "cool." Maybe Kugie bullied Kanna because she was also insecure, and it would be easy to take out her insecurity on a little girl like Kanna. Kanna is an awkward child who speaks in the third person and laughs for no reason. It would be easy for an older girl to look at Kanna and think, "At least I'm not as embarrassing as that." Even though we don't know Kugie as well as Sou, I think it's a logical assumption.

KANNA: Even then, I kept on smiling... I didn't... want to make sister out as a villain. / But one day, when it became unbearable... I ran away from home.

This is the saddest part but I love it because it's a direct parallel to what Kanna says about Sou! 

During the Second Main Game, when Kanna confesses that she took the Sacrifice card from Sara, she says, "Kanna...Kanna...!! She didn't want to let Sara die...!! And also...!! She didn't want to make Sou a murderer...!!" 

The things Kanna does for these two!!

In other words, there comes a point for both Kugie and Sou where their actions are so harmful that Kanna feels like she has to throw herself away to thwart their "villainy." She runs away from home. She takes the Sacrifice Card. Because she doesn't want these two people she loves to become villains.  

We continue Kanna's story with another flashback. This time, it's accompanied by visual imagery of a small Kanna sitting by herself and crying while hiding her face under a bucket.

KANNA: ...sniff... sob...

KANNA: (narrating) I couldn't go home. I didn't want to... Thinking that to myself, I sat in the park with a bucket on my head and cried.

This is Kanna at her most vulnerable. She is isolated and alone. She has given up. 

In the present day, Kanna has many hopeless moments like this since she has just lost her sister, the person she loved most. We can judge any of the game's characters by how well they treat her, the most vulnerable among them.

In Kanna's memory, there is a character who comes to speak with her at this time. A little boy who tries to joke with her and cheer her up. Kanna only remembers him as "Brat," but to the player, he looks an awful lot like a small Joe Tazuna! The following confrontation between Kanna, "Brat," and Kugie is my favorite part, because it leads to my favorite parallel.

BRAT: Hey! Whatcha doin'? / What's with the bucket?! Yer funny!

KANNA: ...sniff... sniffle...

BRAT: Huh? You cryin'?!

KANNA: ..........

BRAT: ...Alright. / *He lifts his shirt over his head.* How's that! Ehh?! Look at me! C'mon! Funny, right?

KANNA: ...uuuuu...

VOICE (KUGIE): What're you doing?!

BRAT: ...Huh...?

KUGIE: How dare you put a bucket on her head and tease her!! Beat it, you!!

BRAT: I-I wasn't teasin' her!

KUGIE: Liar!! Kanna's crying, isn't she?! D-Don't... be so cruel to my little sister!!

KANNA (narrating): ...That was the first time she called me "little sister"...

In the scene, "Brat" greets Kanna and tries to cheer her up by being a goofball. However, Kugie sees this and gets the wrong impression. She assumes that the boy is hurting Kanna and she rushes to her little sister's defense. As a result of Kugie's actions, Kanna finally sees Kugie's true loving heart.

This is, beat for beat, exactly what happens when Sou confronts Sara about Kugie's smartphone. Just like Kugie wrongly assumed that Joe was bullying Kanna, Sou wrongly assumes that Sara tampered with Kugie's smartphone to make it seem like Kugie hated Kanna. Even though Sou is wrong--Sara was trying to fix the smartphone, just like Sou was--this is the first moment that the player can see Sou's true heart. We learn that Sou's reasons for targeting Sara aren't due to him being some scheming mastermind; he's simply suspicious by nature and he makes rash judgments. He acts the way he does because he genuinely believes that Sara is dangerous. And for the first time, we see how deeply Sou cares about Kanna. We see him stand up to Sara to defend her. Then we see how he wrote a message full of love and hope on Kugie's phone. 

When Kanna finally receives the phone, she cries "tears of salvation" over Kugie's new message. But Kugie's words are really Sou's words. And by the time we reach Chapter 3, we learn that Kanna knew the truth the whole time.

(KANNA): Kanna was always with her big sister. / Because she loved her a lot… / But Kanna was always just a bother to her… / Even that time when it mattered most, she couldn't do anything. / So she thought she was hated… / But that message... made her remember. / That surely, her big sister was watching over her… / That she had to stay strong on her own… / But, well… / The truth is, she knew… / That it wasn't her sister who wrote that message… / *Kanna remembers Sou's face.* .... / ...There's people who tried to protect Kanna. / There's people who worked to encourage her. / So... she doesn't want anyone else to die. / Because... they're all such kind people...

In the game, Kanna shares these thoughts with the player in the aftermath of Sou's death. This is the scenario in which Sou gets to complete the same arc as Kugie. They both sacrifice themselves to save the little sister they love so much. I'm sure that Kugie would have been grateful for Sou's help in writing that message and saving Kanna's life.

I'll finish sharing the rest of Kanna's story about Kugie: 

KUGIE: ...You still crying?

KANNA: S-Sorry... sister...

KUGIE: ... / ...So you cry too, Kanna.

I think the wording of that last sentence in English is interesting. The obvious interpretation is that Kugie realizes that Kanna has been secretly crying and hiding her true self all this time. But on another level, I wonder if Kugie is admitting that she herself "cries too"? That would confirm Kugie's insecurity. And it would make this a moment in which Kugie sees herself in Kanna, just like it's implied that Sou sees his "weak self" in Kanna. In any case, this "unmasking" of Kanna's true heart is a good parallel for Sou's story as well. Kanna also hides her feelings like he does.

KANNA: ..........

KUGIE: .......... / Kanna... I'm sorry...

KANNA: ...Sister...

KUGIE: Mom and dad are worried, so let's get home quick, okay?

KANNA: O... Okay! Eheheh...

It is possible for Sou to apologize to Kanna in the prologue of Chapter 2, Part 2. His wording is more ominous than Kugie's, though he keeps Kugie's sentiment about returning home: "...Sorry. / Just relax. If you’re obedient, I’ll tell you how to survive."

Continuing with Kanna's story, the narrative shifts back to the present day.

KANNA: ...Ever since then, my sister and I got along really well.

SARA: I see...

KANNA: Without any blood relation... Kanna and her sister got along really... really well... / ..........

I love this line because it can apply to Sou as well, since he isn't blood-related to Kanna either. All of Kanna's protective siblings commit to her well-being by their own choice.

SARA: Kanna...

KANNA: Kanna... will definitely go home...! Because she needs to tell mom and dad...! / Determination... / A kind of determination... much too heavy for a girl her age to bear. / ...I should be going soon. Sou might wake up, after all... / Thank you very much... Sara.

Kanna ends her story with a determined speech to return home and honor Kugie's memory. As we read earlier, Kanna gives a similar determined speech in the aftermath of Sou's sacrifice. Later in Chapter 3, she further expresses a desire to honor Sou’s memory, saying “I want to know more about the man who sacrificed himself for me.” This is Kanna at her strongest! This is a Kanna who wants to live!

I mentioned earlier that I would come back to Kanna's feelings on the "competition" between Sou and Sara for her affections. Because Sara resembles Kugie physically, everyone believes that Kanna would choose Sara over Sou. Kanna even says that Sara is "the person she most wants to live." That is Kanna's emotional appeal to save Sara from being voted as a candidate. In the event that Kanna dies, Keiji rubs Kanna’s words in Sou's face at the beginning of Chapter 3, leaving Sou desolate.

But it's important to note that Kanna's choice was always to save both Sara and Sou. To say that she would abandon Sou discredits what actually happened. After Kanna makes an emotional appeal to save Sara's life, she shrewdly makes a logical appeal to save Sou's life. And when Sou tries to direct the votes to Kanna, thinking she has the Sacrifice card, Kanna easily thwarts his efforts by simply telling the truth. Kanna was the only character who chose to be honest about the Sacrifice Card, because she never intended to let anyone else die for her. 

Kanna's choice was to reject the “competition” outright. She doesn't even take it seriously. Her reasons for taking the Sacrifice card were twofold: to save Sara's life, and to save Sou's soul. It's never a real question for her which person she values more. She would have died for them both.

This matters because Sou doesn't parallel Kugie in such an obvious way like Sara does, but the parallel is still there. It's subtle enough that Sou can't even see it. He never feels confident in Kanna's affection, which is why he ordered her, "Kanna. / Don’t you betray me." He can't see what's right in front of him: that Kanna cares about him as though he were her own brother. 

In contrast, Sara feels self-conscious about the comparisons people draw between Kugie and herself. She always feels awkward about it. She is fully aware that Kugie was her own person, and Sara can only pretend to understand what she was like. I really like the way that the manga treated this issue. Although the manga cuts out many of the excellent character moments from the game, it adds more focus on Kugie.

Sara thinks to herself, "I don't know...how many regrets that person had..." which neatly foreshadows that Kugie would have regretted bullying Kanna. Speaking of regrets also reminds me of Sou, who--in the route where he dies--regrets not trusting everyone sooner.

I wanted to end this piece on a happy note, so I'll just say that I like to imagine that Sou and Kugie would have gotten along! Maybe they would even be able to see through each other's masks and help each other. They could work together to protect Kanna, and the Player could choose whether Sara joins them.

[watching-pictures-move]

Put On Your Raincoats #28 | American Babylon (Watkins, 1985)

Roger Watkins spent most of his career making pornos, something which he apparently hated, and in American Babylon he turns that hatred directly at the audience. The movie is about two bozos. Losers. Schlubs. One of them, played by Bobby Astyr, spends his days doing little but watching pornography, oblivious to his surroundings and annoyed by interruptions. When his wife steps in front of the projector, he grouses at her to get out of the way. "Evaporate, Joan!" The other, played by Michael Gaunt, is weak-willed, easily goaded into doing or saying anything, whatever is the path of least resistance. Neither Astyr nor Gaunt are what you'd call conventionally attractive, and combined, they are some of the least flattering portraits of masculinity to grace the screen. I read somewhere that the popularity of unattractive men in straight porn is to help the target audience relate more easily to the proceedings. Watkins brings into focus the implied contempt in that trope.

As someone who spent a non-zero amount of time over the last year delving into vintage pornography, this movie hit a little close to home. When Astyr starts critiquing the camera angles in the movie he's watching, I felt personally attacked. Astyr's choice of entertainment here is in the form of plotless reels with titles like Teenage Pigmeat in Heat, a film by Bernard America, and Butt Girls in Bondage, directed by Hank Packard (which sounds like a dig at Henri Pachard's pretentious porn name), and starring Lonnie Lee as the Butt Girl. Astyr appears to be getting off on their dehumanizing quality ("Hey Robert, I just realized something. They don't show anybody's faces in this movie." "Of course not, it's so much better that way, it could be anybody.") The reels are shot in cold, sterile black-and-white, their mise-en-scene (power tools, gym equipment) suggesting a parody of masculinity. (I admit I was a little concerned when the male performer was firing a blowtorch in the direction of the female performer while they engaged in sexual congress.) Watkins had been steadily removing any sense of warmth or eroticism from his sex scenes, but also seems aware of the limitations of this approach (especially when you cast a performer like Taija Rae, sporting a lady mullet, hubba hubba). His critique seems targeted at the genre as a whole, which despite the level of artistry it can contain (and I'm very much on the side of pornographic films being artistically worthwhile), is ultimately in the service of prurient interests, but in retrospect, feels prescient of the kind of gonzo pornography that would become the norm in the decades that followed. There's no need for plot, character, warmth, humanity, just body parts mashing against each other. That Astyr is seen usually in a raincoat and motorcycle helmet drives the point home.

Gaunt's character is depicted just as brutally but with a bit more humour. This is a guy whose most strenuous decision in his marriage (and source of tension with his wife) is whether or not he'll drink his milk. (His wife, seen topless and in panties and heels, in a skewering of genre demands, leaves him an angry note: "P.S. Drink your milk".) Astyr's wife, played by Tish Ambrose, in need of the kind of intimacy she doesn't get from her husband, sees Gaunt as an easy mark and sets up a rendezvous at a country western bar. Their exchange and her attempt at seduction are telling.

"You strike me as the kind of guy who's good at taking orders."

"Yeah, I guess so, my wife thinks so anyway."

"You want something to drink?"

"Yeah, I guess so, my wife thinks so anyway."

"I'm not wearing any underwear."

"I beg your pardon."

"The only thing separating skirt and my quivering pussy is a layer of air. What do you think of that?"

"Me? I don't know what to think."

Gaunt reveals a talent for physical comedy with his gawking, indecisive face during their tryst, his slapstick-like scramble out of his clothes, his dash with an empty cup as part of his excuse sneak out for another tryst ("I told my wife I was coming over to borrow a cup of sugar"), and his nervous patting of strap-on before he excuses himself out of a threesome. One encounter occurs when watching a porno with Astyr, who seems entirely oblivious to what's going on right beside him but also happy to have them around. ("My best friend and my best wife, finally taking an interest in my one true passion.") Their attempts at bonding seem self-defeating from both directions, as when Astyr tries to initiate a heart-to-heart, it's not clear how truthful Astyr's tale of young love or his recollection of a threesome that sounds suspiciously like one of his movies and the one Gaunt partook in. ("They were sisters, Thomas, sisters! That's what they told me afterwards. They might have been lying of course, It's human nature to lie.") When the visual style switches over to those of his movies, the indictment is complete, but in the final ten minutes, the movie finds something of an emotional core with a montage (Menopausal Males in Bondage) that recontextualizes the proceedings from Ambrose's perspective, while dissolving the boundaries between Astyr, Gaunt, and their porno movies. A beret and checked coat, first sported by Taija Rae, helps provide a visual throughline.

While I won't deny that the kind of masculinity exemplified by the protagonists, while flawed, feels a lot more benign than the kind of toxic masculinity that's been the focus of modern discourse, the laser focus of Watkins' indictment makes the movie work. Where the movie is less cogent but admirably bold is in situating its protagonists and their pathetic suburban existence as some kind of endpoint for American civilization. The opening credits have illustrations of historical images, evangelical radio is heard on and off throughout the movie, and after the aforementioned montage, the film closes with "American the Beautiful". In a brief but forceful sequence, we hear news of Lee Harvey Oswald's murder by Jack Ruby, Walter Mondale's acceptance speech at the 1984 DNC ("Mr. Reagan calls it "tokenism". We call it America.") and the bombing of North Vietnam, while Gaunt's wife (seen again in the nude, to sate the horndogs) fires a shotgun and the screen cuts to black. Watkins produces a passage from "The Harlot's House" by Oscar Wilde to drive home the sense of finality. ("The dead are dancing with the dead, the dust is whirling with the dust.") The protagonists' suburban homes are presented effectively as purgatorial spaces, captured in cold, isolating cinematography by Larry Revene, who had collaborated previously with Watkins on Corruption and Midnight Heat. Like the latter, I watched this in a not very nice video-sourced transfer, although it didn't seem quite as detrimental here (aside from the terrible audio quality, which made Gaunt's whistling sound like nails on a chalkboard). The look of the movie is effectively sterile, with a heavy reliance of moody bluish lighting that comes through even in a less pristine copy. (I understand that this didn't play theatrically, so I'm willing to limit my complaining.) It's also worth noting that while not detrimentally so to the film's overall argument, I did find Astyr's porno movies stylish in their way, and that I was not immune to the charms of Taija Rae, particularly with the beret and lady mullet I alluded to earlier. Folks, I'm not made of stone.

[bcwallin]

One Nostalgia Later

Zero barely talks about his great lost love. As the “aged proprietor” of an “enchanted old ruin” known as the Grand Budapest Hotel, he tells his life story by skipping around her presence, touching on the existence of his “darling Agatha,” but avoiding falling into the pit of despair. Beautiful things don’t get to be completed in his world, where poems are always cut off, nice sentiments are interrupted, and the dark specter of war and disease cuts short any hope of living long, living with love. The man who “struck one as being, deeply and truly, lonely” knows what it is to lose.

For a brief time, Zero and Agatha shared a love. They were outcasts, ignored, working in service jobs that required self-abnegation—he as a hotel lobby boy; she, the pastry girl at a bakery. We see them in their bedrooms; it’s not much. “We did not have 50 Klubecks between the two of us,” recalls the older Zero. They worked long, demanding hours and had few moments to spare. Zero’s meals were held with the rest of the hotel staff. Agatha suffered the overbearing, watchful eye of her boss at the bakery, Herr Mendl. Being together was difficult, but the few moments they shared were rapturous. Their courtship felt like young love feels: furtive, secretive, and bursting with flushed emotion.

That young love never gets to mature. Agatha dies too early. “An absurd little disease,” the older Zero says parenthetically of the cause of death. So, every moment is preserved in amber, but never lingered on for too long. “She is a nearly absent presence in the story, by Zero’s choice: a narrative door marked ‘Do Not Enter,’” writes Matt Zoller Seitz, in his book about the movie. “He won’t speak of her. It’s too painful, and he’s too private.” But the aged Zero can’t tell his story without including her, try as he might. And we get glimpses.

On one good day, Zero and Agatha go to a carousel. They’re accompanied by Herr Mendl, but they barely notice. Zero gives his love a gift. He’s so anxious for her to like it, he can’t even wait for her to open the wrapping before he bursts out with what it is. He can’t contain his love in the inscription, either: “For my dearest, darling, treasured, cherished Agatha, whom I worship. With respect, adoration, admiration, kisses, gratitude, best wishes, and love.”

Throughout their courtship, the world around Zero and Agatha bursts at the seams with the portents of war, as newspapers tease, armies gather, and the brightly colored, idyllic world of the fictional state of Zubrowka teeters on the brink. The start of the war, after all, sees the appearance of black-clad death squads, and eventually, the draining of color from the film itself. Darkness and death loom quietly, but no matter what’s going on in the world, a first love is a first love. And it’s all encapsulated in a single image.

Agatha’s face takes up the center of the boxy frame—her gaze is transfixing. She stares lovingly, straight through the camera. We’re Zero, locking eyes with her. The colors shift over her face as carousel lights turn behind and around her. She is radiant, then shadowed, then red. She has the slightest hint of a smile, her head tilted, just so. Agatha stares with her deep blue eyes and it’s near-impossible to look away. But who would want to?

In this single moment, the music fades as if it’s playing somewhere else, the lights haze, as the focus can only be directed toward Agatha. Time is frozen, if only for a moment, as we experience the ecstasy of loving and knowing you are loved. Of early love, with its rushed heartbeats, tingling limbs, empty stomachs, stuttering lips, and sweaty brows. We hold onto this eternally familiar moment. As Italo Calvino once wrote, describing a different, frozen moment in time: “The suspicion that has gripped me is precisely this: that I have come to find myself in a space not new to me, that I have returned to a point where we had already passed by.”

* * *

The Grand Budapest Hotel continues a literary tradition that’s stretched from Dante to Moulin Rouge!: women die tragically and their lovers memorialize them in their writings. Agatha is an ideal, an image. Like Madeleine to Scotty in Vertigo (but less creepy), like the woman of an aged Mr. Bernstein’s tale in Citizen Kane (but more meaningful), Agatha exists as a memory or a reference.

With its frames within frames of shifting perspectives and aspect ratios, The Grand Budapest Hotel is distinctly literary. Its opening monologue is lifted nearly verbatim from Beware of Pity by Stefan Zweig, an author whose work is credited with inspiring the film, whose mustache seems to appear on more than one character’s face, and whose disappearing world is fictionalized as the setting. Zweig’s non-fiction is a great example of the longing for a lost place; his fiction for lost people. In his novella Journey into the Past, Zweig chronicles the long-awaited reunion of a man and a woman who had once been deeply in love, years ago. “How much time, how much lost time, and yet in the space of a second a single thought took him back to the very beginning.”

Zweig’s stories are often framed as recollections told over, as stories shared with strangers because of their absolute meaningfulness—much like the memorializing by grieving lovers of literary tradition—because these memories needed to be stories, to be remembered by somebody else. Zweig’s framing characters look to create the literature of their own lived stories. Journey into the Past sees two characters, Ludwig and an unnamed woman,  returning to their own story, with one seeking to consummate his unrequited love of nine years’ distance. They had had an emotional affair, tucked into passionate glances and tacit communication, years earlier, while her husband was alive. They kissed where they could, but they had to hide from the servants who always seemed to be around at the least opportune time. Ludwig’s desires were never fully satisfied and he was called away on business so he could build his fortune. And he and his love made a promise to be together once he’d return.

But the trouble with remembering love is that its amber glow sets up dangerous expectations. After being away far longer than he’d have liked to be, Ludwig is greeted fondly by the woman’s staff. He joins his love to the literary tradition and wonders to himself, as Zweig writes, “Odysseus…the household dogs recognize you, will the mistress of the house know you again too?” He’s been away for nine years. He’s gotten married, but he still returns for a rendezvous with the woman he loved and lost, to fulfill a promise she had made him, but which she realizes she cannot keep. Ludwig recalls a couplet from a French poem by Paul Verlaine: “In the old park, in ice and snow caught fast / Two specters walk, still searching for the past.” The poem, which cuts off there in Zweig’s story, imagines a dialogue between lost lovers:

—Does your heart still surge at my very name?

Do you still see my soul when you dream?—No.

—Ah, the beautiful days of inexpressible bliss

When our lips met!—It may have been so.

—How blue the sky, how hopes ran high!

—Hope has fled, vanquished, to the black sky.

Like Jay Gatsby or Mr. Bernstein or Lemony Snicket, wondering what might have been, Ludwig and Verlaine’s narrator and an old Zero romanticize their visions of love as time goes by.

“Any adequate view of nostalgia will acknowledge that it involves a felt difference between past and present: the very irretrievability of the past is salient in the experience,” wrote philosophy professor Scott Alexander Howard. We may seek to stay in the past through memory, Howard tells us, because the present seems worse, because we didn’t realize how good life was, or because we’re spontaneously overtaken by nostalgia. Nostalgia may mean that we see the past as a time that was better, and while that doesn’t necessarily mean that our vision of the past is false, it does mean that things get amplified to a whole other level:

The nostalgist knows the past in question was unpleasant at the time, but in memory it is altered by certain effects: for example, the memory has acquired a gold patina, or it seems to be an uncanny distillation of a whole time period. Neither effect strikes the self-aware nostalgist as true to the quality of one’s experiences at the time when those memories were encoded. Yet they are part of what is targeted by nostalgia. The emotion seems to be directed precisely at the “fictional” features of the memory image—things which one recognizes to be not inside the scene on the other side of the window, but drawn onto the glass.

That amber glow or gold patina grows as we distance ourselves from a disappeared world. Zero’s story, his world, his love are by definition irretrievable.

The carousel (in reality, a wood frame built around a camera setup) is irretrievable. The lights (in reality, constructed to be evocative more than representative) are irretrievable. The shared moment—stolen between long shifts of service as Herr Mendl looks on—is gone, and its memory is a fictionalized, amberized construction of nostalgia and longing.

As the elder Zero looks back, the once garishly pink and red hotel now looks like a holdover from Soviet-era architecture, its colors a drab collection of beiges and oranges. The grand ballroom holds few diners and the place, in general, is empty. Guests push their own elevator buttons, serve themselves from vending machines, and, at times, even retrieve their own keys.

And Agatha. Zero holds onto her memory, but reveals very little of it. She has 15 lines in the film’s screenplay. The first time we hear of Agatha, the older Zero avoids saying much, and talks of her only when he has to. It’s all gone and irretrievable. Sort of.

* * *

One cold November night at Penn Station, the poet Alandra Markman, then going by the pseudonym Allan Andre, wrote a poem for me and a friend (we missed our train, but the delay was worth it). “One nostalgia later” gave a compelling portrait of family meals, “as winter nights dissolve into warm / recollection and company we’re still keeping.” The way the poem goes, we create our nostalgia as we live through moments, readying our stories to be told and remembered some time later on. “Let every glow, mechanical or felt, be one / with the shadows we’re still casting, / and guide our bodies into greater light.”

The story of Zero and Agatha’s love was created on the carousel. In that moment, we see their love blossoming, deepening, exploding with the soft-focus lights of ecstasy. The elder Zero tells us he’s exercising restraint, avoiding talking about Agatha as much as he can, but if he were truly offering a utilitarian telling, there’d be no need to include this gaze frozen in time. In that moment, we never see Zero head-on, never see the reverse shot of adoration. It’s only Agatha and light. And us.

The elder Zero tells the story to a writer, the writer remembers it long enough to write it as an older man, the older man’s book becomes important enough for him to become a beloved national author, and through the eyes of a devotee, we read this book. When Stefan Zweig incorporates listeners into the story, it’s not just for the purpose of framing. The value of a memory is in how it feels to the rememberer, but the value of a story is in how it feels to the one who hears it. It is the storyteller himself who seeks out the opportunity to tell his story—the older Zero needles the writer into admitting his curiosity and offers, of his own volition, to tell it  in full. The telling is not for the benefit of Zero himself; he is giving something to the author, creating an experience for his audience. With its multiple framings, The Grand Budapest Hotel tells us that we are the viewers, the listeners, the readers. We are part of the experience, and we create our nostalgia as we experience it, so we can tell the story later of a place with bright reds, dark blacks, and swirling lights.

I remember The Grand Budapest Hotel, and I remember those swirling lights and the clutched breath and the deep longing. I think about that one frame of Agatha, frozen in time, holding her lover’s gaze—holding our gaze—as the darkness briefly clouds her face. Every time Zero and the writer and Wes Anderson tell me the story, I see that darkness and I face the irretrievability. I don’t feel nostalgia; I feel regret. For Zubrowka and everything it represents. For the grandness of the Grand Budapest. For Agatha.

* * *

When Calvino wrote about his frozen moment, it was in the story “t zero,” in which the narrator, a hunter, faces a lion L, the arrow A just fired from the hunter’s bow at the time tx. The hunter considers the possibility that A will collide with L at point X and he will be saved, or that A will miss the target L, which would then sink its very sharp claws into his chest in the less preferable of situations. It feels familiar, the narrator tells us, though not because of a comparable lion he’s fought or some feeling of ancestral memory lodged in his DNA. “If I say this moment I am living through is not being lived for the first time by me, it’s because the sensation I have of it is one of a slight doubling of images, as if at the same time I were seeing not one lion or one arrow but two or more lions and two or more arrows superimposed with a barely perceptible overlapping, so the sinuous outlines of the lion’s form and the segment of the arrow seem underlined or rather haloed by finer lines and a more delicate color.” He is experiencing a sense of timelessness, as if he’s lived through this moment in time and space, again and again. “What, after all, is the use of continuing if sooner or later we will only find ourselves in this situation again?”

While the elder Zero withholds a lot, rewatching The Grand Budapest Hotel can feel like a slight glimpse into the heart of an old man, thinking about his lost love and the potential of bright colors and bursting emotion that could have continued for the rest of his life (the internet loves a revisionist theory about a movie—what if the Grand Budapest Hotel of the past only looks that way because of how Zero remembers it?). Calvino’s hunter is doubtful. Zero seems assured. He memorializes his beloved with the hotel that stands for their love. With the story he tells of her. And he lets us see a little.

And we see the near-imperceptible smile, the tilt of a head, the unblinking eyes, the brightness and the dark. We see the warm glow of memory that says how great this was and the hint of sorrow asking how great this could have been.

Originally published on Bright Wall/Dark Room

[artificialqueens]

No Strings Attached, Part 2 (Willaska, Bitney) - Albatross, Veronica

AN: New life, new university, new friends…what more could Alaska ask for? Following the end of her relationship with Jinkx, Alaska has decided to pack up and move to a new college…on the other side of the country. Nothing like a bit of space to get over a break up, right? As she settles in for her new life, Alaska must navigate her new surroundings and of course, her new roommates with some very strong personalities of their own. A collab with the amazing @veronicasanders.

It was just before 9 when Alaska finally managed to roll herself out of bed and stumble towards the kitchen. She might’ve slept longer if it hadn’t been for the most annoying bird chirping outside her window and the tantalizing scent of coffee tempting her into leaving her nice, warm blankets. She didn’t even pause at the bathroom first, just made her way straight into the kitchen in search of something to help her feel a little more awake and friendly.

Courtney was the first to notice her, sending a bright, beaming smile her way as she buttered a small stack of toast. “Good morning!” she greeted, “Are you feeling any better?”

A nod was all Alaska could think to give right now. Her sleep-addled mind was still struggling to make proper words.

“Want some smoothie?” Courtney offered as Alaska pulled out a seat at the kitchen’s island.

Bianca was quick to spin away from her pan of sizzling eggs in order to cut in with, “No one wants your gross smoothie!” Then zeroing in on Alaska, she warned, “Beware, Alaska. I saw her put dates in that thing.”

“Shut up!” Courtney laughed, “Dates make it sweet.”

“You know what else would make it sweet? Sugar.”

“Yes, cupcake?” Courtney simpered, fluttering her lashes.

God, this is disgusting, Alaska thought, rubbing away the sleep from her eyes. I stumbled into a fucking Rom-com.

“Is there coffee?” she inquired tiredly, “I thought I smelled coffee.”

“Yeah, help yourself.” Bianca gestured to a French press, then asked, “Do you want some eggs?”

Shaking her head politely, she replied, “No thanks,” and reached over to help herself to the steamy coffee.

With a nod, Bianca scraped two healthy portions onto the awaiting plates and sat down at the island with the others. She pushed one of the servings in front of Courtney.

“Thank you,” she chirped, passing Bianca some toast and licking the butter knife clean in the process.

“That’s disgusting,” Bianca said with an amused chuckle. 

Courtney giggled along, offering her a little shrug and a flutter of lashes, “I like to lick things.”

“Where’s Willam? Still asleep?” Alaska had definitely pegged her as the type to stay in bed all day. But at the moment, she would have welcomed anyone else in the room to distract from the sickeningly obvious flirting going on.

“No, she’s at the gym. Gotta keep it tight for her clients,” Courtney said, then when both Bianca and Alaska’s heads snapped up, realized that she’d probably made a serious faux pas, eyes widening. Trailing off, she mumbled, “Uh…I mean…”

“…‘Clients?’” Bianca repeated. Even Alaska felt herself snapping into a hyper-aware state as soon as she heard the word.

“Well…” Courtney trailed off with an uneasy smile.

“Courtney. Are we sharing an apartment with a hooker?!” Bianca pointed a fork at her.

“No!” she reassured her roommates, “No, not a hooker. She’s like…”

“Yeah?” Alaska found herself deeply curious, in spite of her usual desire to stay away from gossip.

“I’m not sure I should say. I mean, it’s not like a secret, but I just don’t feel like it’s my place to-“

“Well too late, bitch,” Bianca argued, “You brought it up. Now you have to tell us.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Courtney asserted. “She just like…video chats with guys and they buy her stuff.”

“So she’s a cam girl?” Bianca clarified, her tone sounding far from excited now.

Scratching the back of her head, Courtney replied with an unsure, “Um. Yeah?”

“Oh.”

Bianca shrugged and nonchalantly went back to her breakfast, but Alaska found her stomach twisting a bit. She didn’t really understand the intricacies of what Courtney described, but part of her worried about whether Willam was careful enough, safe enough. She shook her head slightly, taking a long sip of her coffee. Why was she fretting so much? Who was she, Willam’s mother? And then another thought, immediately shoved down before it had a chance to take root: Does she have a website?

Nope. She was not going to think about that. It was none of her business, she told herself. Any curiosity was simply because she never met a cam girl before.

And she left it as that, tuning into whatever Courtney and Bianca decided to discuss now.

When Willam returned from the gym, Courtney ran to the door to confess her slip up. “I’m so sorry, Bill,” she pouted. “I didn’t mean to spill, but it just came out. Are you mad?”

“Nah. I don’t give a fuck.” Willam flopped down on the sofa, skimpy workout clothes sticking to her, hair piled atop her head in a messy bun.

Alaska’s lips curled slightly into a disgusted frown. Who doesn’t shower immediately after working out? And now she was sitting on the sofa, getting her sweat all over the shared furniture? Gross , Alaska thought, pulse quickening as a strange feeling crept into her chest.

Willam turned her head towards Alaska and gave her a sympathetic smile. “How you doin’, tiger? Feeling better today?”

“Mmhmm.” Alaska swallowed, feeling an uncomfortable heat creeping into her face.

“Awesome. Maybe you can come with us to the mall, then,” Willam added with a coy tilt of her head.

“Sure,” Alaska smiled at her, praying that the heat in her cheeks wasn’t visible to the others, hoping to deflect by adding drily, “Maybe you can shower first.”

“Ha! Well, look who’s out of her shell,” Willam laughed, standing up and whipping her top off, tossing Alaska a wink in the process. “I guess I’ll head to the shower, then.”

Alaska averted her eyes as Willam continued to shed her clothes, trying not to think about her perfectly toned body, how you could bounce a fucking quarter off her ass. Also how did she have no tan lines? Alaska cleared her throat and looked at the ceiling.

By the way Courtney didn’t even bat an eye, Alaska would be willing to guess that this was pretty normal behavior. Great. Just fucking great.

******

Willam was surprisingly happy with her roommate situation. Bianca was a bit of a bitch, but at least she was funny, and Alaska seemed pretty chill, a perfect counterbalance to Courtney’s boundless energy. They were both major improvements over last year’s wet blankets. Not to mention neither of them was particularly bad to look at. That was always a plus.

The mall closest to the campus was incredibly different than the ones Willam was used to on the East Coast. A big outdoor courtyard surrounded by flowers and cute, little shops, not to mention impressive department stores on either side. She breathed in, happy to be back in California, to feel the sunshine - warm without any oppressive humidity, imagining what her life might be someday. If she ever graduated from school. But that was a problem for another day, she decided.

It wasn’t long into her trip before Courtney spotted the See’s Candy and let out a giddy squeal, “Bill, come on, let’s get samples!”

Willam rolled her eyes as Courtney dragged towards the shop. She’d just spent 2 hours at the gym that morning! There was no way she was gonna blow that hard work on candy. Courtney, who had the metabolism of a hummingbird, never understood how disciplined she needed to be.

“My ex girlfriend was obsessed with that place. She never shut up about it,” Alaska sighed. Her heart had clenched the moment she recognized the sign and before she knew it, she was wistfully mentioning her ex. She’d been so open about it at her last school but now with all of her roommates’ eyes on her, she realized that perhaps this might not be such welcomed information.

Courtney had stopped dead in her tracks to round on Alaska with wide, curious eyes. Bianca had arched a brow at her, one of surprise, she hoped, and not judgement. But then there Willam. By the time Alaska’s gaze met hers, her cheeks were filling with a deep pink. Willam’s reaction was the most difficult to decipher. Her expression seemed blank at first but her eyes betrayed her. Willam’s focus was now solely zeroed in on Alaska, studying her, watching any reaction she might make. It left Alaska feeling anxious and uncertain.

But as she stood like a deer in headlights, Courtney broke out into a warm, toothy grin as she blurted out (quite loudly), “Don’t worry, Bianca’s gay too! And Willam’s bi!” before biting her lip self-consciously, realizing that everyone was now looking at her with varying levels of amusement and irritation.  

“Foot in Mouth Disease strikes again,” Willam sighed as she shook her head. “Anything else you want to share with the other mallgoers, Court? Maybe inform them of my ass waxing schedule?”

Hand on her hip, Bianca piled on with, “You wanna call my grandma, come out for me? I don’t think she knows yet.”

“I thought…” Courtney looked from Willam to Bianca, stammering out. “I mean, yesterday you said that you-I just thought it would be better if she knew…shit…”

Bianca broke first, taking pity on her with a cackling laugh and slipping an arm around Courtney’s shoulders. “She already knew, dollface,” she assured her, adding in a wink, “She’s seen us at the Gay Agenda meetings.”

“Ha ha,” Courtney retorted, rolling her eyes and folding her arms, but leaning against Bianca in the process.

“Well, I’d invite you, but I’m not sure you’re ready for the initiation ceremony…” Bianca teased. Alaska had just enough time to catch a hint of a smile curling at the edges of Courtney’s lips before she spun around and strolled off towards the candy shop with Bianca following close behind.

“And your grandma totally knows, by the way,” Willam called after her.

Bianca turned back with a smirk, flipping Willam off and holding the door. “You guys coming in?” she asked.

“Um…no thanks,” Alaska answered softly, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. Any appetite she might have had suddenly left her and all she wanted was to sit down, if only for a moment.

Willam hesitated a moment, sparing a glance down to Alaska before replying, “You know, I’ll wait outside with Alaska. I shouldn’t eat sugar anyway.”

“Suit yourself,” Bianca muttered, letting the door swing shut behind her as a pleased grin settled on her lips.

Willam had to scoff. She recognized the signs already, even if Courtney was oblivious. “Poor Bianca. Really barking up the wrong tree there, eh?,” Willam said, turning to Alaska with a wicked grin. When the only reaction was a half-hearted chuckle, she asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just…” Alaska trailed off, sitting down quickly at one of the benches. She turned her face from the crowd up to the sky, expression blank and distant. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m still jet-lagged or something. It just feels weird.”

There was a burning at the corners of her eyes but a few blinks and it was gone. Her heart however felt heavy and dull.

Willam settled down next to her and watched her closely. She didn’t speak for a while, running things over in her mind and seemed to be considering her words carefully. Which, from what Alaska could tell, was slightly out of character.

“Weird how?” Willam finally asked, tilting her head to the side. Her voice was calm and inviting but not pressuring. It was nice actually.

Picking at her nails, Alaska shrugged before replying with an uncertain, “Um…I guess I just need a little time to adjust.” A sigh escaped her as she added in hopefully, “I’m sure it’ll be easier once classes start.”

“Well…” Willam searched for something comforting to say, coming up woefully short. “You know, uh…”

“It’s really fine,” Alaska cut in with an apologetic smile. “Sorry I’m being so pathetic, I didn’t mean to drag you down.”

“You’re not pathetic!” Willam exclaimed. “I mean…maybe a little.”

A surprised laugh escaped from Alaska’s chest, immediately making Willam feel pleased with herself.

“I can see your potential though,” she continued. “So…I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks.” Alaska leaned back, pulling off her sunglasses. “I guess it’s mostly because-” she suddenly stopped abruptly, sitting up straight, as Courtney and Bianca burst from the candy store.

“What do you guys wanna do for lunch?” Courtney chirped, skipping over. “There’s that awesome bakery over by the movie theatre. They have tons of specials.”

“You’re still hungry?” Bianca laughed in amazement, “You just ate 3 pounds of chocolate!”

Waving them aside, Willam said, “You go ahead, we’ll catch up.”

Courtney looked from Willam to Alaska, head tilting, asking in concern, “Are you okay? Are you sick? Do you want to go home?”

“She’s fine,” Willam cut in, feeling oddly protective. “She’s just telling me about a recurring fantasy she’s having…of strangling you in your sleep.”

Bianca barked out a laugh. “Who hasn’t had that one!”

“I know, very relatable,” Willam said, and Courtney blew a raspberry.

“Fuck you all, cunts!” She turned on her heel and began walking in the opposite direction, dragging Bianca behind her.

Once they were far enough out of range, Willam turned back to Alaska, who was shaking her head with a smirk.

“You’re a bully,” Alaska accused, no bite to her tone.

“Am not!”

Alaska raised an eyebrow.

“Courtney’s impossible to bully,” Willam reasoned, “She thinks everything is hilarious…And anyway, I was bullied enough growing up, so now it’s my turn.” Willam finished decisively, sitting back.

Alaska seemed shocked by this news. Incredulous, she asked, “You were bullied? For what? And who would dare?”

“Well…maybe I made jokes about myself before anyone else had the chance.” Willam stated, crossing her arms and legs tightly. She glanced at Alaska from the corner of her eye and admitted quietly, “I was really fat.”

“Is that all?” Alaska raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, being fat sucks. Fat and loud. I doubt you’d understand, Prom Queen.” She was starting to get agitated but something compelled her not to cut the conversation off just yet. And soon enough she was rewarded with a loud, obnoxious laugh from Alaska.

“That is…so very wrong.”

Willam shrugged her shoulders as best she could, muttering, “Come on, you’re sweet and…I mean look at you. You must have been popular.”

Alaska twisted a lock of hair in her fingers, a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she looked to the ground. “Actually, I was the gay weirdo in a class of 45 people.”  

“Yikes. Really?”

“Yeah. So…you know, when I first got to college, it was like, this giant relief. But then…” she trailed off. Willam understood where she was going.

“Listen,” she said abruptly,  “I’m not gonna go all Oprah on you and ask a million questions. That’s Courtney’s thing.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” A smile tugged at the corners of Alaska’s mouth.

“But if you do want to talk, I do have ears.”

“Thanks.” After a pause, Alaska looked up into Willam’s questioning face and asked, “…you mean now?”

Willam gave a casual wave of her hand, one Alaska assumed was giving her the approval to proceed with bitching about her ex. The trouble was, where to even begin?

“Well, I…” Alaska started, then trailed off to bite her lip as she thought things through.

“You don’t have to, bro. It’s okay.”

“No, I know,” Alaska said. “It’s just that it’s all…a little jumbled. I don’t know. Like, I met Jinkx at orientation. Literally the first day.”

“Jinkx? That’s a name?”

“Do you really think that the two of us should be judging someone’s name? Besides, for her it was just a nickname, unlike us.”

“Fair point. Go on…” Willam laughed.

“So we like…we hooked up that first day, and then just…did everything together. And for a while, it was perfect. We cared about each other so much, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I could just relax and be myself. It was this awesome little baby lesbian bubble. I forgot all about high school, the homophobic little shits I grew up with…”

“Sounds nice,” Willam chuckled, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, it was. At first. And then like, things got totally intense. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. It was just like, there were so many feelings, all the time , especially after we moved in together the second year. We were always fighting and crying and like…we just realized, there was just no recovering, as much as we loved each other. We weren’t coming back from it.” 

Alaska paused for a moment, picking at her nails again. Willam was tempted to reach over, if only to stop her from destroying her nail beds, but ultimately restrained herself. Instead, her own fingers tapped against her knee as she waited for Alaska to collect herself and continue.

The air between them was loaded but after a minute of searching for the right words, Alaska resumed her story, “And then after awhile, I realized that I didn’t even have my own life. My own anything. I didn’t have any friends except our friends. So I just…I guess, found it easier to cut my losses and never go back there then to deal with it.”

Willam gave her another half smile, then asked, “Do you regret it? Coming here, I mean.”

“Um…no. Maybe. I don’t know yet,” Alaska admitted. “Ask me in a few months.”

“Will do.”

“Anyway…” Alaska sighed. “Sorry about that. And thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Careful, I might take you up on that,” Alaska warned.

“Good,” Willam said decisively.

Alaska looked down, a smile pressed between her lips. She felt better.

It still hurt but in a new way. It was still raw and emotional but it just didn’t seem as endless as it had before. She couldn’t really explain it, just knew that she liked this change.

“Wanna go find the other whores?” Willam asked softly.

“Sure…in a few minutes,” Alaska replied, staring back up at the sky.

Willam nodded, silently and awkwardly patting Alaska on the shoulder and then leaning her head back to stare up into the same cloudless space.

******

“Fucking Christ, where are they?” Willam wondered, looking around the cafe for what felt like the 18th time.

“I dunno…” Alaska drawled out. Anxiously drumming her fingers against her thigh, she asked “Are you sure this is the place Courtney meant?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She marched back outside, spotting Courtney and Bianca strolling at a leisurely pace through the courtyard. “Hey! What the fuck?”

Courtney waved happily, oblivious to Willam’s annoyance, still chatting away with Bianca, and Willam scoffed. She placed her hands on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Sorry about that, back there…” Alaska said as soon as Courtney was within earshot.

In response, Courtney just gave her a warm smile and replied sincerely, “It’s fine. I hope you’re okay.” She reached out and squeezed Alaska’s hand, and thankfully didn’t ask any more questions. A small pang of guilt made Alaska wish that she hadn’t spent so much energy judging her in the beginning…or any of her roommates for that matter.

“Did you at least have some fun?” Alaska questioned.

“Yeah,” Courtney’s smile brightened as she glanced over at Bianca. “B made an…interesting purchase.”

Bianca gave her a wicked smirk and held a finger to her lips. Although mildly curious, Alaska decided not to pry. After all, Courtney didn’t try to force any explanation out of Alaska, so it was only fair she returned the favor.

“I’m sure I don’t even want to know,” Willam said, shaking her head.

“Come on, let’s go get some food,” Alaska suggested in a joyful giggle.

******

Once they’d put in their orders, Alaska followed Willam outside to choose a table, mildly amused at how picky she actually was. It had to be in the sun, but not too sunny, with a view of the fountain but not the parking lot. Once she was finally satisfied, Willam plopped herself into one of the cushioned wicker chairs decisively.

“Are you sure this table meets all of your requirements, your highness?” Bianca asked, watching with an air of restlessness as Willam made herself comfortable.

“I know what I like,” Willam commented with a shrug, sipping her iced tea calmly.

“Don’t days like this just make you happy to be alive?” asked Courtney, settling down beside Willam with a contented sigh.

“Alright, Miss America,” Bianca said with an eye roll.

Courtney stuck out her tongue, then added, “I did actually win a pageant, once.”

“We know, we know, Miss Tater Tot-” Willam said, before Courtney interrupted her with a shrieking giggle.

“No, Miss Tiny Tot! I was 5. I won a car.”

“What the fuck is a 5 year old supposed to do with a car?” Bianca nearly yelled in disbelief.

“I would love to meet Miss Tater Tot,” Alaska mused. A lazy smile appeared on her lips as she added in, “She sounds delicious.”

“And crispy,” Bianca agreed.

“Eh, I’m off carbs,” said Willam.

Courtney rested her face in her hands, looking around at all of the girls with a hopeful, dreamy smile on her face. She took a deep breath, then before she could speak, Willam cut her off.

“Oh no,” she groaned, looking at Courtney with dread in her eyes.

“What?”

“I know that fucking look. You’re about to get all…Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants on us, aren’t you?” Willam accused.

“No! I was just gonna say-”

“Something lame and cheesy about best friends forever?” she mocked.

Courtney crossed her arms and countered, “-that I’m glad we’re all getting to know each other…and I have a really good feeling about this year.” She looked at Willam pointedly. “Was that acceptable, boss?”

“…barely. You’re on thin ice.” Willam teased, snatching Courtney’s lemonade to take a sip.

Courtney’s face scrunched up into a pout, and Alaska decided to come to her defense. After all, it was a beautiful day and these girls were going to be her roommates for the year, so she ought to at least make an effort. And as funny as the constant shade might be, she appreciated Courtney’s attempt at sincerity. Especially in this group, where she knew that she’d most likely get mocked for it.

“I think it was great, Courtney.” She raised her cup. “Here’s to the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.”

“More like the Golden Girls,” Bianca said drily, and Alaska squealed happily. She absolutely adored that comparison more than words could describe.

“Speak for yourself, you old cunt,” Willam laughed.

“Omigod, I love that show,” Alaska cut in, barely containing her glee.  

“What show?” asked Courtney, confused.

“Golden Girls!”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Courtney shook her head, still puzzled.

Alaska tried to keep her mouth from gaping open as she leaned back in her chair. An excuse to watch her favorite TV show, with someone who’s never witnessed the magic before? This had suddenly turned into the best day in a long time. Already thoughts of how to create the perfect viewing party were running wild through her head.

“Well, I know what we’re doing tonight,” she declared with a happy, decisive smile.

“Is it even streaming anywhere?” Bianca wondered.

“Doesn’t matter. I have all 7 seasons on DVD,” Alaska proclaimed, adding a tongue pop for emphasis.

“We don’t have a DVD player…” Willam pretended to look disappointed. Of all the things she wanted to do tonight, a Golden Girls marathon was certainly not one of them.

“We’re at a mall. It’s happening. Also we need to buy cheesecake.”

Courtney clasped her hands to her chest and asked, “Can we all get in our jammies and make popcorn and have a real slumber party?”

“Yes!” Alaska answered, pointing at her.

The pair shared an enthusiastic grin with one another, already feeling their excitement building up to the point of pure joy. “Dear god,” Bianca muttered, looking horrified as she glanced from one beaming girl to the other.

Willam leaned in towards Bianca and said in a loud stage whisper, “It’s not too late to kill them both, you know.”

Bianca laughed and toasted her, but Alaska merely leaned her head on Courtney’s shoulder and sighed happily. Maybe this would be a good year after all.

*******

The first two weeks of classes sped by without incident. It all felt like a blissful daze for Willam, aside from the unfortunate interruptions of homework, that is. But it was still early in the semester and the expectations weren’t too high yet. She could go out and have fun without worrying about some paper or assignment looming over her head…at least for now. So in the meantime, she was dividing her extra time between her roommates, her social life, and, of course her, her side job.

She had a good balance going, she thought.

Tonight however was reserved just for her roommates, complete with plans to veg out in front of the TV, eat takeout (using up one of the rare cheat meals she allowed herself), and watch some horrible B-list movies or maybe just start a new series on Netflix. Either way, it all sounded wonderfully relaxing. The perfect way to close out the week.

They were in the midst of chatting about classes and eating dinner when Alaska’s phone began to buzz. Her previously giddy expression quickly morphed into one of apprehension. Willam’s attention was immediately on her.

She had an idea, even without looking at the phone, as to who could possibly warrant such a change in Alaska’s mood. While Courtney and Bianca chatted away, oblivious to the world for the time being, Willam gave Alaska a small nudge and asked softly, “Jinkx?”

“Um, yeah,” came the quiet confirmation. Alaska was looking at the screen with an air of distrust, “No idea why she’s calling.”

“Pick it up,” Willam suggested with a shrug. “Find out.”

Alaska gave a murmur of discontent, clearly unsure of herself or what she ought to do.

In the end, she let the buzzing go on for another three rounds before snatching the phone up and answering it with a rushed, “Hey, sorry, was just eating. What’s up?”

Her voice was quiet and withdrawn from the start. As Jinkx spoke, Alaska began chewing the interior of her lip, listening intently to whatever was being said. Already Willam was having second thoughts about encouraging her to accept the call.

“Um, yeah, just…Hold on. I’m gonna go into another room,” Alaska replied into the phone, speeding off to her bedroom without even another glance at her roommates.

Yeah, Willam thought to herself, this was a bad idea.

But there was nothing to do now aside from waiting for Alaska to finish her call. All she hoped was that she wouldn’t be too upset when she came back out. But something about the twisting in the pit of Willam’s stomach told her that’d be a long shot. Just look at how dejected Alaska had been at the mall with just the thought of Jinkx. Never mind actually talking to her.

Willam was prepared to offer some consolation once Alaska reemerged and kept a cautious eye on her closed door. She expected Alaska to come out after a few minutes or for the low chattering to stop but every time there was a lull in the noise filtering from Alaska’s bedroom, within a minute it would just start back up again. It left Willam feeling curious and a bit anxious.

Even after 20 minutes and their dinners finished, Alaska still had not come back out. By now Bianca and Courtney had noticed her absence and asked Willam about it.

“Got a call from her ex. Went in there to talk to her.” Her voice sounded weird to her ears. There was some kind of tone to it that she didn’t recognize…bitterness? Not quite right but close.

Courtney stared at the closed door for a few moments, almost as if she too were trying to will Alaska into reappearing. But as Bianca cleaned up the dishes and set them in the sink, it became apparent that Alaska was not coming out anytime soon.

“Think she’s okay in there?” Courtney asked in concern.

“She’s a big girl, she can handle herself,” Bianca reminded her. A short burst of laughter echoed from the bedroom. Definitely not the sound of someone having a horrible conversation. “Seems like she’d doing just fine.”

With that, Bianca unanimously decided that they were going to continue on with their girls’ night. Alaska could join in whenever she was finished, she figured. Courtney was all too eager to help Bianca pick out what to watch, arguing passionately about the merits of whatever horribly depressing documentary she suggested. Bianca kept up the debate, ultimately winning as she had already claimed the remote, and settling down on the couch with a triumphant grin. Courtney pouted of course, but only 10 minutes in and she was lazily leaning against Bianca and watching whatever program with her in contented silence.

Both let their attention become consumed by the show but try as she might, Willam just couldn’t get into it like they were. She told herself it was just because of the consistent drone of Alaska’s muffled conversation and fits of laughter that kept distracting her. It was hard to pay attention when there was some kind of irritating background noise, right?

Hours went by with Willam feeling even more restless than she could remember. She made frequent trips to the kitchen, using any excuse she could think of to just get out of her seat and move. All this resulted in her drinking a massive amount of water and wine. Eventually, she found herself needing to use the bathroom but as she passed by a certain bedroom door, she discovered she was able to hear Alaska’s conversation almost perfectly.

“Yeah, it’s been…it was weird coming out here. I wanted a change, you know? Just to get away from everything.”

There was a pause as Jinkx replied with something.

“No, I like it out here, I really do…Yeah…It’s nice. You’d like it, too, I think.”

Alaska’s voice was contemplative and sentimental. She meant the words, Willam could tell, but there was more to it that she wasn’t saying. Willam wondered what until Alaska continued on with, “I miss you, too. All of you, but you…I miss being able to see you, you know?”

A long, muffled response from Jinkx. One Willam ached to hear.

“Right. No, I get that, really…Just-through a screen isn’t really the same, is it?”

What? Were they facetiming now?

Ugh, whatever, Willam decided, storming into the bathroom.

She was done eavesdropping. She was going to join Bianca and Courtney for Girls’ Night, even if some others weren’t, and she was going to have a good time…even if it killed her.

******

“Good talk?” Willam asked once Alaska finally re-emerged from the bedroom and settled in on the empty space on the couch.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a pleased, blissful smile, “Really good.”

Willam nodded and left the conversation at that. To anyone else in the room it might have looked like she was intensely focused on the drama playing out on the screen but in truth her mind felt a million miles away. Countless thoughts and questions raced through her mind. Most of them centered around wondering just what the hell came out of Alaska and Jinkx’s conversation.

It sounded almost like Alaska was getting ready to invite her out here but she wouldn’t…right?

It was literally across the country and both of them have schoolwork to consider. There’s just no way Alaska would ask her to come all the way out to California. But…she wasn’t thinking of going back either, was she?

The thought of that had Willam feeling conflicted and peevish. She knew she was working herself into a bad mood over probably nothing but she just couldn’t stop herself from overthinking. She actually kind of liked having Alaska as a roommate- Bianca, too- and didn’t want that to change. It was already so comfortable and easy…why would she want to mess that up? She and Jinkx already broke up once, why go through it a second time?

As Willam’s thoughts began to run wild down that path, she had to remind herself that she hadn’t heard Alaska say that she is or even wants to get back together with Jinkx…so she shouldn’t worry about it, right? It wasn’t even any of her business.

But even that reminder couldn’t shake the burning questions she still had about the call. In the end, Willam spent most of the Girls’ Night in a mulish silence. Courtney and Alaska tried to pull her out of it but Willam was not so easily convinced, so they left her alone…for the most part.

As the quartet cleaned up for the night, Alaska pulled Willam aside to ask, “Hey, you alright? You haven’t really said much tonight.”

“Not that you were here to notice,” Willam muttered.

Alaska cocked her head to the side, as if confused, then suddenly it hit her. “Oh,” she murmured guilty, “Yeah, we were talking for a while, weren’t we?” Willam rolled her eyes. “Sorry, we just…had a lot to catch up on. I promise, next Girls Night, I’m all yours.”

Despite herself, Willam perked up at that thought. “‘Next’?” she repeated, a teasing smirk beginning to appear on her lips.

Nudging Willam’s side with her elbow, Alaska beamed back, “Yes, ‘next’. We are going to keep having these for the rest of the year, right?”

“Yeah,” Willam agreed. Suddenly she felt a good bit lighter. “Until I find some guy to fuck. Then you bitches are on your own.”

Alaska’s laugh was loud and braying, enough that Courtney and Bianca turned around to see what was so funny. Neither Willam or Alaska was willing to enlighten them, something about it made them feel disinclined to share. Though each knew it was a hollow threat, neither commented on the fact and let the conversation drop there. Going to bed that night, Willam had to admit, although there were some things she really needed to work out, and soon, she was still pretty grateful for the roommates she got this year. Her only hope was that things would stay this good, at least until the end of spring semester.

[mllemaenad]

(Chantry Asker) I don't defend the Chantry because I think is "has to be good", but part of what Dragon Age encourages us to do is consider the difficulty faced by well-intentioned factions. The Inquisition, for example, has problems, becoming vulnerable to infiltration, and depending on how you played the game, may have done worse. It's not easy to help people, but the Chantry TRIES. Many Thedosian groups don't even do that. If not the Chantry, then to whom do the downtrodden and hopeless turn?

But Anonymous person: this is exactly what I mean. Whence comes this desire to treat the Chantry like some kind of beleaguered, underfunded kindergarten teacher?

“She’s trying, okay? She’s trying.”

Do you feel the need to defend Mass Effect’s Cerberus, too? Sometimes an evil organisation is just an evil organisation.

Why on earth do you think the Chantry is ‘trying’? Again: absolutely no one is saying that a particular revered mother (or Chantry brother or sister) may not be a good person who attempts to help people. That’s not in question. But ‘the Chantry’ is a continent-wide political organisation with massive resources and influence. It is led by a divine and by grand clerics, and on the other side by lord and lady Seekers and by knight-commanders of the templars. It has shaped the world. That’s the scale we are working on here.

No one group in history has impacted life in Thedas more than the Chantry. The influence of this church of the Maker prevails across most of the continent’s kingdoms, and the bulk of humanity pays at least lip service to its tenets. Belief in the Maker has started wars and forced those outside the Chantry to the fringes of society.

– The World of Thedas Volume I

So that’s a good start.

"The Keepers, Shaperate, Qun, Augers, Seers, and Shamen don't help. Only the Chantry.”

That’s one of the first things you said to me. And it’s so confusing because ... it reads like you really don’t grasp that these people are not in Lothering because, largely, they have been driven to the margins by Orlais and its Chantry. They can’t be there. They would die. 

Just as an example – can you imagine what would happen to an augur who set up in some Chantry-dominated village? Started summoning his gods, offering guidance and assistance, suggesting spirit possession to help training young mages? The poor bastard wouldn’t live out the day. But that wouldn’t be his fault. His people aren’t the ones practising religious persecution.

How – how – does that demonstrate the virtue of the Chantry? You can’t give someone points for being the only game in town when they’ve killed all the other players.

The Chantry began and has continued to be a predominantly human organisation. Other races are seen to be further from the Maker. The elves have their false pantheon of idols. The dwarves worship themselves. The Qunari are the worst of all, actively crushing worship of the Maker and desecrating Chantry values in the name of the Qun.

–  The World of Thedas Volume I

They have built the racism right into their doctrine, so that’s nice. And the religious persecution. And just ... zero self-awareness in that they hate the Qunari for converting by force when they do the same thing.

But let’s think about your "downtrodden and hopeless”, shall we?

Why is it that most of the elves in Thedas live in abject poverty, and regardless of their skills are effectively barred from bettering their lot? Oh, that’s right. Because the Chantry invaded their homeland, stole it from them, and forced them to live in slums and convert to the Chantry faith.

But you already know that something went wrong. A small elven raiding party attacked the nearby human village of Red Crossing, an act of anger that prompted the Chantry to retaliate and, with their superior numbers, conquer the Dales.

We were not enslaved as we had been before, but our worship of the ancient gods was now forbidden. We were allowed to live among the humans only as second-class citizens who worshipped their Maker, forgetting once more the scraps of lore we had maintained through the centuries.

– The City Elves

Why is it that most mages are dependant on Chantry run Circles to house, feed and clothe them? Oh, that’s right. Because the Chantry kidnaps them as children, prevents them from inheriting their family titles and property, and steals their children in turn should they have any.

Chantry law requires those with significant magical ability to join the nearest Circle and live under its supervision. While Thedosians with extremely low levels of magical talent are generally permitted to go about their lives, they are still closely watched. In most nations, practising magic and not joining a Circle is to be branded an apostate and, thus, a danger to society. Those who survive capture are turned over to the Circle to become students or prisoners, depending on the circumstances.

– The World of Thedas Volume I

So that’s ... pretty great. It sounds as though you’re suggesting – best case scenario – that the Chantry should get points for setting up a soup kitchen for the homeless, when they were the ones who burned down those people’s houses. And built an ugly mansion on the land.

But that really is a ... best case scenario. It doesn’t really fit with the reality of how the Chantry operates. I mean: the Chantry takeover in Kirkwall was a fucking disaster. Meredith had death squads. I mean – death squads. That whole situation was a dystopian nightmare.

And then there’s whatever the fuck is going on in Tantervale:

Chantry law is all but absolute in Tantervale, earning the city its dour reputation. The city guard is obsessed with enforcement. A street urchin would get a year in the dungeon for something that would get him a pat on the back in Orlais.

– World of Thedas Volume I

So ... yay for theocracy? And then there’s the clusterfuck in Jader:

The overpopulation and poor living conditions led to an outbreak of disease that nearly crippled the city, followed by famine in the poorer sections when it was quarantined.

Mother Giselle, whose prosperous chantry was in a wealthier quarter, wrote to Val Royeaux asking for assistance from the Chantry. When help was not immediately forthcoming, it is said that she addressed the clerics of her chantry. “As Andraste herself said, ‘My faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,’ then so shall faith sustain the hungry in this time of need,” Giselle told them. “As we have devoted our lives to divine contemplation, such a diet should come to us quite easily.” With that she took the unprecedented step of taking all of her chantry’s food into the poor quarters of Jader, distributing it to peasants who would otherwise have starved to death.

Shocked and shamed by what some in Val Royeaux privately referred to as an ostentatious bullying tactic, Chantry officials coordinated relief efforts. Food arrived quickly, along with instructions on how it was to be distributed: first to the Jader chantry to end the hunger strike, then to the Orlesian peasants, then to the Fereldan refugees, and finally to the elves of the alienages. Mother Giselle famously replied to the orders by saying, “If we believe that some have fallen further from the Maker’s grace than others, then those who have fallen further are in greatest need of our care. We cannot fill their souls until we have filled their bellies.” With the support of Lady Seryl of Jader, who was directing relief efforts of her own, Giselle ignored the directives and fed the poor of the city without regard for race or nationality.

Her actions saved thousands of lives in Jader and made her a beloved figure among the poor in Orlais and Ferelden alike. Those actions also destroyed her chances of any official political advancement in the Chantry, as the grand clerics did not look kindly on being shown up in such a manner.

– World of Thedas Volume II

So, five important points here:

1) Mother Giselle’s actions are ‘unprecedented’. So stepping up like that and forcing the Chantry to give aid in a time of crisis is not actually standard practice.

2) This is a clear example of a person attempting to do good and being stymied by the Chantry hierarchy.

3) The Chantry is, in case anyone forgot, really fucking racist.

4) Ending a famine also ended this woman’s political career, because the Chantry just cannot stop being The Worst.

5) While Giselle is undeniably doing some really awesome stuff here, that bit about not being able to fill people’s souls before filling their bellies indicates that even good people tend to do harm when following Chantry doctrine, because they can’t just ‘do good’. They’re also pushing conversion.

Whenever and wherever the Chantry has real power, they tend to do terrible harm. They do it on such a scale, on such a level of ‘these bloody hands may never be clean again’ awful that ... a few acts of kindness can’t easily redeem them.

To be critical of the Chantry, I don’t need to have another option. I can critique a thing without going further – especially since ‘The Chantry killed everyone else’ is ... pretty much why other people aren’t around to help. But ... it really isn’t as if no one else knows how to do good? 

I mean – look at Alistair. Assuming you made him king, he shows up with ships to bring the Fereldan refugees home, and offers aid to rebel mages. He fights with Meredith about it. That aid continues into Inquisition. While the Chantry is busy tearing Kirkwall apart, Alistair is helping. Anders runs a clinic for the poor and dispossessed in the Kirkwall sewers. He’s so damn popular that a mob turns up to defend him. That’s just one man. Most people like him are locked up, so they can’t help. Imagine a thousand clinics run by spirit healers.

Or ... did ... no one listen to Merrill?

Merrill: What does your Chantry do? I mean, you keep saying how great it is. Anders and Isabela tell me to stay away from it. But what does it do? Among the Dalish, the Keepers teach the children, preserve our history, perform magic. The priestesses here just... sing.

Sebastian: The Chantry does many charitable works. It cares for widows and orphans –

Merrill: Who in the Dalish would just be part of the clan, like everyone else. I just don't get it.

...

Bethany: So, there's no Circle among the Dalish?

Merrill: Any child with the gift of magic is apprenticed to a Keeper... in another clan if there's no need in her own.

Bethany: That sounds nice.

Merrill: Magic is a gift of the Creators. Why wouldn't we use it? It just seems... wasteful for humans to lock their mages away where they can't do any good.

– Merrill Dialogue

The Dalish would regard ‘charity’ as a communal duty, and magic as a tool to help people. She’s not wildly impressed by the Chantry, which is not doing enough good of any kind for her to notice. Merrill lives in one of the poorest parts of the city. So. Maybe her way might be worth a try?

Individuals can do good. Organisations can do good. These things are not in question. But the Chantry is – and I say this again – an imperial religion. Its primary function is to serve the Orlesian empire, which is racist, power hungry and deeply religiously intolerant. Empires are bad news.

I’ve seen the examples you’ve given. They exist. Some of them are real instances of a Chantry official, or a small, local chantry, doing a Good Thing. But I have to ask ...

Can you really look at a set of scales that has ‘genocide’ on one side and ‘helped out a single mum that one time’ on the other and say “Sure, that balances”?

[aire101]

Ferrum Chapter 2

Here’s chapter two, and my apologies for how closely part of it follows Episode 1 of SAO.  After this the story probably won’t follow much of the shown canon at all, though I will probably bring in SAO characters for the boys to interact with eventually.  But in SAO everyone has the same starting point.  But with the world being as complex as it is, I doubt I’ll ever really need to follow episode events or dialogue this closely again.  Though I might get the boys involved in the Level 1 boss battle, we’ll see.

Also, please excuse any incorrect computer/programming/gaming jargon.  I’m doing the best I can. T_T

------------------

Peter was a masochist.  That was really the only explanation for his current situation.  The person had even offered to go their own way before Peter had opened his big mouth and tied them together for the next few hours.

Peter knew it wasn’t really Mr. Stark, he did.  But the avatar looked exactly like the Tony Stark that Peter remembered— before the space starvation and the new stress lines of living in a post-apocalyptic earth.  And he sounded just like him.  He had the same weird humor that fluctuated wildly between arrogance and self-deprecation.  He got Peter’s stupid science jokes and the laugh he gave when Peter growled out “FINISH HIM” during a fight with a boar was painfully familiar.  Several times he had to stop himself from calling out the wrong name, and each time left him feeling like he was repeatedly prodding a gaping chasm of a wound.

“You ok, Ki— uh, sorry… Tor?”

And then there was that.  All in all, it was a perfect recipe for emotional disaster.

“Yeah, sorry… my mind wandered off a bit there.”

“In the middle of a pvp and monster spawn zone might not be the best place for that you know.  How does this game even handle respawns?” asked Ferrum, striking down another boar with a swift horizontal strike.  It taken a bit of trial and error for them to get the hang of activating the sword skills, but once it had clicked they had made quick work of the low level spawns in the area.

“You know, for someone who managed to snag a limited release of this game you know surprisingly little about it,” responded Peter.

“Yes, I known, I’m an enigma.  Humor me and explain please.”

“We’re supposed to respawn in the nearest town I think.  Given the bugs we’ve seen so far though I’m not sure I’d want to test that at the moment.  Might be one way to initiate a logout though?” said Peter.

“I’d rather not risk it, and I’d suggest you do the same until we hear from an actual GM,” said Ferrum, sheathing his sword.  “That being said, we’ve been out here several hours now, wanna head back into town and see if anyone has heard anything?”

“Sure,” said Peter, also putting away his weapon.  They stood in the middle of a clearing with expansive views.  Most of the beasts in this area hadn’t been ones to initiate conflict, and they would have plenty of forewarning if anything headed in their direction.  So for a moment Peter allowed himself to just relax and take a proper look around the area, marveling at the beauty and complexity of the world Argus had built.  Off in the distance he could see hills disappear into the haze of the the horizon and cities raised atop impossible pillars.  In a field not too far from them there were a couple other players likewise looking out, taking in the beauty of the glistening waterfalls and towns painted in oranges and reds as sunset came over Aincrad.  

“I have to give them credit.  When I first heard about their plans for this game I was a bit dubious on whether they would actually be able to deliver on the promise.  Concept art looks great, but actually being able to code a full sensory experience into an application?  And create an entire open world with that data?  I mean, I had thought about the concept before, but the technology needed to do it always made me a bit uneasy…  It would be way to easy for someone to use it in ways it shouldn’t be,” said Ferrum.

“What changed your mind then? I mean, since you’re here now?” asked Peter.

“…I don’t know,” muttered Ferrum, sounding distinctly unsettled with the admission.

Peter opened his mouth with a joke on the tip of his tongue, something to lighten the suddenly uneasy mood—

When the deep toll of a bell rang out from the Town of Beginnings, rolling through the air with the tone of a death knell.

“Huh, wonder if they’re finally about to make an announcement?” said Peter.  “I’m surprised it took so—”

Suddenly a white light enveloped him.  In those seconds he felt nothing, completely stripped of sensory.  Just as he felt himself starting to panic, the light released him and was gone as quickly as it had came.  He found himself and Ferrum once again standing in the center of the plaza of the Town of Beginnings.  All around them seemingly every one of the 10,000 players were similarly being teleported into the square.  

“What the hell?” said Ferrum.

“I don’t know.  Pretty sure they should be able to make announcements across the whole game regardless of player location.  Maybe its an opening event?  Would explain the theatrics of it,” said Peter.

The whole square was a buzz with nervous confusion as people tried to figure out what was going on, then Peter heard someone call out above the crowd, “Up there!”

Peter looked up, and above the square there flashed a single red polygon with the word WARNING.

The sky turned red as more and more polygons spawned proclaiming ‘WARNING’ and ‘SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT.’

Peter wanted to think that maybe they had found the bug.  Maybe they were announcing a fix or instructions for the players…

But even without his spidey sense, something felt wrong.

Then the sky began to bleed.

“What is that?” asked a player to the side in horrified awe as the blood-like liquid began to coalesce into a more solid state.  Within moments it formed into a hooded figure wearing familiar blood red robes with gold trim.

A Game Master— likely an a real one this time.

The crowd of players all began to mutter speculations about the figure or the possibility of an event.

“I have bad feeling about all this.”

Peter jumped.  He had forgotten about Ferrum at his side.  He looked over at the older looking man, taking in the tight lines around his mouth, his eyes darting around the area taking everything in, but not straying too long way from the god-like figure of the GM in front of them.

Peter wished he could reassure the man like he had earlier in the day, but Peter was suddenly very aware that in this world he was no different than anyone else.  Just as vulnerable, just as powerless… What had originally been a main draw for him was now a very real weakness.  

“It would be way to easy for someone to use it in ways it shouldn’t be…”

They were absolutely at the mercy of this monolithic system…

“Attention Players… Welcome to my world.  My name is Kayaba Akihiko.  As of this moment, I am the sole person who can control this world.”

And whoever controlled it.

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Ferrum, a look of horror on his face.

“I’m sure you’ve already noticed that the logout button is missing from the main menu,” Kayaba continued.  “But this is not a defect in the game.”

A shiver traveled up Peter’s spine.  A stone of cold fear formed in his stomach.  Surely not… surely someone along the way would have noticed something so horrendous in the code…

“I repeat— this is not a defect in the game.  It is a feature of Sword Art Online.”

“But how… how can he keep us here?  Surely someone on the outside can still get us out?” asked Peter.

“It’s the hardware, Kid.  He’s fucked with the user client hardware that everyone’s brains are wired into,” growled Ferrum.

“You cannot log out of SAO yourselves.  And no one on the outside can shut down or remove the NerveGear.  Should this be attempted, the transmitter inside the NerveGear will emit a powerful microwave, destroying your brain and thus ending your life,” said Kayaba.

Immediately Peter ran through all the specs on the hardware he was privy to during his time as Tony’s intern, and came to the same conclusion Ferrum already had— this mad man was not lying.  He had disabled the safety mechanism that would keep certain powerful data bursts from frying someone’s brain.

Data bursts such as an autosave or a death respawn.

“Unfortunately, several players’ friends and families have ignored this warning, and have attempted to remove the NerveGear.  As a result, two hundred and thirteen players are gone forever, from both Aincrad and the real world.”

“Two hundred and thirteen…”

Peter turned around to see Ferrum looking on with eyes wide, his right hand grasping his left wrist as his left hand gave small spasms.  

That motion was intimately familiar.  The similarity  was uncanny…

“As you can see, news organizations across the world are reporting all of this, including the deaths.” Multiple program windows opened, most featuring various news channels running live, corroborating what Kayaba was explaining.    “Thus, you can assume that the danger of a NerveGear being removed is now minimal.  I hope you will relax and attempt to clear the game.

But I want you to remember this clearly.  There is no longer any method to revive someone within the game.  If your HP drops to zero, your avatar will be forever lost.  And simultaneously, the NerveGear will destroy your brain.”

So he was right— it was both the autosave and respawn functions that had been weaponized in the headset.  The more he thought about it, the more angry he became.  The man had taken glorious innovations in technology—some of it pioneered by Mr. Stark himself—and twisted it into a personal hell for all these people, some of them undoubtedly children.  As if the world hadn’t been dealing with enough tragedy over the last few years.  He wanted nothing more than to punch Kayaba directly in the face with every pound of his spider strength.

But he couldn’t do that.  In this world, he was just like everyone else.

With great power comes great responsibility… but without that power, was that responsibility still his?

“There is only one means of escape.  To complete the game,” Kayaba said, bringing up a digital layout of the floors of Aincrad.  “You are presently on the lowest floor of Aincrad, Floor 1.  If you make your way through the dungeon and defeat the Floor Boss, you may advance to the next level.  Defeat the final boss on Floor 100, and you will clear the game.”

The crowd, which up till now had been mostly muted in shock, finally began to shout and rumble in confusion and denial.  And from the sound of things, this monologue was just about to wrap up.  When it did, all hell was going to break loose.

He had some choices to make, and fast.

“Finally, I’ve added a present from me to your item storage.  Please see for yourselves.”

Shit.  What now?

Peter swiped down to access his storage, feeling distinctly as if he were walking into a trap.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ferrum doing so as well.

An item labeled ‘Mirror’ had been placed in his inventory.

“I’m guessing this mirror is the ‘gift,’ though now I’m wondering if he programmed the auto-drop or did it himself, and if he’s aware of my… status,” whispered Ferrum.

That’s right.  Ferrum was a GM, however that had happened.

“Do you think you could—”

But he didn’t get to finish his question, as at that moment everyone in the plaza began to shout as they were all consumed once again by white light.

When it receded, everyone had changed.

Some looked younger, most looked older.  Quite a few people around him looked to have changed genders completely.  Peter glanced back down at the mirror in his to see his Thor-like appearance gone completely, and instead his true face reflected back at him.  

So that was the purpose of the all too thorough calibration he and Ned had gone through.

“Kid,” said a shocked voice at his side.  

Peter turned around towards Ferrum, wondering who had been behind the meticulous avatar of Mr. Stark…

Only to see that Ferrum was completely unchanged.  Perhaps being a GM had made him impervious to the magic of the mirror?

“Underoos… what are you doing here, kid?!”

With those heartbroken words, Peter’s carefully constructed walls came crashing down.

. . . . .

Peter couldn’t think.  He certainly couldn’t speak.

He could vaguely tell that Kayaba had continued with his closing speech, but he couldn’t tell you what he had said.

All he could process was Mr. Stark’s face in front of him, and the name that only he had ever uttered to him.

It was impossible.  He had seen the body—the horrific scorching where the universal energies had burned through him, the life support system shutting off, the brightness leaving behind a cold husk in a metal suit—

Peter’s whole body flinched when he felt that familiar hand rest on his shoulder.

“Kid!  Are you with me?  We need to get out of here.”

In the time Peter had spaced out Kayaba had disappeared, and now the whole crowd was devolving into a panic.  People were screaming in terror and rage, several had broken down into sobbing messes on the ground.

He wanted to do something— anything to make this better.  Tell people that it was ok, they would figure this out.

But more than that, he wanted someone else to tell him that as well.

Finally he brought himself to focus on what Mr. Stark was saying.

“What do you mean we have to go— where else is there to go?” asked Peter.  “We can’t leave the game, we’ve tried—”

“Not the game, we need to get out of town.”

“What— why—”

“We can talk more later, follow me,” Mr. Stark said before running down a nearby alley.

After a few minutes they stopped, and Mr. Stark started flicking through his user interface.

“This is a fantasy RPG… you can’t tell me there are no helmets…”

After scrolling for a while, he tapped an item on the list and spawned a basic metal helmet and quickly placed it on is head, before continuing to run out of town.

“Mr. Stark!  Wait!” cried Peter.

“Don’t shout that kid, otherwise the helmet is pointless!” Mr. Stark called back.

“Ferrum… why are we heading out of town?  Its about to be dark and the only safe zone we know is here!” shouted Peter.

“The people back there are panicking, Peter.  It won’t be much longer before they start turning on each other, looking for someone to take it out on.  Between my face and the fact that some saw me in GM robes earlier I don’t want to chance hanging around for someone to put the pieces together.  Not to mention this area’s resources are going to be swamped before we know it.  Resource management is built in to the Cardinal system to maintain balance and encourage player movement and activity.  There won’t be enough to go around.”

“But if we die on the road the resources we need won’t really matter!” yelled Peter, pulling to a stop.  “There’s only so much they can do to us in town, it’s a No PVP area.  Lets just find an inn on the outskirts of town and spend the night.  We need a better plan than just running out of the safe zone at twilight.”

Mr. Stark had pulled to a stop when Peter had, obviously unwilling to leave him behind.  He looked down the alley, obviously wanting to continue on, but after a moment his shoulders dropped in an obvious show of concession.

“Fine, lets go to the outer ring and find a place,” said Mr. Stark.

As he turned and started walking away, Peter allowed himself a moment to take in the familiar gait, the way Mr. Stark always walked with his back straight and his head held high, as if he were always prepared to walk onto a red carpet, even in his most destroyed workshop clothes.

He could recognize every familiar mannerism from their hours pouring over suit tech and web formulas.  In retrospect, perhaps that as much as his face was why he had latched onto the man to begin with.  

But the billion dollar question still remained… how?

Hopefully once they found a room to bunk in, he could work out what the hell was going on… preferably before he had a complete emotional breakdown.

[breezeinmonochromenight]

(Reposting this ask because I can’t even edit the html anymore on that other post and this was too much typing to let go to waste.)

Sure sure, not a problem! I can at least try. (:

Warning: This is super fucking long and spoiler-y for pretty much all of Big Boss’ story arc from 1964-1984 after the cut. But it’s Metal Gear, so... even the summaries are long. Lol.

To start: I’m of the opinion, with the way Kojima does things in his games, that Adamska/Ocelot was already tied by the red thread of fate, in a way, to Big Boss, just by being The Boss (The Joy’s) child.

That said, pretty much all of Ocelot’s actions define his relationship with BB as the trustworthy right hand man. He is the model example of the double reverse quadruple agent, and literally the only person and/or entity he never backstabs (or, really, does most of his backstabbing for) is BB.

It’s easiest to break down Ocelot and BB’s interactions (and, in turn, their relationship) in an actual timeline of Ocelot Betrayals™ events vs. by game.

1964: Ocelot was ordered by the CIA to aid Naked Snake / BB in Operation Snake Eater. He gets soundly defeated by BB and is absolutely awestruck/fascinated by and/or possibly in love with him (later on, anyway). BB even stops EVA from gunning him down, allegedly because he was "still young," but BB had actually had taken a liking to him. Ocelot continues to maintain his cover as a GRU operative and decides to aid Snake covertly, and even fires on Volgin during BB’s fight with him. Additionally, their entire exchange at the end of MGS3 prior to Ocelot jumping out of the plane heavily implies mutual like and understanding of each other and that they’ll meet again.

1970: Okay, so here’s where it gets a little messy. The events of MGS: Portable Ops are not really considered canon, since Kojima didn’t write/direct it, but elements from it are alluded to, so I’ll keep it brief. Ocelot recovers the Philosopher’s legacy but is sick of the American Philosopher’s in-fighting, so he goes back to doing what he does best. He had a “mysterious benefactor” aiding him at the time (Major Zero) (because he is a top tier CIA triple agent at this point) that he was going to bail on, but, after an exchange of information about genomes and creating the perfect soldier, he agrees to join the Patriots - under the condition that BB joins.

Post-Portable Ops but pre-MSF Mother Base destruction by Cipher in 1974: Back to canon. Zero, Ocelot, BB, Sigint (who would go on to become known as DARPA Chief Donald Anderson in MGS1), Para-Medic, and EVA form the Patriots as a successor to the Philosophers to carry out The Boss’ will - create a world without borders that could be considered ‘whole’ again. Zero and BB clash over their interpretations of The Boss’ will and how to carry it out (for the record: they both get it colossally, spectacularly fucking wrong).

BB is iconic at this point, though, so if he leaves, the Patriots fall apart. The Les Enfants Terribles project is greenlit as a type of insurance policy to attempt to keep the Patriot’s icon in place and to make sure the genetic legacy of the so-called "Legendary Soldier" gets safeguarded. It backfires spectacularly. BB is (very rightfully) fucking pissed and severs all ties with Zero, and starts Militaires Sans Frontières (MSF) in 1972 with Kazuhira Miller as his SIC / XO.

Here’s where we start to get to the really important stuff: Ocelot remains with the Patriots as a spy while also maintaining his position in the Spetsnaz GRU, and the Patriots become known as “Cipher”. HOWEVER, because Ocelot only genuinely respects / admires and/or is potentially in love with BB (depending on how you wanna look at the subtext), he secretly deeply resented the policies of the Patriots and the shit Zero pulled on BB. He’s the wrong person to cause these feelings in.

(Also IMO, and for what it’s worth: I feel like Kaz’s position, whether you consider it platonic or romantic, is what Ocelot wanted to be to Big Boss and did his best to be, and it created a point of contention between Kaz and Ocelot.)

1975 (post-MSF destruction by rogue Cipher strike force XOF): Ocelot was contacted by Zero for the last time. Zero wants to create a body double of BB. Ocelot agrees but is skeptical, but regardless, they create Venom Snake using hypnotherapy. Ocelot also reaches out to Kaz at Zero’s request. Kaz isn’t the idiot pretty boy he comes off as, and (rightfully) doesn’t trust Ocelot whatsoever, but they agree to work together out of mutual admiration and/or love for BB to keep him safe.

1975-1984: BB and Venom remain in a coma, Ocelot explores his torture fetish. Gains Shalashaska moniker. Not much to say to their relationship here lol.

1984: Ocelot had fully allies himself with Diamond Dogs and is the stand-in XO after Kaz is compromised (captured). When BB and Venom wake up, Ocelot aides their escape from the hospital in Cyprus as Cipher attacks and the Man on Fire shows up.

At the same time, Ocelot retrieves the REAL Big Boss from the ambulance crash site while Venom is KO’d, supplies BB with clothes, an eyepatch, a motorcycle, a cover identity, and the body double's U.S. passport. They share a cigar and talk about BB creating actual Outer Heaven while Ocelot guides Venom and Diamond Dogs against Cipher. Ocelot even plans to go through (and eventually does use) self-hypnotism to protect the ruse and recover his memory regarding the truth at an appropriate future date.

(Fun Fact: In Mission 2, if you repeatedly tranq Ocelot, he’ll mutter “2 + 2 = 5” in his sleep. This is a reference to doublethink - where a person firmly believes in two contradictory narratives. Ocelot is constantly doing this most of his life, but especially does so in MGSV. He’s literally hinting at the truth, right there. He knows Venom is fake, deep down. But his “2 + 2 = 5” is him believing Venom is real, while also believing Big Boss is real.)

Essentially: It’s not so much as them reconnecting and becoming friends as much as it is Ocelot being absolutely devoted to Big Boss without question, and Big Boss being very aware of that total, unwavering devotion and putting his full faith in Ocelot in return. Their relationship grows from that understanding and works because they never need to reconnect. They are always on the same page.

Even a person like Kaz, who arguably knew BB better and possibly way, WAY more intimately (lmao) was not so hopelessly devoted that he’d willingly be strung along by him. It’s why Kaz is absolutely (and rightfully) fucking seething at the level of betrayal that’s gone down in the final conversation with Ocelot in MGSV and ends up making good on the threat to train one of the Les Enfants Terribles (Solid Snake) to kill the man (Kaz is literally the only person to successfully get so close to killing BB - and knew the man well - this is a very legitimate threat) and Ocelot trains the other (Liquid Snake) out of recognition of that threat and in pure fucking retaliation (who he eventually betrays). All for BB.

[crystalelemental]

Faye is cute but goodness fuck they ruined her character. Her characterization is literally: I love Alm. Her support with Silque is horrid. She has no aspirations except to stalk Alm. Even in her ending where she married SOMEONE ELSE she still spent her time stalking Alm. Like it’s awful so I can’t get behind Faye at all.

Okay, this is gonna be a quick thing that’ll probably lead into a longer thing, but let’s talk about Faye a bit.

First thing’s first: I don’t count the ending cards.  I feel like they’re often stupid or irrelevant.  Oh yeah, Canas died in a snowstorm, Nino and Jaffar ran off forever without their kids, Mathilda stopped being a knight to be a mom to Clive’s crotch spawn, and Sonia was turned into a witch while investigating what happened to her sisters after the war despite witches being the direct product of Duma’s influence and Duma’s dead at this point.  Even as recent as Three Houses they’re all trivial little lies.  Oh sure, Edelgard’s route ended in absolute victory against all their problems and everything was great continent-wide forever.  Yep, no negative repurcussions down the line based on creating an unchecked center of power across the continent that would allow any emperors that came after you with different ideologies to completely unmake all your progress.  No, definitely not.  They’re all dumb, and they don’t count.  If you really want to count them...why?  Like, I can’t stop you, but why?

As for Faye herself...listen, she’s an archetype.  Same as Tharja and Camilla before her, two other characters that aren’t handled particularly well either.  They wanted that yandere type, because Awakening sold really well and to this day they have no idea why, so they carried over the same tropes hoping to strike gold once more.  Faye was one such carry-over.  Is she handled well in Echoes?  No.  God no, not at all.  She’s awful to Silque for no reason, and the whole “ready to kill in your name” thing is awful.  But I kinda feel like...those are to establish those tropes; the undying loyalty to the main protagonist.  Alm isn’t an MU like Robin or Corrin, but he’s still the male character that they expect players will identify with, so of course he needed this obsessive devotion character behind him.

But also, just like Tharja and Camilla, I feel like there’s actually a decent character buried under the obvious outward yandere shell.  Faye’s a character marked by insecurity.  Nowhere is this more obvious than if Alm doesn’t recruit her, and Celica shows up but also refuses.  With Alm’s rejection, there’s an edge of playfulness, like she expects him to change his mind.  “Guess I’ll just be sad forever” isn’t really the kind of serious tone you take when you’re devastated.  But then he does leave, and when Celica arrives, seems a little more downtrodden, and asks if she can join Celica instead.  If Celica also rejects, Faye’s outright defeated.  “Right, it was foolish to ask that...”  She has zero confidence in her own abilities or general worth.  She throws herself into battles to prove herself, but at the same time, her reason for not following Alm against his wishes was she’s scared she’d be killed.  She’s someone who seems to want to prove herself but lacks the belief that she can, and I think this is a consistent part of her character largely because she shows the same things toward Celica in this interaction.

The other interesting part is that it’s not just Alm that Faye cares about.  She’s dismissive of Silque, which is odd, but when she sees Celica again after years, what’s the first thing out of her mouth?  “I’ve missed you so much!”  This is her romantic rival.  Even as kids, Faye had a crush on Alm, and recognized that Alm liked Celica better.  You’d think that an obsessive, awful character would hate Celica or never want to see her again.  Instead, she’s thrilled.  She actually missed her.  Faye’s people-driven.  I think it ties into that desire to prove herself; people are important to her, and she wants to be important to them too.  Except Silque for some reason.  I have a theory on that, though.

Faye’s dismissiveness is at the outset, where Silque’s offer of friendship is largely about wanting to talk about things “not for the ears of men.”  Basically, gossip, which just isn’t Faye’s deal.  Faye’s really direct about it, and comes across as rude, though I think a lot of the annoyance with this support is because it does the trope thing with “No, I just want to be near Alm” kinda nonsense.  By the end, Faye does apologize for being rude, but sticks to the fact that she doesn’t want to gossip about anything, but does want to learn more about Silque herself.  It’s not until she’s been around Silque a while and seen Silque’s persistent attempts to befriend Faye that Faye herself warms up a bit and starts to accept the offer.

Here’s how I think of Faye’s character.  She’s people-centric, but in the sense of wanting to have very close relationships.  She cares about her friends from the village, which absolutely includes Celica, but now all those friends are going off to war with enthusiasm, aiming to become heroes, and Alm’s becoming the leader of the army and drifting further and further from the group.  Faye doesn’t like that.  She likes her friends and everything about her life before they joined the Deliverance.  Hell, her final support with Alm is largely just about going back and living as they did before being her only wish.  Silque’s new.  She doesn’t hate Silque, but she doesn’t want all these new connections drawing everyone apart or ruining her hopes of returning to the old status quo.  She pushes Silque away because, as she’s said, she’s not interested in other people right now.  Alm’s the centerpoint of her fixation, but on a bigger scale she just wants everyone to live their quiet lives.  Once Silque’s been with them a while, though, Faye starts to open up a bit, and accepts that okay, she does like this person, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have one new friend here.  It takes her time to branch out.

Which I think also helps explain the fixation on Alm.  Imagine how this would’ve played out when Celica first shows up.  You have this close group of friends you really care about, and one in particular you’ve got a serious crush on.  Being a very, very simple boy, Alm responds to her in the same way he does in their supports; amicably, and without fully realizing, or at not acknowledging, what Faye’s feelings are.  So you’re pretty sure he likes you back.  Then suddenly, a new girl shows up in the village.  You have no idea what her deal is, but now the boy you liked is only paying attention to her.  While you’re playing with all your old friends, the person you want to be there most is off somewhere else playing with the new girl.  Given Faye’s natural inclination toward the status quo, this is a huge deviation.  It’s not just upsetting because you’re crush shows feelings for someone else, it’s upsetting because now the friend group seems split.  As the new girl sticks around and integrates more into the friend group, you get used to her and consider her your friend too, but your initial response is probably very similar to how she’d react toward Silque; dismissive and unwilling to even try being friends.  There’s even stronger emphasis on Alm, because he’s the one who keeps leaving.  I’m sure at some level, there’s concern that if she doesn’t tether herself to his side, he’s going to leave forever.  Her A-support is even all about that, asking him point blank to go back to Ram and being told he won’t.  And all things considered, she handles it well.  There’s still that self-depreciation, telling herself she should’ve known it wouldn’t happen, but on the whole, all she asks is that he understand she can’t just set aside her feeling for him, “at least until we part.”  There’s no hysterics at being told the feelings aren’t reciprocated or anything, and she’s even able to acknowledge that she’ll move on, it’s just going to be hard while they’re traveling together.  Which, frankly, is super fair.

All this to say...I get why people don’t like Faye.  She doesn’t get a ton of screen time, and almost all of it is spent talking about Alm.  Which is why we need support conversations in the first place!  Yes, Echoes added supports, but almost all of them are...frankly, pretty shallow and don’t offer a ton.  There’s also just so few, and one of hers is with Alm so we kinda know how that one will go.  I think there are pieces of character beneath the Alm fixation that can make Faye interesting.  Can.  I’m also well aware all of this is personal interpretation and extrapolation from scraps.  But because of this interpretation and those scraps...I dunno, I kinda like her?  Not a favorite, but I like her well enough.

[irandrura]

Around 13 hours in, at the Garif Village:

There are still elements of the plot that make much more sense in hindsight. Ashe’s visions of Rasler were unclear on the first playthrough; but now I know that the Occuria are sending them to try to manipulate Ashe into destroying Archades with nethicite, in order to stop Cid and Venat from using their nethicite research to overthrow them, I can see where the visions are leading. In other words, the visious have moved from being vaguely sad and ominous to being interpretable as moves in a game of power politics. The Occuria are the closest FFXII has to visible or active ‘gods’, and even they are concerned with relatively straightforward matters of political power and ambition.

(I do mean to write a post about religion or divinity in this game, since I remember finding that an odd topic, but I think it might have to wait until Bur-Omisace.)

However, what stands out to me most strongly at this point is the game’s emphasis on motivation.

Put simply, none of the heroes seem to be very clear on why they’re doing any of this.

Well, for half of them, at least. Fran, Basch, and Penelo all have motives that boil down to “follow and help the person I am loyal to”. They’re there because of another character. But the people they follow – Balthier, Ashe, and Vaan – all have quite ambiguous motives that they themselves don’t even seem to understand. The game has gone to some effort to establish plausible reasons for each character to be on this quest, but then it keeps coming back and problematising them.

Based on Vaan’s prior words and actions, there are a range of reasons he could be here. He could be just seeking adventure. He could be trying to become a sky pirate: either by obtaining enough wealth from this adventure to buy his own ship, or by tagging along and learning from Balthier. He could be acting as a Dalmascan patriot, either seeking revenge on Archades or liberation from Dalmasca. In that light he could be tagging along with Ashe’s resistance, or following Basch out of a desire to avenge Reks. Any one of those reasons, in a different game, could be enough for his character arc. Here, though, Vaan seems to often change his mind. When Balthier asks him why he’s here in Rabanastre, Vaan is lost for words; and in Jahara, the best Vaan can come up with is “I need answers, and I think I can figure them out if I keep following you.”

In some ways I quite like this, and even find it more psychologically credible than heroes of other games. Vaan’s only seventeen: he’s still figuring out who he is. If I remember myself at that age, I didn’t know who I was going to be or what I wanted. I was exploring a lot of different possibilities, and following the paths that seemed interesting, in the hope that my purpose might become clearer over time. The same is true for Vaan.

Balthier, on the other hand, is more enigmatic. Noticeably I haven’t seen any ‘personal’ scenes with him thus far. He puts up a glib, confident front, and unlike Vaan or Ashe, hasn’t shown much of his deeper self to the player. This makes him more of a cipher. The surface interpretation of Balthier – and the one that Ashe expresses to Vossler in Raithwall’s tomb – is that he’s just after money. However, for a supposedly mercenary character, Balthier doesn’t seem to care that much about it. He was lured into the tomb expedition with the promise of Raithwall’s treasure, but when he discovers that treasure is just a summon, he offers nothing more than a snarky quip. He doesn’t seem at all irritated to be denied the treasure he was promised. As we go on we see Balthier going to pretty extreme lengths to help out, even though the payment seems far too meagre. He demands Ashe’s ring as payment for going to Jahara, but would a single ring be worth very much? He says he’ll return it if he finds “something more valuable”, but he doesn’t appear to have any idea of what that might be. The impression one gets is that he only asks for the ring in order to test Ashe’s commitment to her beliefs – but why would a mercenary care about that? And finally in Jahara, when Basch rightfully calls him on his motives, Balthier changes his story again and claims he’s just in it to see where the story goes.

Of course, with the benefit of hindsight, I can speculate that at least part of his reason for being here is daddy issues. Even so, the idea that helping Ashe’s quest would lead to Cid or any resolution of his family issues is pretty far-fetched: this is a very circuitous route to Draklor. Beyond that, Balthier’s been running from his father, so why he’d want to change directions now is even more unclear. It’s hard to resist the conclusion that, like Vaan, Balthier doesn’t really know why he’s here at all. He’s an older man so it’s less likely to be youthful confusion. Is he driven to stay by some fascination that he himself doesn’t understand?

I am vaguely aware of a reading of FFXII that sees romantic subtext between Balthier and Ashe, which might give him a further reason to stay. All I can say here is that so far I can see no subtext like that. In a different story I can imagine the ring scene coming off like that, but so far Balthier has shown pretty much zero interest in Ashe as a person, and similarly zero sign that he even considers her attractive, so I tend to stick with the mercenary interpretation. I might have more thoughts on shipping later in the game, but right now I see nothing that isn’t just blatant eisegesis.

That leaves Ashe. She is, I would argue, the closest thing FFXII has to a ‘hero’ or ‘protagonist’, and on one level her motive is very obvious. Ashe wants to drive out the Empire and re-establish a free and independent Dalmasca with herself as queen. The thing is, though, that’s very easy to state – and very difficult to work out in practice. So far Ashe is very good at making dramatic resolutions and projecting confidence, but they often don’t seem very well thought out, and she finds herself needing to change her mind. The most dramatic instance would be Ashe’s declaration that the Dawn Shard will be her sword against the Empire – and retreating when Vaan points out that she has no idea how to use it, or even how it works.

It’s also striking, of course, that Ashe made that bold promise to use what is to all intents and purposes a magical nuclear bomb against Archades, and then a few scenes later, in the Garif village, she’s willing to listen to Larsa and go with his proposal to establish a negotiated Archadian withdrawal. And this also soon after she felt so betrayed by Vossler’s attempt to negotiate an Archadian withdrawal and independent Dalmasca! What’s going on in Ashe’s head? Does she hate the Empire or not? Back in Bhujerba she was pleading with Ondore to support an open resistance movement, and now she seems to accept Larsa’s claim that they need to stop Ondore launching a revolt.

It’s hard to resist the conclusion that while Ashe wants to be queen of a free Dalmasca, she has no earthly clue how to achieve that. She’s being buffeted around by the winds of fate, grasping at the first thing in front of her that seems like it might help. I think it shows that Ashe has been raised to be a princess, to project confidence and duty in public, but underneath that she’s still a young woman who’s in way over her head. She knows she’s surrounded by cunning and patient older men who’d love to use her as a figurehead to boot. Ashe is skeptical of those demands from outside, but she still follows a path laid out for her by others – Vossler, Ondore, Larsa, and ultimately the Rasler vision and the Occuria – because she hasn’t yet figured out what her own path should be.

So ultimately, what’s striking me most about FFXII right now is that I’m following a party of characters none of whom seem to clearly understand what they’re questing for or why.

It’s cleverer and more subversive than I remember. The quest motif is everywhere in fantasy, but in the traditional, Tolkien-inspired form, it’s usually very clear what the goal is and how it will be achieved. The Lord of the Rings outlines the quest of the Ring halfway through the first volume and the heroes never substantially deviate from it. The challenge is to accomplish the quest. Most follow-up fantasy has a similar clarity to it, especially in video games. In the original Final Fantasy you want to light the orbs and defeat the fiends. In Dragon Age you want to stop the Blight. In every Star Wars game ever, you want to defeat the Empire and/or dark Sith lord. In The Legend of Zelda you want to defeat Ganon. In Chrono Trigger you want to stop Lavos. In The Elder Scrolls you want to stop Dagoth Ur/Mehrunes Dagon/Alduin. There’s a clear goal (defeat the bad guy) and a clear process for accomplishing it (defeat the lesser monsters, unite the various factions, collect all the magic tokens, etc.).

In FFXII, the challenge is to figure out what the hell your quest should be

It’s kind of weird, isn’t it?

[magdalyna]

More Like a Flashbang Than a River Stone

I have been thinking about Jango Fett. Something I often do these days, sure but like.

Jango Fett, during and around the year before the Naboo Invasion --- waiting for Boba to be grown for the normal amount of time.

Telling himself he doesn’t care about the fate of the rest of his clones so long as he has his special son. Fantasizing about the demise of the Jedi.

Sure, Legends/EU and the Prequels tell us what happens next but what if that didn’t happen?

What if a time traveling Maul, not unlike the one featured in Ripples, one who was a Force Ghost who spent his afterlife watching the histories of those he was obsessed with, frankly. Mainly Kenobi of course, but you can not have a Kenobi without eventually stumbling into a Kenobi surrounded by clones.

And hadn’t that been a fascinating web of events to unravel, how the face of a bounty hunter ended up shaping the galaxy.

Maul prides himself on his study of his Nemesis, his Kenobi, the trials and tribulations of his Jedi upbringing, the madcap adventures of his Padawanship, the strain of his unorthodox Knighthood as he trained the so called Chosen One.

Maul no longer has an appetite for being a mere tool of some other person or thing’s greater destiny and Kenobi sparks so vibrantly in the Force that Maul is galled upon his behalf that Kenobi was relegated to such a position by his own Order.

The Kit of Kenobi has always underwhelmed Maul, even with the sheer strength at his disposal.

Kenobi is a blade that has shattered and been reforged several times over, and Maul is ecstatic, humbled, shamed that his own slaying of Master Jinn was one such sunder point.

Sometimes Maul wonders what they could have been if they had been able to meet as allies in the first meeting, and not their last.

Being drawn into the history of Jango Fett is almost refreshing, after a fashion.

Maul can admit he finds an odd sense of kinship between them: both had been shaped by the ravages of the galaxy’s brutality but still managed to come away with a moral code of their own making. Their own sense of honor.

When he is sent back in time by the Force, which clearly has its own sense of humor, he rejoices.

Returned to a body state that he took for granted at the time.... it is invigorating. How wrong was he to lament his self-perceived limitations of physical prowess! His body was never his enemy. A strange but calming sentiment.

He is able to cloak his matured awareness from his false master and fortuitously is within a window of time between missions and recuperation from said missions that he is able to intercept Fett before a particularly gnarly job in Fett’s original timeline went from inconvenient to worse.

After, he considers the best way to approach a notoriously suspicious Fett.

“Let us dispense with the fiction that we are true strangers to each other. You are contracted with my master through another to be the genetic stock for a cloning project. I was available to assist in this other matter. You are waiting for the final form of payment to be ready, yes?” Maul knows that starting thusly on Slave 1 is risky, but life is not without risks. “You desire the destruction of the Jedi for grievous wrongs.” Jango nods, a tight smile on his bare face.

Maul leans closer, barely.

“What if I said that you could revive your people and cause an equally devastating fate to the Jedi. If not more so than mere death.” Maul let the question hang in the air between them, watching his quarry’s microexpressions.

“Go on” Fett allows, but with the clear mien that he would not suffer fools gladly.

“What if you used your clones to retake Mandalore and repopulate it? Cut down every last New Mandalorian fighter where they stood, sent the captives back to Kalevala where those Kryze snakes belong. You as the Mand'alor recall all the True Mandolorians left. And then,” here Maul waved a hand vaguely “offspring. Clan Fett will have numbers and renown the galaxy over.”

Jango Fett had by now raised a single, eloquent eyebrow.

Maul rubbed his chin in the way that Kenobi would often stroke his own facial hair during the Clone War.

“Tell me, Jango Fett, son of Jaster Meerel, do you know the difference between revenge and vengeance?” Maul asks instead of getting on with the point like Jango Fett wants him to.

He had aeons of time in the afterlife to ponder how this phrasing had been his means of salvation in those final moments held so tenderly by his Nemesis, in his Kenobi’s arms. Had that really been the only time they had embraced, for all that destiny had twined them to one another, like strangling vines?

“The truly sublime thing about this, Jango Fett, is that the avatar of the Justice who has taken up arms to right this wrong has also been harmed by the Jedi.” Maul smiles as he shows his teeth. He’s always aware of not overdoing it on the teeth bit, since humans are the singularly unnerving species in the galaxy where showing ones’ dentin is not an immediate sign of aggression. Such strange apex predators they are.

“There is a Padawan ... pushed and pulled by the whims of the elders, and pushed some more. When finally his own Master betrays him so fully, and then when yours truly,” here Maul flicks his tongue along his front canines just because he is alive and can “defeats the master in single combat, then is when the time to strike has arrived. We shall take the Padawan from the battle field with us in the confusion. He will be utterly lost and in need of guidance. His death faked, he will be free to act accordingly.”

Jango Fett has the lines of deep thought drawn on his face. “Intriguing. It is at that, I’ll give you that.” He relaxes in his seat. “But why go against your master in this way?”

Maul sighs. The truth wills out.

“Because unless he is stopped, his foulness will cover the entire galaxy in misery, death and fascism. My preference is that he be launched into the heart of the nearest viable sun but alone I am not powerful enough. I know this to be true. In my own time I have already lived this horror once before.”

Jango Fett raises both of his eyebrows this time. “That is a good reason.” he allows solemnly.

------

ahhhhhk that took literal hours.

idk, eventually Maul fully explains the time travel thing and then he and Jango plotz together til Naboo. Important: Maul doesn’t kill Qui Gon Jinn just stabs him someplace dicey enough to need a long time in physical therapy, enough that Anikin is folded into the creche with the Initiates.

Jinn still rushed ahead so Obi still goes up against Maul all riled up and steaming and snarling like an angry Krayt dragon.

Hence faking Obi’s death to the Jedi and Darth Sleemo and faking Maul’s death to the Jedi so make sure they don’t let such an obviously powerful Force-sensitive child slip outta reach.

cut to Obi Wan waking up in restraints and force suppressors to some rando in authentic Mandolorian armor and Maul who has his Rebels era level of chill which is precisely zero, all over again.

“Greetings my ~~🧡~Nemesis~🧡~~ I sense that you are awake at last!” Maul says and really, Obi has any number of questions regarding this situation but mainly he wants to know how the weird looking Zabrak is doing that with his voice.

Behind Maul, Jango just facepalms, not caring that Obi Wan has him in his line of sight.

@sl-walker @shadowmaat @nawpitynopenope @sunsetofdoom @taule