#well. except for gaslighting her into saving herself but that's another talk for another day.

[sovamurka]

face you make when your gf tries to make a deal with Satan, which, as you personally know, is the worst idea ever

[unmaskedagain]

Gabriel Agreste Must Die

I have no idea what inspired this but I just thought this would be funny. It Salt towards Gabriel. So enjoy. Warning Gaslighting ahead

Nino never thought that, out of everyone in the entire world, he would be the one to figure out Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth. Granted, it wasn’t like he had done he any searched or used any expert detective or journalism skills. No, instead he had been hanging out at Marinette’s; getting his butt handed to him in Ultimate Mecha Strike III. Alya chilling as she scrolled through her phone. Chloe, who they somehow managed to become friends with, was taking selfies in Marinette’s newest design outfits.

Nino knew it was because the blonde had proven herself to be a good hero and loyal ally. So when Marinette, the new Guardian now that Fu was gone, that more permanent heroes were needed, she brought in Chloe, along with Nino and Alya. It was then that Ladybug and Chat Noir revealed their identities to them and to each other.

It had been one hell of a shock. But they all became really good friends. Though any crushes the original heroes had died. It turned out Marinette thought of Chat Noir as a brother. And Adrien just couldn’t see Marinette in that light. It was for the best. Alya had been pissed about the love square thing.

That had been over a year ago, and the heroes had all become really good friends; banding together against anyone (Lila or Gabriel) who tried to tear them apart.

They had been talking about the recent akuma attacks, when Nino got a text from Adrien apologizing for not being able to hang out.

“Adrien can’t come,” Nino glared at the screen. “His dad’s got him working late.”

“Again?” Alya asked. “He does know what child labor laws are right?”

           Chloe scoffed, “Like he cares.”

“Still, we should do something,” Marinette frowned as she rapidly pressed buttons on her controller. “This isn’t right.”

“Like what?” Nino asked, already gracefully accepting yet another defeat. “He’s Gabriel Agreste. He’s as big of an asshole as Hawkmoth; and I didn’t think that was possible.”

           As soon as he said those words, something just clicked. Everyone in the room suddenly paused as they processed the words in their minds.

           Nino slowly put down her controller, “It’s not possible, is it? That level of asshole-dom can’t possibly be reached by two different people in the same city, at the same time, in the same universe. There’s no way.”

“Even my mom left once Gabriel took power,” Chloe added. “And she’s a total bitch but she knew that Paris couldn’t handle both a Queen Bitch and the King of the Assholes fighting it out.”

           Marinette’s eyes narrowed as she considered everything they knew about hawkmoth and Gabriel Agreste, “When did Adrien say he last saw mom.”

“Three years ago,” Chloe answered. “Sometime near the end of January, I remember. It was before Valentine’s day as I had been planning yet another amazing party.”

“Alya, when was the first akuma attack?” Marinette asked.

“One sec, I’ll look,” The glasses-wearing girl said and as she frantically researched. When Alya was done, she looked up at them with a dark expression on her face. “February 4th, three years ago.”

“Gabriel has a book on Kwami,” Marinette told them. “He uses it for ‘inspiration.’”

           After that, suddenly they were recalling all the little ‘coincidences’ they overlooked involving anything Agreste related and Hawkmoth; it all added up to something no one could deny.

“Gabriel is Hawkmoth,” Alya whispered stunned. “Adrien’s dad is Hawkmoth. We always said Gabriel was a monster but damn, really?”

“What do we do?” Chloe asked. “What can we do? Hawkmoth is too powerful; especially with Mayura on his side.”

           Marinette nodded but there was a thoughtful look on his face, “Hawkmoth is strong but Gabriel is human like the rest of us. He has his flaws, his weaknesses; cracks in his facade.”

“Mom always said Gabriel was nuts,” Chloe said. “On the edge of his sanity. One good push…”

           Marinette shrugged, “If we can’t defeat the villain…”

“…Then we break the man behind the mask,” Alya smirked,

           Nino growled, “Gabriel Agreste Must Die.”

…

…

           The next day after school; the heroes met up again at Marinette and sat Adrien down to talk.

It turned getting Adrien on board with the plan was difficult. He wasn’t hard to convince him that Gabriel was Hawkmoth, though it did take a while for him to stop throwing up. However, there was thing the blond boy wouldn’t budge on…

“You’re not killing my dad!” Adrien told them.

           Nino nodded calmly and folded his hands on his lap, “I get where you’re coming from, dude. I totally do,” He told his best friend. “But hear me out. Your dad? He really sucks.”

           Adrien shot his friends an incredulous look, “And you think that’s a good enough reason to kill him?”

“Well, yeah,” Nino shrugged. “I mean we talked about this before.”

           Alya pushed her ex-boyfriend turned one of her bestie out of the way, “You’re dad is a megalomaniac magical terrorist that’s been destroying Paris, turning people into monsters, and killing innocents. Sure the damaged gets reversed but the victims, who aren’t Akumatized, still have to deal with the freaking trauma.”

“There are support groups for it,” Marinette said. “People remember dying; drowning, burning, crashing; it’s terrible.” She sighed, “However, we can’t just murder someone. It’s wrong.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It would be wrong not kill him,” Chloe told them. “The amount of time and effort it would save us is nearly too much to count. And the amount of relief all of Paris would feel knowing he was gone is out of this world.  We can stop SO many people from getting hurt if I call my mom’s guy Fredro, and Gabriel has a little ‘accident’.”

           Nino shot up, “See! Chloe agrees,” He shot a victorious look at Alya and Marinette.

           Alya snorted, “Chloe thought burning Gabriel at the stake was good idea.”

“What?!!” Adrien looked at his oldest friend, shock on his face. “What?!!”

           Chloe shrugged, “There’s no such thing as a bad idea. And It was a suggestion..”

“A good one,” Nino added. “And why does it sound like your mom has a hitman on speed dial?”

           Chloe scoffed, “Hitman? Don’t be so crass. Fredro is former MI6. My mom used to work with him. He’s so good even Shield only had the slightest idea he exists.” She looked at her childhood friend with a softest expression anyone had ever seen on her face. “No one would ever know. If you want, he doesn’t even have to feel like a thing. Gabriel goes to sleep one night, and doesn’t wake up in the morning. It’ll look like a heart attack. Trust me, my mother only works with the best.”

“I have a lot of questions about your mother,” Alya said. “And what type of work she did with a former MI6 agent. But we’re gonna circle back to that. That fact is, Adrien, it’s up to you.”

“He’s your dad,” Marinette agreed. “Plus; its two to two. Me and Alya who don’t want to go to prison. And the two psychos who are more than willing to.”

           Nino huffed and moved to stand next to Chloe, “Well, I’m feeling a little called out right now.”

“I told you we should’ve just handled this last night,” Chloe crossed her arms. “Just the two us. Ditch the Halos at home,” She motioned to Marinette, who didn’t like the idea of killing, and Alya, who didn’t want to make the choice with Adrien’s approval. “Bury that asshole alive.”

“Nah, they’d have known it was us,” Nino shook his head. “The second Gabriel doesn’t show up for something he’s supposed to, Marinette’s knocking on my door. I’m always a suspect. Gabriel nearly got killed by a falling headlight during a fashion show in New York, and Alya still gave me suspicious looks for days. Jerk’s literally on the other side of the world, and I’m still the primary suspect.”

           Chloe looked contemplative, “…Didn’t you say you had a cousin in New York?”

“You a cop?” Nino asked. “No? Then stop asking so many questions.”

           Adrien sighed, “I’m sorry, guys; we can’t kill my dad.”

           Alya nodded firmly, “Then option two. We’re rip apart his sanity, destroy his reputation; tear apart everything that makes Gabriel Agreste, Gabriel Agreste until there’s nothing left except the miserable, sorry excuse for man and father, that he really is.”

“Oh but I’m inhumane?” Nino glared. “I was just gonna cut the breaks in Gabriel’s ride. Take him and Nathalie out at the same time. But, yeah, sure, breaking him to the point where he’s ripping out his own hair and locked away in a padded room is a noble cause as any.”

“And yet we’re the evil ones? Really?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s gaslight the bitch.”

           Adrien looked up at the ceiling just so freaking done with world. “What we do first?”

“Your dad’s a total control freak,” Alya said. “We got to make him feel like he’s losing control.”

           Marinette looked over Adrien, “You’re gonna need tight leather pants, chapstick… And how do feel about piercings?”

“That they look like they hurt!” Adrien protested.

           Chloe shoved his shoulder, “Beauty’s pain, woman up!”

“Why do I need chapstick?” Adrien whined.

“You can’t make out with Scott with dry lips!”

“Make out?” Adrien’s face turned bright red. “And who’s Scott?”

           Nino shook his head, “You’re asking a lot of questions for someone who was against the Murder plan.”

           It turned out Scott was Marinette’s cousin. His mom Melissa was Tom’s half-sister. He was handsome tall sixteen-year-old with olive brown skin, curly dark brown hair, and a crooked jaw. When Adrien met him he was wearing a leather jacket and big happy smile on his face.  Adrien couldn’t stop looking at him.

           He had come out as bisexual to his friends months ago but had only briefly experimented with Luka in the kissing department. Marinette had stumbled upon and quickly squeaked, turned red, and scampered off. Though Adrien did have to deal with her grumbles about having dips. To which Adrien replied, “You snooze, you lose.”

Scott was with a brown haired, pale skinned, gangly guy, with lots moles and a rather pretty redhead.

“Oh come on!” The pale guy complained when he saw Adrien. He looked at Scott. “What leprechaun did you sacrifice so that you got the fucking luck in the world? First the Disney princess Alison, then badass ‘she could stab me and I’d thank her’ Kira, and now Apollo’s freaking love child. No! It’s not fair.”

“Dude!” Scott complained. “Stiles, you’re dating Derek.”

           Stiles suddenly looked really smug, “Yeah I know,” He smirked. “But this isn’t about us. This is about all the other Scotts and Stiles’ of the world who are still growing out of their loser stage. Give them a chance, bro.”

           The redhead rolled her eyes, “Hi I’m Lydia!” She introduced to the young heroes. “The loud moron is Stiles. The moron who’s been drooling since he saw you is Scott.”

           Scott reared back, and started to quick wipe his mouth, “Man, am I drooling?”

“A little,” Stiles shrugged. “I just thought it was moon thing, you know?”

           Lydia ignored them, “I love your dress. It’s an MDC, yes? Up in coming designer, so chic!”      

           Marinette smiled, “Thanks. It took forever to design this.”

           The redhead paused, “You designed?” She looked stunned for a moment before glaring at Scott. “Is your cousin MDC? Did you not tell me your cousin was MDC?”

           It was a little hilarious how quickly Scott stepped back in fear of girl a foot shorter than him.

“About why we’re here,” Alya decided to intervene before blood was drawn. “Adrien, this is Scott. He’ll be your boyfriend for as long as he’s Paris.” She looked between Scott and Adrien and smirked. “And I have no idea who I should congratulate.”

“Me,” Scott let slip as he stared at Adrien in a daze.

           Pictures of Adrien Agreste making out with Scott were everywhere an hour later. Adrien tweeted his response, “I’m Bisexual. So what? To quote Taylor Swift: You need to Calm down.”

           The tweet was the first thing that made Gabriel realize something was very, very wrong.

           Adrien went home and was met the angry expressions of his father and Nathalie. It was time for step to.

           Before either could yell at him. “I quit,” Adrien said. “No more modeling. No more anything I don’t want to do. This is not up for debate. I’m not asking. You can’t make me. And if you try to take me out of school; my friends will public with all the evidence of all times you broke child labors. And if you think I’m bluffing, a copy of the evidence was sent to Nathalie’s email.” He gave them hard looks. “You will go to prison. Try me. It’s over,” Adrien told them but didn’t add that it was in more ways that one.

           He walked passed them; only sparing a glance to see the stunned looks on their faces.

           Adrien knew his father wouldn’t back down. This was only the beginning.

           Unfortunately for Gabriel, he would be far too busy putting out the fires of his burning empire to have any time to rein back in his son.

           During the middle of the night, while everyone was sleeping, an anonymous user *cough Alya* released videos of Gabriel verbally berating his employees for the smallest things, and firing them. It was not a good look.

           The Gabriel brand took a hit. The first of many.

           Over the next few weeks; Gabriel found himself forgetting things. First he found a box of imported silk that Nathalie swore he called her himself to have her order, and he saw the call logged in his phone but for the life of him he couldn’t remember making the call. Then it was scheduling meetings, ordering lunches or coffee that he couldn’t remember doing. Then he forgot where put things.

           For example, one time Gabriel swore he took out his sketchbook from his briefcase and sat it on his desk and left for a meeting. However, when he returned, it wasn’t there. And He nearly went raving mad trying to find it. Only for Nathalie to take it out of his brief case.

           The suit he had laid out for him the night before would be an entirely different color than the one he remembered putting out but then Nathalie would tell him that he ordered her himself to have it pressed.

           It was little thing and big little just slightly out of place that started to grate on his nerves.

“The stress,” Nathalie told him. “It’s getting to you. Perhaps a vacation is in order”

“I’m fine,” He waved her off. “How is the plan to pull Adrien back in?

           Nathalie frowned, “Nothing. He’s still going strong with his boyfriend, a young Scott McCall. Every time we try anything, a new video of Adrien, uh, at work, is released to the media. CPS and the police knocked on our doors three times already. Next time, I fear, they may take him. Amelie Graham de Vanily has been spotted in town, speaking with several lawyers. My sources say she will attempt for custody if CPS deems you unfit.”

“Nothing of the sort will happen,” Gabriel sneered. “I will not lose my son; not to my sister in law, and not to some American boy. Tell Adrien, we will have dinner together. I will talk some sense into him myself.”

           That was his plan at least.

           However, Gabriel found himself waking up in the morning, in his pajamas, utterly confused. “Nathalie, when did I go sleep?”

           She looked confused, “Around midnight, sir. You had dinner with Adrien, and then had to rush off to take a call from Audrey.”

“I… had dinner with Adrien?” Gabriel asked. “Are you sure? I don’t remember. And I didn’t talk with Audrey, did i?”

           Nathalie suddenly looked very concerned. “Sir, I was there. Adrien and you had a lovely conversation about his school and him going back to modeling. Adrien decline. You tried to protest but Audrey called. You two argued for an hour. I was there the entire time. You really don’t remember?”

           No, Gabriel didn’t.

           A week later, after a series of incidents. One of which apparently he had ordered Nathalie to take him to a salon and walked out with blue hair, but couldn’t remember when he woke up the next day. And swore he hadn’t.

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with doctor,” Nathalie told him. “We’re going to get you looked at, okay.”

           It was the first of many, many doctor visits. Until one day Adrien came home and His aunt was there with Nathalie. They told him that his father went on a little “vacation” for a while.

           It turned out the vacation was a very luxurious mental institution.

[heathersgameoftag]

preview of next fic under the cut

not me forgetting that i put these on my blog now

“I wanted to do a nice happy greeting, but instead I have to warn you that you have a problem up ahead.’

Betty, Martha and JD had all met them by a window that Duke had happily perched herself on. Well, happy was a stretch. Content might be a better word. She hadn’t exactly been joyful at any point throughout the entire morning, it was starting to get excessive, even for her. It made Heather so sure that she was still keeping a lot from her, even though she had confessed she was upset because of her parents, because there had been plenty of times she had been upset with her parents and she had recovered the next day. It was down to the sad fact of ‘growing numb from it’, but still. She wouldn’t even turn away from the scenery outside, though it was grey and dim, to greet any of the newcomers.

Heather followed Betty’s gaze as she nodded up the few steps next to them. She had been speaking to Veronica, but it concerned her too.

“Oooh, look who decided to show her face,” Veronica commented, having also turned to see the figure furiously marching towards them.

“Oh, she looks mad,” JD said, coming to stand next to her. “And she’s looking at you directly. Good look, babe!” He shoved her forward playfully, to which she grunted at him indignantly.

“I love having support from my boyfriend,” she snarked, before turning back to the huffing girl stopping just a few feet away, glowering at her dangerously. Not that it was scary, Courtney wasn’t all that tall.

“What the hell did you do?” she hissed. Heather just smiled innocently at her.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You - or somebody here, knows exactly what I mean.” She shot an accusatory glare to all of them. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. People have been whispering about me all goddamn week, and I want answers.” She reached out and grabbed her collar, sneering, “What did you tell them?”

Heather slapped her hand off in disgust. “You’re delusional,” she said, feeling a twinge of guilt for pretty much gaslighting her, but she reminded herself that it was different from when her parents did it to her. Courtney actually deserved it. “I haven’t spread anything about you.”

“It has to be you!” Courtney barked. “I know you’re upset that I insulted your little loser posse.” She eyed Betty, Martha, JD, Veronica and Duke in disdain. “It’s not my fault you let a bunch of nobodies infiltrate your friendship group, I was just pointing out the obvious!”

“Now, if you keep talking like that, maybe I will spread a rumour about you,” Heather said. “How’s, ‘the amount of times I’ve seen Courtney not wash her hands after using the restroom is gag-inducing, to say the least.’”

The group (except Duke) chuckled quietly while Courtney looked disgusted.

“That’s not even true!”

“Doesn’t have to be true. They’ll believe me.” She examined her nails, looking aloof. That only enraged Courtney more.

“You spread something! Tell me what it is, Chandler!” she demanded furiously. “Nobody will tell me. Whatever it is, you’re going to tell me right n-”

“Oh, fuck off, Courtney,” Duke suddenly spoke up, turning her head away from the window at last to shoot her an irritated glare. “Take your damage elsewhere, would you? Literally none of us care about some random preppy bitch scared of what some randos in the school are saying about her. You’ll be forgotten as soon as we all leave for college, hell, you’d be forgotten now if you didn’t constantly whine like a stuck up, spoiled little brat.”

Courtney, as well as everyone else, was understandably taken aback by the sudden outburst. Perhaps it wouldn’t have seemed so harsh, had Duke not looked so disinterested. She didn’t even hold her gaze, she just turned back around and gestured for her to leave with a flick of her wrist. Courtney let out a frustrated grunt, but exited the scene and made sure to glare at Heather snidely on the way out. Once she was out of sight, she laughed out loud.

“Oh, she is mad,” she chortled. “Coming up with a non-existent rumour was perfect, Heather.” She glanced at Duke, hoping to catch her eye to give her some praise, but she didn’t turn around. She gave a shrug, to Heather’s disappointment.

The group frowned at her, and while Mac decided to sit next to her on the window sill, she heard Martha lean to Veronica and whisper,

“Is she okay?”

“Um… she’s…” Veronica stammered, wondering what to say that wouldn’t get his head bitten off by Duke.

“Her parents are… getting on her nerves,” Heather quickly said, saving Veronica the stress. That shouldn’t reveal more than Duke would have liked; everyone gets irritated by their parents.

“That’s one way to put it,” Duke muttered, mostly to herself. Mac scratched the back of her neck nervously.

“So, should we go grab lunch? Since we’re all here,” she asked, looking around the group. The mood lifted and everyone agreed.

“I’ll catch up,” Heather told them. “I just need to get today’s question for lunchtime poll.” She left with them down the hallway, but stopped when they reached a turn.

“I also need the bathroom, so, I’ll catch up too,” JD added, hurrying off ahead of the group. Heather went in the opposite direction, and just before she reached the door to the student room, an arm slammed in front of her. She stepped backwards, immediately growing irritated upon seeing Courtney again. Didn’t she ever quit?

“I know you did something,’ she growled. ‘I’m not giving up until you tell me what.”

“Fuck off and stop bothering me, you goddamn leech.” She pushed her arm aside and tried walking towards the door again, only for her to step in her way.

“And here I thought you were wise in picking friends and enemies, Heather,” she hummed patronisingly. “As of late, it appears that isn’t true.”

“I know what I’m doing, so quit acting like I’m falling from grace or whatever you want to call it. Those people sit at my table because I let them. They’re Veronica’s friends, so I’d rather they not be harassed by bitches like you. And, you know, I’m dating one of them, of course,” she quickly amended. Courtney’s eyes narrowed.

“So you’re picking loserdome over people actually worthy of recognition now?” She not-so-subtly gestured to herself. “You’re a disappointment.”

“If it pisses you off, that’s fine by me.” She went to step around her, but Courtney wasn’t finished.

“Fine. If that’s how you want to play this, then maybe I’ll just find something to spread about you. You know, to make it even.”

Heather laughed out loud at that. “Good luck getting people believing you. Why do you think no one ever bothers us, hm? I make sure they don’t.” She turned to sneer at her. “Spreading lies about me won’t get you anywhere.”

Courtney took a step back, but brushed her threat off. “You’re not exactly as respected as you once were, Heather. Hence my whole warning about the friends you’re picking.” She cocked her head to the side and smirked. “Besides, I wasn’t going to spread a lie. I’m sure behind that perfect little image you’ve made for yourself, there’s something dreadfully embarrassing that you’d hate for anyone to get their claws on.”

Heather did her best to keep her expression from changing.

“Then I wish you luck finding whatever secrets you expect to find somehow. You’ll need it.” She straightened herself up, brushing non-existent dust off of her collar as if the mere presence of Courtney was making her filthy. “Meanwhile, I’ll find a lot of entertainment in your weird obsession with me.”

“It’s not an obsession-”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun stalking me to figure out what’s happening in my personal life!” she sang over her shoulder as she walked away. “Totally not weird of you at all!”

She was soon out of her view, having stepped into the student room to grab her clipboard from Peter. She read over the question several times on her way back to the cafeteria, but it was hard to focus. As amusing as her argument with Courtney had been, the thought of her actually figuring something out did alarm her, whether she wanted to admit it or not. It’s not that she felt insecure about her choice in friends - even times when she thought she regretted expanding her bubble the way she did, she immediately shook the thought away when remembering what had happened last time she had disregarded Veronica’s friends as little more than the scum of the school that she could take advantage of whenever she wanted.

She wasn’t going to go back to that state of mind all because Courtney didn’t approve of her decisions. As daunting as the status quo change had been, she knew it was for the best to rid of that toxic mindset. But since she was making that choice, it seemed now she was an easy target for sabotage. And there was a lot of material one could use, if they found out somehow. Small things, like how her relationship with JD wasn’t real, or that she hasn’t seen a Remington party invite in ages, and didn’t want to see one ever again. Or there were the bigger things, like her actual choice in partners, or her reasonings for being so much more wary at parties. If any of those things got out, she knew it would be the end. Sure, Duke had managed to stay in power, but she wasn’t sure if she could be quite as strong as her if it came out that she was pansexual. Last time people had assumed she was attracted to women, hell had broken loose, and… she never wanted to go through that again.

The exception being her family, of course. That hadn’t bothered her at all. Coming out was little more than a tool to cut them out of her life for good.

She unfortunately found herself wondering if it would be better to separate the lunch tables again; perhaps she’d be safer that way. Not even just her - all four of them would be safe. Then that thought was dismissed upon seeing Veronica so happy to have Betty and Martha with him, laughing as he attempted to toss popcorn into Betty’s mouth from one corner of the table to another. No, she absolutely could not return to the old status quo, even if it benefited her a lot more. She had to stop being so selfish.

Then she found herself wondering, what of her reputation? She wasn’t about to deny that it was definitely crumbling. People still looked up to her, sure, but how long would that last? Would her newfound generosity slowly erode it away until she was just a face in the crowd?

But that thought got chased away while she was travelling around table to table, when she saw JD in the line for lunch, later than the rest of the group due to his trip to the bathroom, probably. A couple of guys were pushing and shoving him, all to cut in front of him in the queue. Well that just wouldn’t do. She marched over and grabbed his arm, pinning all three boys with a piercing glare.

“Is there a problem here?” she spat. Their brave, cocky expressions all collapsed, frightened ones being left behind in their place. They slowly shook their heads, awkwardly and fearfully. One of them stepped backwards in line, as if offering JD his place back, but she just scoffed scornfully and walked forward, until the two of them were right at the front. She felt bad for the girl who was about to grab a tray and walk through to grab her food, but it was worth it to gain the satisfaction of having JD grin at not having to wait in line any longer. When the girl behind them shot them a disgruntled look, she glowered at her threateningly, which got her to lower her head.

“Nice, I love boyfriend privileges,” JD said, grabbing a tray. He stepped aside and gestured to the space next to him. “You coming?”

“I’ll be there in a bit, I still have to bother some people with today’s question.” She stepped away. “See you later.”

So, no, she wasn’t going to change anything about her relationships to get Courtney off her back. If Courtney wanted to try and have her revenge with her, then so be it. If she suffered because of her, then surely, surely it would be worth it.

[swamplatibule]

Okay so lemme talk about Steel and Smoke for a second

This was actually my first paracosm, and it‘s still my favorite to this day. I have a dream to turn it into an animated show someday, and if I can do it, it’s gonna be badass.

Okay so- The world? Genre? Space opera. The system is called Xeliah, which is also the name of a para in a very different paracosm, but that’s not important right now.

There are seventeen different planets in this system. There used to be nineteen, but two got completely destroyed in the Great War. Are there different systems? Oh yeah. Absolutely. Nobody in Xeliah really cares about them, but they definitely exist.

About 100 years ago, a woman named Silver Thurberi took of Xeliah. Just built a bigass army and went “heyyyy so I’m the queen now deal with it”. Actually there was more to it than that, there was a really long war n shit, but forget that lets focus on the now, which is under the cut because its long as shit and I don’t want to completely take over anyone’s feed.

Silver’s bloodline has been ruling over Xeliah for the past 100 years, leading up to the current empress, Arayla, and her two daughters, Fang and Nucifera.

Now Arayla? She is an absolute bitch. She’s manipulative, abusive, gaslighting, just kinda of a shithole of a human being with the audacity to consider herself better than everyone else.

She raised both of her daughters to believe that if they weren’t perfect, they were worthless. Nucifera took that in and started pushing herself to be perfect, to the point where it was self-destructive and harmful, but it put her in her mother’s favor. Fang wasn’t able to do that like Nucifera was, and thus was cast to the side. She ran away when she was ten and Nucifera was fifteen.

As of right now, Nucifera is 21, and she’s been assigned to handle the growing revolution while Arayla does her whole tyrant of the galaxy thing. That means keeping tabs on influential people, intimidating anyone who could cause a problem, and most important to the story, taking down those who are already symbols of the revolution. Namely, her current focus is taking town the galaxy's most infamous thief, the Silver Songbird. Who happens to be her sister, Fang, behind a mask and a fancy set of armor. But she doesn't know that. But before she takes down the Songbird - who, by the way, doesn't actually have any connection to the revolution, but is thought to be a part of it because they only steal from really rich pro-Araylian people, which makes sense because not many of the revolters are very well-off - there's one person she needs to take care of first. May Eternity. She's the elected leader of one of the seventeen planets, although most of the leaders are basically just figureheads for Arayla to exercise her control through. May Eternity, however, is rumored to be an important revolution leader, and there's pretty substantial evidence of it. So Arayla needs her gone, in a way that can't be traced back to them. Nucifera sends an assassin. And he fails. But, he gets out of there before he can be captured, and he manages to place the blame on the Songbird. So that kinda works in Nucifera's favor, because it puts the Songbird on the wanted list for both pro-Araylians and revolters. Technically, it doesn’t work that smoothly, because it does solidify in a few people’s minds that May isn’t a revolutionary and the Songbird is, and stuff like that. It’s messy. It’s complicated. Another issue is that the Songbird is simply a thief, not a killer, and therefore a pretty large amount of people refuse to believe that they were behind the assassination attempt.

(look at this beautiful woman, I just want her to be happy but my brain won’t let her without a Zuko-level redemption arc)

But that comes in later.

That whole murder thing is what kicks off the whole story. May’s son, Nico, wants to go after the Songbird. His mother won’t let him, saying that it’s too dangerous, but he wants answers. So he goes to find them in secret.

Here’s Nico, by the way. I’d add a link to the Picrew I used, but I believe it’s been deleted now so I kinda can’t, sorry.

Clover is a spellcaster, someone who was born with unique paranormal abilities. Hers, specifically, would be Haemokinesis and Electrokinesis. Fun fact! Spellcasters are actually a race, not just people randomly born with powers. And another fun fact! People don’t know it’s a race, they just assume all spellcasters are dangerous individuals who developed scary powers and plan to use them to destroy the world. Final fun fact? It’s illegal for them to even just exist, and it’s punishable by death (That’s why this is tagged as ‘tw racism’). So Clover has it pretty bad. She’s kept her abilities a secret for a long time, but she loses control on her fifteenth birthday and now she’s exposed so she has to run.

[Now seems like a good time to mention that the outfits aren’t super accurate to them, it was a fantasy Picrew so I just picked what I could imagine them wearing in a fantasy AU. Xelian clothing and trends are pretty cool in my opinion, maybe I’ll make a post about that sometime in the far future]

She ends up at the Falcon Station, which is basically a really big galactic gas station and diner, except it’s mainly inhabited by those running from the law. It’s not strictly revolution or Araylian, everyone there just has a mutual understanding of ‘you leave me alone, I leave you alone’.. The Songbird happens to be there too, because they have a deal with someone who works there and also it’s one of the now few places where people don’t try to kill them.

Of course, someone has a few too many drinks and decides they’re going to try and capture the Songbird for the bounty, and a fight breaks out. Clover gets caught up in the middle of it, accidentally electrocutes the dude, and now people are trying to kill her too. The Songbird saves her, and they make it onto their ship in time to get the hell out of there unscathed.

Clover is absolutely terrified, which you would probably be too if you got stuck traveling with the most wanted person in the galaxy and weren’t certain whether or not they had tried to murder someone yesterday. She doesn’t fully trust the Songbird not to kill her, and the Songbird is trying to comfort her but it’s not working and they’re also just not great at conversations because the only reason they’ve had to talk to anyone for the past, what, two years was a deal for them to steal something.

There‘s a short exchange between them, Clover mentions something about ‘I don’t know a single thing about you I don’t even know what you look like and you expect me to just trust you I have self-preservation instincts okay’

And then they just take off the helmet, and Clover realizes a few different things at once:

- The Songbird just showed their face for her?? Um?? And they’re female, k cool we‘ll remember that

- This girl looks the same age as her, like fifteen, why is she fifteen that doesn’t make sense what

- Holy shit she’s hot

and now neither of them really know what to say, because how the fuck do you respond to that?

oh my god these two precious gays

anyway turns out they don’t actually have to say anything to each other because just then, in that moment, something bumps into the ship. Guess who it is?

Yep, it’s Nico, because he’s a terrible pilot and honestly lucky that he made it out this far without dying, but it’s okay we still love him.

Check in Sometime Later For A Part Two Because I Want To Post This Now

[tharrb]

Digimon tamers retrospective- Episode 47

Well, it’s the moment you’ve all been dreading

Hey Jeri’s starting to respond

“Where is…leomon? Not here…”

Oh nevermind

Jeri’s scream fading out to the flashback is just…haunting man

Both the original and dubbed versions try to connect the flash back with Jeri’s mother’s death to leomons death

In the dub, Jeri’s father tells her that a part of her will always be with us. In the original, he’s talking to himself(ignoring his daughter, which is par for course) saying that her death was inevitable

“RUNNING AWAY FROM DESTINY?!”

The original also had no music during this scene, except for the sound of a heartbeat

I think the reason this scene is so disturbing is not because of the scene itself, but the context surrounding it: jeri has been forced to relive her worst memories(that have been warped into nightmarish fever dreams) by the eldritch horror for days on end

Seriously, jeri was treated so unfairly in tamer(not from a writing standpoint, but in-universe) tamers makes a point to show how the actions of adults lead to their children suffering, and nowhere is that more apparent then with jeri. The chain of events that led to this moment was caused by the actions of characters-shibumi unwittingly awakening the d-reaper, Hypnos letting the devas in, Zhuqiaomon sending the devas to steal calumon, beelzemon killing leomon, and even takato unleashing megidramon- and Jeri has been forced to carry the collective pain of that chain

The worst part is that jeri has done NOTHING WRONG. She’s a completely innocent life, and is still made to suffer because of the actions of others

Jeri just…doesn’t deserve this. Save her

Also the dream is intercut with the d-reaper growing, showing that it’s feeding off her misery…

In other words https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=_rek1TzX2vw

So the tamers and their families have all decided to move into Hypnos new headquarters

Daisy has managed to rebuild the arc and give it battle equipment, while also naming it grani

(From he on out, I’ll be referring to grani with they/them pronouns)

Oh looks, it’s mr. hardass supreme katou

On a more serious note, how the hell did yamaki break the news to Jeri’s family that the persons that came back on the arc wasn’t their daughter…or even a person

“They must be devastated by her disappearance” “I don’t knows looks kinda mad to me” fortunately mr.katou isn’t the kind of douchebag to victim blame his daughter for getting kidnapped

“No you’ll hurt her” “huh” “what if Jeri’s in there, you’ll hurt her” god bless you takato, all you want is jeri to make it out of this in one piece

And he immediately goes to tell Jeri’s dad not to be mad at her

And we have Rumiko and Jeri’s step-mother talking about how hard it is to be a good mother. This is especially relevant in the formers case, seeing as how she wanted to be a good mother for jeri…she was just completely out of touch with what her daughter wants or needs

It could be argued that Jeri’s stem-mom is too passive, do to her just letting jeri take her fathers punishment despite her objections

Rika herself contemplates just how blind to Jeri’s own problems. I can’t help but wonder if she thinks she deserve Jeri’s fate more, given how she acted at the beginning. Leomon only died because he tried to save renamon

Plus that’s another thing. Not once does rikas father ever show up or even try to contact his daughter, despite her fighting a war. Assuming he’s still alive(which is what rika states) does he just…not care?

And now Jeri’s dad attempts to ram a van into the eldritch horror, attempts to fight one of its agents himself, and demands to be taken in Jeri’s place. It dosent make up for how he’s treated her in the past, but it’s still an effort

“Now I see the consequences of my actions” yes you were a shitty dad and now your daughters been assimilated by a monster, I hope you’ve learned your lesson

And now we see the freakiest agent(barring the j-reaper) paratice head. I cant be the only one who sees similarities between it and siren head right?

It can also produce cameras which i headcann is how it sees m(I also headcanon that it uses echolocation)

Paratice head seems to be repeating Jeri’s thoughts on destiny, but doesn’t seem to understand what it means(or maybe it’s still trying to fuck with the tamers)

It falters on the term father do to lacking one(outside of the skunks in Silicon Valley that created it) again, it could be repeating Jeri’s emotions to fuck with her friends

Seriously, nobody thinks of how messed up it is that the big bad as a little girls voice. The voice of one of the main protagonist that it had stolen no less

I’m surprised jeri can even stomach hearing herself speak after all of this is said and done, as instead of hearing a voice that’s distinctly hers, all she hears is that thing that nearly destroyed the world

So the d-reaper is projecting images of the battle into the kernel, possibly as a way to torment jeri further

Shibumi suggest the d-reapers want to learn more about familial ties because it’s scared of the unknown, but I think it’s just trying to find out how much pain it can inflict using them

And now it’s showing jeri that her friends are getting they’re asses handed to them by the agent. No doubt it’s trying to gaslight her into thinking that it’s her fault they’re getting hurt(not that she doesn’t already believe that, but the d-reaper is just rubbing salt in the wounds)

A lot of the d-reapers actions become a lot more insidious upon rewatch

“Lonely is my destiny” no don’t say that(on a side note, jeri tenses up upon hearing that word, as she’s starting to become more lucid)

And the agent still repeats what she, almost as a way saying “this is what she has to endure. Every moment you waste is one where jeri suffers)

They finally manage to get that thing to shut up… and it’s replaced by the biggest agent yet, the optimizer. A powerful dragon like agent that can produce bubbles from itself

The good new is that grani has fully bio-emerged, and latches onto to gallentmons power to become comple(even gaining a red and gold color scheme)

Jeri hears takato’s name(probably via his psychic powers) once again starting to break free of her trance

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 12

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: Big Hero Juleka Couffaine

Note: Wound up being more complicated than I expected. French law is different from the US, and though I could fudge it, I didn’t want to.

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

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

The lawyer explained in the limo that orders of protection, under French law, were limited to domestic violence between partners, and though workplace bullying was considered “moral harassment” with criminal consequences, there were no such laws in place regarding school bullying.

“That is so not rock ‘n roll,” Jagged muttered, scowling. “French law is not cool.”

“However, French defamation law is strongly in our favor here, and you have can file a criminal complaint on your own behalf due to her defamation effecting your honor. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s parents—whom I am assuming you are including in your representation, M. Stone?—may file on her behalf given the impact of Mlle. Rossi’s defamation on her reputation.”

“Definitely including,” he said, nodding and glancing at Tom and Sabine. “Assuming you’re alright with that?”

Marinette’s parents nodded. They both seemed eager to have this taken care of.

“I’ve been concerned about Marinette for a while,” Sabine murmured, taking her daughter’s hand. “She’s seemed so… down, so distressed. I want this handled, and we’re happy you discovered this and are taking action, M. Stone.”

“I found out from Adrien, really. He came looking for help with his pops, and it all came out.”

Tom offered Adrien another pain au chocolat, smiling at him. “You’re always welcome at the bakery, son. Even if it’s just to hide from your father for a few hours.”

Adrien blushed at the attention, then was distracted when they pulled up in front of Collège Françoise Dupont.

The route from the limo to the collége was lined with reporters. Most students seemed to have all retreated into the school to avoid them. They could see Juleka peering out a window in one door, and Chloé stationed at the other.

Except for Lila, who was trying to talk to a reporter, who was clearly disinterested. When the limo driver opened the door for them, her voice lilted over the murmur, “and he used me and then dumped me!”

Marinette was getting out of the limo when they heard that, and she started to lose her balance. No one was in a position to help her.

Kagami hurried forward, managing to stay dignified as she drew Marinette into a hug that served to balance her.

“Good morning, Marinette. I love your outfit! Are you still willing to design one for me?”

Marinette flushed crimson, managing a wobbly grin as she straightened in Kagami’s embrace. “Of course, Kagami!”

They moved out of the way as Tom and Sabine exited the limo, receiving only confused murmurs from the crowd of journalists and paparazzi. They were joined by the lawyer, then Jagged and Penny, to excitement.

Lila’s eyes went wide at Jagged’s appearance, and he mugged for the cameras, tilting his Eiffel Tower sunglasses with one hand.

“This here’s my niece and favorite designer, Marinette. She designed these sunglasses, and of course my last album cover. She’s going to help me with the concept for my next album, too.”

That announcement led to shouted questions, both to Jagged and to Marinette, who stared at the journalist with wide eyes and tried (and failed) not to stutter.

It was easier after Kagami hooked their arms together and whispered. “Deep breaths. Slow exhales. You can take your time.”

Fortunately, she only had to answer one question before Adrien and Luka left the limo. After that, all attention was on them.

They were holding hands, as planned, shoulders together as though they were leaning on each other. Luka looked a little frazzled at the attention they were getting, but Adrien leaned close and murmured something Marinette couldn’t hear, and that eased the tension in his shoulders and led to the soft look that made the boyfriend claim seem believable. Flashes blinded them as journalists caught that moment on camera.

Lila chose that moment to stalk forward, pulling her hand back as though to slap… Luka? Before she could, Kagami grabbed her wrist.

“Are you attempting to assault Adrien’s boyfriend?” she demanded loudly, clearly playing for the cameras.

“That boyfriend is a pervert! A pederast!” Lila shrieked.

Luka blinked. “I’m not an adult. We’re both teenagers.”

“You’re no teenager. You’re a predator!”

Marinette stepped forward, about to lose her temper, her own hand itching to greet Lila’s face.

A slam sounded and Juleka pushed past Marinette and Kagami, her fist cocked. It hit Lila directly in the nose, sending blood droplets against the pavement, and Lila flying back against a paparazzi.

“How dare you talk about my brother that way! You’re not worthy of the bottom of his shoes!”

Juleka started to advance on the liar, who was wide-eyed and silent, sprawled on the ground.

Penny pulled the raging teen back, and Rose joined her, holding her around the waist and looking horrified.

“And that, folks, is Luka Couffaine’s little sister, Juleka,” Jagged announced. “Little spitfire, she is, just like her mum. You may recognize Couffaine, as in Anarka, my former guitarist and their lovely mother. You don’t cross a Couffaine.”

Lila tried to get herself together. “Luka was trying to court Marinette first!”

Marinette took a deep breath, taking comfort in Kagami’s hand on her back. “He needed a cover to be able to go out with Adrien. Kagami and I stepped up. That’s all.”

“There was reason to keep it secret,” Kagami said, taking over the story they’d decided on. “The moment Adrien’s father learned of it, he tried to make Adrien break up with Luka and date Lila. She is furious because her plan to entrap him did not work.”

That news was greeted by another murmur from the crowd, this one louder. Marinette could see the Gorilla on the outskirts, towering over the rest. Adrien waved at him, and the man cocked the first smile she’d ever seen from him, and then walked away.

Marinette remembered it was her turn to speak. “And, really, Lila’s been grabbing on him and verging on sexual assault for weeks. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. If anyone’s a predator, it’s her.”

Lila let out a growl and threw herself toward Marinette. Kagami pulled her out of the way and left her foot out to send the girl sprawling.

“Perhaps this is a good time for me to step in,” the lawyer said smoothly, stepping between them and Lila. “You have been lying about my client and his employee. You claimed you were injured on behalf of my client while saving a nonexistent kitten, and that he then wrote a song for you in gratitude, spreading this rumor around your collége, and reaching beyond via a blog interview. You have engaged in a defamation and insult campaign against his employee, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, and even attempted to have her expelled based on lies. You have, in fact, threatened to do worse, which I’m guessing is what the attempted assault just now was. M. Stone does not tolerate defamation against himself or his staff, and M. Dupain and Mme. Cheng do not tolerate defamation against their daughter.”

She pulled out several papers, holding them out to Lila as she picked herself off the ground.

“The offense against M. Stone is public, as it appeared on a public and widely-read blog. The offenses against Mlle. Dupain-Cheng are considered non-public. But we have filed criminal defamation charges against you, Mlle. Rossi. These are copies of the filings. Copies are also being delivered to your mother at her workplace.”

Lila snatched the papers and crumpled them, her jaw tight with rage, blood still dripping from her nose. “M. Agreste made me! He said to deal with Marinette, that she was a bad influence!”

Marinette gasped, feeling Kagami stiffen beside her. Adrien was staring in open-mouthed horror. Luka looked angry, and Jagged looked livid. Tom and Sabine were exchanging worried looks. The reporters were murmuring again. All of this was, of course, being aired and reported on.

“Interesting public allegations.” The lawyer smiled. “Obviously, you will receive more official documents on the charges by the court.”

“Just what is going on here?”

Principal Damocles was standing inside the door of the school.

“This is a place of education, not a media circus!”

Lila seized an opportunity. “Juleka punched me, M. Damocles! I think she broke my nose!”

“Juleka—”

“Actually,” the lawyer interrupted smoothly, “given that this took place on the sidewalk rather than within the school, M. Damocles has no jurisdiction. Mlle. Rossi is of course able to file assault charges; however, given that Mlle. Couffaine is the daughter of a former employee of M. Stone, and Mlle. Rossi had just engaged in very public defamation against her brother on camera in front of journalists, it is likely M. Stone will ask I amend the filing to include M. Couffaine as a victim.”

“Yep!” Jagged popped the ‘p.’

Lila went pale, her fists shaking.

“And we have further business with M. Damocles. Given the ‘media circus,’ and attempted assault by Mlle. Rossi, M. Couffaine will be escorted home by M. Stone’s limo driver.”

Marinette turned to Adrien and Luka, who were still holding hands and looking a bit frozen. Adrien recognized that it was their cue first, turning to Luka and looking a bit shy.

“Will I see you for lunch?”

Luka smiled, reaching up with his free hand to brush a lock of hair from Adrien’s face. “Of course, mon étoile. I look forward to it.”

The blush on Adrien’s face looked real as Luka brought up his hand to kiss it, then embraced him.

The cameras ate it up, just as they had expected. Luka managed to look longing as he let go of Adrien and stepped back into the limo, his part of the morning done.

Kagami squeezed Marinette’s shoulder, leaning close. “I must leave if I am to arrive to school on time. You will prevail. And if you need protection, I believe Mlle. Juleka is a wonderful candidate for the job.”

Marinette turned to give Kagami a hug. Adrien did as well, and together they watched for a moment as she weaved her way through the paparazzi before they turned back to the task at hand.

Phase Two: the school.

[berri-hopefulspouse]

-- A Look Into The Past --

[ Reuploaded for your convenience~ Because tumblr is an ass~ ]

Fandom & Characters: Danganronpa, Ren (DR s/i, Ultimate Empath), [Mentioned/Minor roles] Celestia Ludenberg, Chihiro Fujisaki, Junko Enoshima, Sayaka Maizono, Makoto Naegi, Aoi Asahina, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Yasuhiro Hagakure, various Future Foundation technicians and scientists

TW: Self-Harm & Suicide Mentions/Implications, violence/gore warning, emetophobia, Laboratory/Science stuff, Panic attacks, Runaway, Dissociation, Dysphoria implication, Neglect, Bullying mention, General assholery, Hella angst, Mention of bondage & restraints (mostly as jokes), Deadname drop, general PTSD stuff, Hallucinations, Alcohol mention, Homo & transphobia, NB-Phobia, Manipulation, Gaslighting

AN: Another reuploaded story from my previous account! This one was definitely the most uh. Chaotic in terms of trigger warnings, as you can see. All of these are events following THH, and not long before the events that predate DR2 occur. So keep that in mind. ALSO! At the time this is posted (10/3/2020) - this is the story that precedes the current F/O event going on, hinted at here. 

Summary: After the events at Hopes Peak High, each member of the class- over time- are put into a procedure to regain the memories lost over the 2 years. It’s Ren’s turn, and being the last one for various personal reasons- they are nervous. Is it worth it to retrieve memories of the past? Or would they have been better off not knowing at all?…

Fidget. Fidget and broil in thought. Fidget and listen. Listen. 

“You understand the conditions in which you'll go under, Mx?” An older man asked them, “The process will take but a few hours, with one of the devices we have on hand.” They didn't know much of this man- save for one thing. He was one of the technical scientists who worked for Future Foundation- something somewhat new to the brunette.

The weeks following their escape from Hopes Peak...from Junko...it was a bit messy. Scooped up by this organization that apparently was the revolution for hope and trying to contain the disease that was despair. Taking days to breathe and recover from the events, only to have to explain themselves alongside their classmates. So, here they were now. One by one, they were all being asked the same thing; Do they want their memories recovered? Do they want to recall the two years lost to them due to Junko’s meddling?...

“Yes, I understand.” Soren mumbles, shyly, wringing their hands into their shirt, “I am ready to proceed.” 

Whether they were ready for it or not, they knew they had to know. They had to know what they missed, how they were connected to everyone...what their past was like…

Believe it or not, even their childhood felt fuzzy to them. In a way, them and Kirigiri were connected in that sense. Theirs however was...different. 

‘I’m the last one who’s going through this procedure…’ They recalled to themselves as they got up, following the scientist into the laboratory...they felt nervous- and part of them wished Makoto was with them to offer some reassurance.

‘He’s been running himself ragged lately with tasks and plans though, we’ve all been working hard...I let him rest when I got called up.’ 

They thought back to exactly why they were one of the last people to be brought to this laboratory. Intensive therapy, trying to recover from the events of the Killing School life...sure, it affected everyone quite differently, but for them it almost seemed to bring out the worst in them. Persistent nightmares, paranoia, fainting spells… It didn’t take long for them to be brought to counselling once the others found out- although it was mostly due to Makoto outting his concern for them.

‘They figured it was PTSD, naturally. I knew that, it’s basic psychology... But still…’ From what they explained… ‘It seems like it goes far beyond just Hopes Peak. It just seemed like that whole shitshow might’ve just been a breaking point.’ 

Sitting down in one of the chairs in the laboratory, they looked to the various technicians who were around. All typing away at computers, ready to begin the process.

“Like I said, this will take a few hours...and given your special circumstance, definitely a bit longer than most to recover. However, we’re also not certain if all your memories will be recovered.” He explained, securing both their legs and arms to the chair with small clasps. Easy enough to break out of given an emergency were to occur, but enough to restrain any potential flailing. They lightly tugged on the restraints, feeling very little give.

“You going to explain the bondage, or am I just gonna have to deduce that on my own accord?” They joked lightly, giving a shaky smile to the older man who shook his head with a sigh, ignoring the younger adult’s antics.

“They’re just in case. We don’t know what memories might surface, and given your previous history...we just want to make sure you don’t injure yourself in any way.” 

Looking away, they felt the slight phantom burns along their wrist as they recalled exactly what they all meant. Sure, the scars on their wrist were...older than they recalled...Most of which were faded deep into their skin. All except one, from a more recent relapse episode.

‘Hence the need to keep me safe, I guess,’ They thought to themselves, ‘No one at Future Foundation really treats me like the rest of the class…’

And why would they? Ren was a special case, after all, being hung with a slew of various mental disorders… As the psychologist in charge of them put it; “They walk the line of both hope and despair. They try so desperately to cling to hope, but given their potential history, succumbing to despair might simply be an inevitability.”

That anxious thought caused them to shudder, not quite listening to the scientific rambling of the technician as they secured a device to their head. Deep breaths...one after another. The static in their ears receded, until they heard the technician speak again.

“Did you hear what I said, Soren?”

“Huh? Oh. Oh yeah!” They lied through their teeth, “Let’s just get this over with, yeah…”

The technician headed out of the room, reappearing behind the glass wall that was before them. Taking one last glance around the room, it was circular. It reminded them almost of the trial grounds- but more...high-tech. It was an observation room of sorts, however, shown by the glass and the scientists working away behind it. 

‘This is either going to go well…...or really, really poorly.’ They thought to themselves as they took a slow breath. 

There was a slight crackle, an intercom. Their heartbeat skipped for a second but they quickly regathered themselves. 

‘It’s not him. You’re not there anymore.’ They reminded themselves as a voice came on.

“Okay, we’re going to begin the procedure. Are you ready?”

They tried giving a stiff nod, but finding their head was basically fixed in place, simply hummed.

“Ready.”

“Proceeding then, in Five...Four...Three…”

‘Deep breaths, in and out.’

“Two…”

‘Everythings going to be just fine.’

“One.” 

A weird sensation started, right at their temples, only mere moments after the word left the technician’s mouth. Then, a low hum, that made Ren sit a bit straighter with a nervous anxiety and itch at their mind. The hum got louder, louder, louder still…

Until they completely blacked out, altogether.

–☆–

“Ḷ̵̨̜̹̣̖̮̮́ȁ̶̧̼͖̥̰̱̆̈́͂i̴̦̗̪̯̲̻͇̫͑̾̄̆l̸̘̗͕͎̩̈́̄̃͆a̷̡̯͑̑̃̔̈̂̓.̸͓̮̓͂͛̆̏͗̈.̷̗̲̞͙̼̗̈́͗͌̈́͜͠͝.̸̡̛̺̰͓̟̼̙̙̯̀̂̌̓̅͑͜͜?̶͔͍͛̾̊̑̓̇̌̈̅̈́̚͝͝”

A voice. Disconnected. Everything felt heavy, almost familiarly so. The name- it didn’t feel like their own, and it rang with such a chord of familiarity that it felt like a dagger straight through their throat. They suddenly felt so...so sick, but they couldn’t place why... 

“Laila?” A bit louder this time, taking a slow breath in and out, they- no, she- looked up.

“Huh?”

She was seated at a desk- one that...she(-they, no wait uh)...she believed was their own. However, the face that greeted her...she couldn’t even figure out who it was.

“Jeez, I can’t believe you fell asleep in class again.” The person said, a cheeky grin on his features. Jet black hair and light brown eyes greeted (him...them, fuck-) her, and she tried putting a name to a face but...she can’t seem to quite remember, “C’mon, slowass, we’ve got practice.”

“Pra...practice?” 

Drama practice.

The word clicked into her mind, and almost instantly she sat up further.

“Oh shit- That’s today?!”

“No duh, it’s Tuesday, remember?! Sheesh, you’re so forgetful. Cmon-!” 

Before the person- Viktor, the name clicked in her brain almost like it was always there- could finish what she was saying, the brunette had gotten up and run out of the room, into a hallway. 

‘Hercules Middle School…’ She thought to herself (Himself? Why was it so difficult?), as she ran down the hallway, ‘I always grew up here...jeez, I just wanna leave from this nightmare of a school already.’ 

She skidded a bit as they turned, running straight into a wall with a slight thud and a yelp of pain.

“Okay, ow.” She groaned a bit, blinking. He- She had ended up on the floor, head fuzzy slightly as she pulled themselves to their feet.

“Sheesh, dude, you’re so clumsy.” Viktor talked to her, chuckling as she pulled herself to her feet, only to get smacked upside the head, “Watch where you’re walking next time!”

“Eheh...s-sorry.” She stuttered a bit, almost shy. 

“Don’t apologize for everything, man, it’s gonna look pathetic on ya,” Viktor assured, causing her to blush a bit and look away.

“R-right.”

She chuckled nervously, not meeting his expression- afraid to express his- her (their?) mild hurt at what he said.

“Lets get going, we’re running late.”

“Okay…”

With that said, Viktor quickly took a hold of her hand, and the two quickly raced off through the winding corridors of the school.

Even so, as they started to step into the gym, he felt a slight buzz in her pocket. Taking out her phone- dated as it was- they checked the message she received from their- His- her childhood best friend...Kayla.

[ (Kay) 2:43 PM: Hey...dude, U should see this shit. Are you with Vik rn? ]

[ (Lai) 2:44 PM: Yea, y? ]

[ (Kay) 2:44 PM: U need to see this. ]

[ [Kayla sent IMG32452 ] ]

Looking at the image, her heart froze. It was a series of texts between her and Viktor, with the former talking about how childish she was. How much of a crybaby she was over the littlest things, sensitive to every little poke at her. How much of a copycat she was. How it was just so easy to be friends with her, to use her...And her eyes teared up. Kayla looked to be at least trying to defend her...these weren’t even from 20 minutes ago… 

“Laila? You coming, dude?” His-Her thoughts were interrupted by Viktor, as their head jerked up to look at him. He-- She didn’t know what she felt. Part of her wanted to hit him, part of him wanted to scream at him, part of them wanted to ask if they did something wrong...but...

“I...Uh...I don- I don’t feel good suddenly. T-Tell t-them I’ll be in...in a minute…” She mumbled out, feet slowly staggering back as an arm laced around their stomach. That wasn’t entirely a lie, either, they felt faint…they felt sick...she felt...hurt.

Before Viktor could see them cry...she turned and ran off, tears blurring his-(her-their--) her vision as the squeak of sneakers filling the hallways and their crowded mind. 

The colors around them blurred, holding their head in their hands as they trembled in place. Suddenly, they were in the bathroom- though they sensed the day was different than it was mere moments ago. But that wasn’t what was taking up their thoughts. It was staring into the mirror- at the square glasses and overly pudgy baby-face they have. Staring at someone that wasn't her- that isn’t who they are! 

‘Fuck, fuck, why do I hate myself so much?!’ (They- She- he-) She asked herself, struggling to breathe. Even being in the girls’ bathroom felt suffocating, but it was all she knew. Sure, she didn’t feel “dysphoria” like Viktor did...but she felt wrong. She felt WRONG. Her arms shook, nails digging into her skin as she hugged herself tightly. She wanted to shave all her hair off- she wanted to rip off her chest- she wanted- she wanted--

‘Agh! I can’t...I can’t breathe-!’ She forced herself to look away from the mirror, thinking about all the times she was addressed as a girl...all the times she felt wrong in an environment where she should feel comfortable. She always considered herself a tomboy- someone who definitely wasn’t on the feminine side of things...but it felt deeper. Her name made her want to puke- this long hair made her want to scream. The floofy, glittery, feminine clothing made her want to cry, scream, do anything. Something. But all she could do was struggle to breathe, struggle to consider what was happening to her.

That wasn’t even going into all the bullying. How she didn’t fit in with anyone in her class- even amongst her friends. She didn’t THINK she was transgender like Viktor was, but she knew something was...wrong with her. Something different. She couldn’t be a girl, either, she couldn’t be. All the torture she went through day to day- with her family, with her friends, with her classmates, with her-fucking-self. She was in a war she felt like she was losing.

‘...Wouldn’t it be great, if I died right here?’ A voice whispered in the back of their head, causing them to freeze up, ‘Taking the razors and digging them deep into your neck-’

“Laila?”

A voice from outside the bathroom quickly shut them out of their intrusive, suicidal thoughts. She recognized that voice- it was the school nurse. She took a deep breath, in and out- but words struggled to escape their throat, save for a soft squeak of a sob. 

“Is everything okay?...”

‘...I can’t keep doing this to myself...I-I need to tell her...what’s going on…’ She at least was self-aware enough to know that much. She couldn’t put herself through her own hell anymore...So whether she was ready for whatever would come or not...she rubbed her eyes a bit, slowly stepping back out into the hallway to try and finally reach out- after years of remaining silent. 

...Darkness...it kept swallowing them up, almost like a tidal wave. It took a second to recall what was going on. Right. The procedure. Future Foundation. Was...was that a memory then? Were these dreams of memories of their past? How long did they feel like this?!

‘Viktor…’ The name felt bitter on their tongue, and with it a small swell of various emotions came to head. Depression, anguish, betrayal…

‘He talked shit behind my back… we went all the way back to middle school. I trusted him with everything but…’

A voice, Viktor’s, cut through the noise of their head.

“C’mon man, you know I never mean it. Besides, if you weren’t such a damn prick, I wouldn’t need to call you out on your shit all the time.”

“Jeez, you never had gender issues before until I started bringing up that I was trans. What are ya, a copycat?”

“What are you gonna say next, that you’re trans too? Haha! Dude, Nonbinary folk can’t be trans. Besides, you don’t have any physical dysphoria, yeah?”

For years, he manipulated them. Teased them. Backstabbed them.

‘How could I forget about him?...How could I forget about how I was treated growing up by everyone?! Well, I guess I chose to after I came to Japan…’ 

The sadistic smile came into their mind’s eyes. Those dark brown eyes they admired for so long...it was because of him they became an artist. That they were exposed to who they were, and yet-

A sharp pain echoed through the back of their head, causing them to physically flinch- though it was restricted.

‘That’s right, I was bound to that chair in case something unforeseen happened…’ They reminded themselves, despite still trying to thrash. If their voice would work, they’d likely be crying out in pain. 

Still, after another moment, the pain ebbed a bit. They recalled something else. Why that betrayal, that anger...it was so strong…

The blog. The hate. The messages telling them to do something drastic- to kill themselves. The pressure that nearly did cost them their life, had it not been for their escape…

‘...Yet it took me until...some point later...because I know he’s definitely not in my life anymore.’ They told themselves, taking a few breaths to try and ease the picture of the blog from their mind- to stop themselves from seeing red.

They didn’t notice the shuddering they were feeling until a few moments later, but that soon calmed back down.

‘...I do wonder how Kayla is...I didn’t even remember her until now. Did she hurt me too? Did she forget about me when I ran away to Japan…? I don’t know..’ Still, they sighed as Viktor’s laugh cut through their thoughts. Despite themselves, they felt a sense of nostalgia at the sound. 

‘Even if he’s a bastard...even though he hurt me in ways that could potentially never heal...I hope he’s doing okay in all of this.’ That little part of them whispered in the space of their subconscious, as memories of their friendship swirled in their mind, ‘I wouldn’t wish despair like this on anyone else…’

It was vague images, ones that felt distant enough that they couldn’t recall in full detail, but they were still there...his house- all the sleepovers. He helped them get their hair cut. He helped them with art. He introduced them to all sorts of new media that, looking back then, they realized was what made them who they were now… A small smile drew out of them. He took them in when they almost couldn’t take their home life anymore, for a short time. Laughing together with Kayla...it felt so distant, but the happiness they felt then...it was still real. It was still real to them, throughout all of that.

Still, that hum, that distinct hum from before that they realized had fallen into the background noise was suddenly at the forefront of their attention once more- growing louder and changing frequency, in a way that made it feel like they were burning. Not with any emotion, but just...burning. 

Soon, their thoughts slipped away once more, and with it- the hum died back down once more. 

“All readings are going according to plan.” One scientist said to another, “Though we’re picking up distress and hints of pain after turning up the frequency... Is the machine correctly calibrated?”

“It should be as such, unless…” The technician that talked to the brunette earlier pursed his lips in though, before hissing lightly in annoyance through his teeth, “...Unless the subject has an auditory processing issue. Shit- Turn the frequency down a few notches.”

“But sir, if we do so, the memories will most definitely be unable to resurface. Remember, this science isn’t quite perfect yet- we can’t make expenses for the issue.” One female technician spoke up, adjusting her glasses.

“...” The man bit his nail nervously, before sighing and nodding, “Of course. Continue the procedure.” 

–☆–

“Where is that piece of shit kid?!” It was dark. There was lightning going on outside. Their heart was racing, “I’m going to rip her to shreds!”

‘It’s just a hallucination, god please just let it be a hallucination,’ They thought to themselves, closing their eyes- trying to shut out the feeling of fear- even if their head was pounding. 

“I can’t believe she got another F on a math test- can you believe this?! I work with her constantly on it, and yet it's like she doesn’t even hear me!” The gruff man grumbled, the voice a distinct echo, as the brunette hid their face into their knees. The sounds of screaming, the sounds of banging… the sounds of things being thrown- it made their heart race. But they knew better. These were just their mind playing games on them from the past. Focus. They had to ground themselves, but…

‘I’m so scared, god I’m so damn scared…’ They took a few deep breaths, putting their hands to their ears. Focus. 

‘I’m in my room. It’s summer. There’s rain outside and the...smell of... alcohol... is very strong in the air… M-maybe I should open the window.’ Reaching up, they fiddle with the locks in their window for a few moments before flinging it open, letting the smell of nighttime air and rain pattering to the ground slowly drown out the scent of booze that lingered. In moments, the noise in their ears ebbed, and they were able to breathe again. Thankfully. With a bit more focus, the numbness seeped in, and they felt themselves slowly relax. Numbness...it was the only reprieve from the living nightmare of their heart. Controlling it took practice, and being able to shut everything out...it was their only escape. Even if…

‘...Even if it cost someone their life before because of my neglect…’ They thought to themselves, feeling their focus wane and the anxiety starting to ebb back into their vision.

“It’s okay...it’s okay…” They whispered to themselves as they got up, “It’s...It’s not like that anymore. It’s..It’s okay.” They forced themselves to breathe again, focusing again on keeping that numbness deep in- if only to protect themselves from their own pain. They had to get up. They had things to do. They had to keep going. 

Their feet felt heavy, slowly gliding across their small room and peering out into the hallway. Silence. Somber, peaceful silence- save for the sounds of the television faintly heard from downstairs. Slowly slipping downstairs, a voice greeted them.

“La- I-I mean, Soren?” 

“Y-yeah?” They stuttered out, feigning a smile as they poked their head over to where their father sat on the couch- watching the television screen. He at least tried with them, but still…

“Did you take your medication?”

“I-I’m gonna…” They mumbled sheepishly, their smile flickering a bit.

“Are you okay?”

“.....Y-yeah.” They lied through their teeth- in a manner that was not at all subtle. Part of them wondered if he’d ask, or if he’d just happen to not notice again.

“...Okay.” He smiled, “Don’t forget you start class next week. Hercules High needs you!” 

“R-right…”

“And don’t forget you perform for the next few weeks!”

“I-I do? B-but I thought that wasn’t until next week!” Their shock was portrayed in their tone, feeling their heart race. Summer felt like the only time they got to rest, and even then it didn’t feel like it was long enough to deal with the stress they went under.

“They’re starting volleyball season early, and you know the boss needs you.” He shrugged it off, ignoring the clear concern on their features, which fell to simple stress. A few moments of silence drawled on- to which they felt their phone go off in their pocket. They didn’t look at it for a little while, trying to not start crying at even the slightest thought of performing, before finally speaking up once more in a defeated tone.

“...O-Okay. I’ll g-go take my medication, night dad…” “Night sweetie!”

As they tiptoed away though, walking only on the balls of their feet, one thought only crossed their mind.

‘I need to get out of here. I can’t wait to escape any longer. I can’t wait. I can’t deal with the bullying anymore...I can’t take the manipulation anymore...’ A slow inhale, a slow exhale. They had been preparing it for months. Getting a passport, slowly packing things they would need- including funds to transfer from euros into yen…

‘I have to buy that ticket tonight. The last plane out for the next week.’

Their phone buzzed again, which brought them from their thoughts. Slowly, they sighed, taking out their phone.

‘If anyone can calm me down after this nightmare, it’d be my friends-’ They thought to themselves, until seeing the ID.

[ (Stepmom) 11:34 PM: Have you helped your dad out with his account yet? You have to take care of him you know, he can’t take care of himself. ]

Their blood boiled a bit, and despite themselves they quickly texted back.

[ (Ren) 11:35 PM: ...I’m 16, I shouldn’t have to take care of my own parents. Also, it depends- do you still have my binder hidden away somewhere? ]

[ (Stepmom) 11:37 PM: Your what? ]

[ (Ren) 11:37 PM: You know what it is, because I haven’t seen it since I put it in the wash a month ago. ]

For several minutes, as Ren went about the kitchen preparing their medication, they watched her type, the ‘(...)’ making them nervous as they tapped their fingers along their side. But, eventually…

[ (Stepmom) 11:41 PM: Oh, that. It’s going to hurt you if you wear it, it’s too tight. Honestly, I don’t know why you wear something that physically hurts you, so I threw it out. ]

[ (Ren) 11:41 PM: . . . You what. ]

It took everything in them to not throw their phone at the wall in anger. They saved up for months for that! They just wanted to present as themselves! It wasn’t even that tight compared to other, less safer binders! It fit fine!

[ (Stepmom) 11:43 PM: This is for your own good, darling. After all, you wouldn’t want your chest to start sagging, would you? ]

[ (Ren) 11:44 PM: I told you it fit fine. I told you not to mess with it, and how to properly wash it, and you decide to throw it out? The thing I bought with my own money? ]

[ (Stepmom) 11:45 PM: I told you, it’s for your own good. Besides, this phase of yours with being ‘transgender’ will pass in time. ]

Slow breath, in and out. Their grip on their phone tightened before turning it off altogether, taking very intentional slow breaths so they didn’t outright explode into a fit of anger in the middle of the kitchen.

‘She never fucking understands! I explained it to her so many times, I’ve told her this wasn’t just a phase, I begged her to use my name and let me just exist- but she just...can’t! And my dad never does anything! They’ll never do anything!! I just...I wanna be myself. I can’t take it anymore!’ 

As they gathered their medication, which rested in the kitchen, along with a bottle of water, they looked to their father’s wallet- which rested on the counter. They just needed to pay for the plane ticket... Slowly, they crept over, thinking to themselves, ‘...Am I doing this?’ 

Their grip shakes for a moment, trembling with anxiety- anger, sadness...every emotion at once swirling inside like a broiling soup, ready to boil over...They took a photo of the credit card- front to back, and slipped it back into his wallet.

‘...I have no choice.’

In one blink, they were upstairs. The next, purchasing the next plane ticket out of there. The next, slipping out of their room and onto the lower roof of their 2 floored house. The next, running down the street and down to the bus stop. The next, in an airport. And the next...they were gone. Over the course of the next...several hours...All of this occurred within the next day or so, even if everything felt like a blur. There was anxiety flooding through their veins, slowly breathing in and out.  Looking down while seated in the plane, they noted the transfer papers in their lap. A normal, public high school. They did it. They got out. They were free of everything. Of a shitty, unsupportive home life… of friends who only used them for the money they had, and talked shit behind their back...of the work that dragged them rugged...they were free. 

They were finally, finally....free.

....And slowly, just like that, the awareness came back. The feeling of their hands, their legs, and the emotions that came from those memories.

‘That’s right...I ran away from home to transfer to a normal life...I got a part time job, cut off everyone I knew in the past...and left. It wasn’t even just that my family was...abusive… Or at least at that point, But they were…. Neglectful. Emotionally and mentally neglectful... My father...he didn’t acknowledge how poorly he raised me, forced me to work on my singing abilities even when sick or mentally unwell… put so much pressure on my schoolwork that chores and life-skills took a back seat. My stepmother was transphobic, homophobic...and my mother…’

Their thoughts trailed off for a short moment...before the realization cut their heart in two.

‘I haven’t heard from her since I was 7.’

A crippling feeling of loneliness flooded their thoughts, and they swore they felt warmth trailing down their cheek. They swore they felt this before...they knew this feeling of loneliness, and it felt suffocating. It felt like only until recently...they had never known what it felt like to truly belong somewhere… Shit- they were definitely crying, they felt tears falling off their cheek with what awareness they had of their surroundings, despite their eyes being closed. They tried to reach up, to wipe it off, but they once again felt the tight leather restraints keeping them still. 

“Hey, Deep breaths.” A voice cut through the pain. The technician, “How are you feeling right now?”

Their eyes fluttered a bit, and eventually...opened. Their body felt heavy. It took a moment or two to piece together how their tongue worked again, but then they eventually mumbled between nervous clicks of their tongue. 

“Shitty, thanks,” They sarcastically muttered, “I’m doing as well as I can be. How long has it been?”

“4 hours.” The technician spoke up, “Do you recollect anything from Hopes Peak yet, Ren?”

“...No.” They took a second to gather their thoughts, slowly shaking their head as slightly as they could to try and clear the feeling of static and prickles that surrounded their headspace, “Just...my childhood.” 

“Right. Well, we’re about halfway done. If we tried going past 8 hours...well, we don’t know what sort’ve effect it might have on you.” 

The intercom spoke, as they nodded, taking another breath. They had stopped crying by now.

“How does this equipment work again?” They were a bit curious now, and it's not like they were really paying attention earlier when he probably was explaining it to them. The sigh he gave confirmed this suspicion, and while quietly smothering the instant guilt in their stomach that came with feeling like a burden for making him repeat himself, he spoke.

“It basically delivers electromagnetic waves through your ears and to your brain, and depending on the frequency we put through these waves, it will help drudge up any forgotten memories...That is to say, it is impossible to ‘steal’ memories persay- but with the right technology, repressing them very deeply into your mind is very possible. It takes very miniscule, very specific triggers to drudge them back to the surface. That’s what the humming is- the electromagnetic waves,” He explained, “However, we cannot select what you do and don’t remember...and given you have ADHD, what you do recall can vary greatly. You still might not remember as much as most of your classmates, hence why yours is taking that much longer compared to your peers.”

“ADHD...of course this is the first I’m hearing of it,” They noted, spite in their tone, “Gotta have a word with that shrink later.” Even if, thinking of it then, ADHD clicked perfectly with how they acted and their personality. 

“Soren, please do not nearly break the arm of another psychologist.” 

The technician’s exasperation was heard in his tone, watching the brunette’s dark eyes blink up towards where he was sitting in the window. He was holding what, they could only imagine, was yet another coffee. A small stack sat on the desk next to him.

“Nah, I won’t…” They responded, hiding a hint of a chuckle at his tone...They were about to ask another question before quickly giving the slightest shake of their head to brush it off, “Anyway, let’s keep going, yeah?”

“Right. Ready to go back under? Now, I won’t be able to speak to you again until after the procedure ends. While you’re under, you’re technically unconscious, but after each memory ends- you’re briefly brought back to a slight sense of consciousness to give your head a break. Understand?”

“Gotcha, doc.” Their tone was thick with drowsiness, the slight irish drawl slipping between pursed lips. They were sleepy already… What time was it?

“Right...Good luck, Mx.” 

The hum started back up as he spoke, growing louder until his voice was drowned out altogether. One breath in...One breath out...And their head went slack once more as they fell unconscious. 

–☆–

How is it someone like them got accepted here again?

They honestly had no clue. Extensive testing, sure, they were a decent learner...but their emotional capabilities were apparently one to behold. Sure, they knew they helped a student down and away from suicide, but honestly? Anyone could really do that. Either way, after further examination, they were the designated ‘Ultimate Empath’...Jeez, what the HELL were they doing here?

‘But I mean...if those rumors I heard are true, I’ll be set for life,’ They thought to themselves, shyly posted up in the main hall- watching slowly students trickle in of all ages, ‘And I don’t want to work a part-time job for the rest of my life.’ 

Some were talking amongst themselves, others kept to themselves but...they were amongst the latter, arms nervously crossed over their torso. Amongst orientation, they would be introduced to the classes specifically picked for each individual student, and fitted into proper ‘Hopes Peak’ uniforms….you know, the same ones no one seemed to really wear- if the appearance of some upperclassmen were any indication. 

But they, personally? They didn’t want to make themselves too known within the class. After all, they knew there were missing posters for their deadname so if they weren’t careful…

‘I can’t go back home. I can’t. But also...do I really belong here?’

Looking around, the energy of everyone seemed so...so different...compared to them. So much stronger, mentally and physically. Confident. Cheerful. Perfect.

‘...Maybe I shouldn't be here.’ Their thoughts started walking away with them as they slowly started backing over towards the door…

Only to run into someone- causing both of them to start to stumble. 

“Eep-!” 

          “Whoa!”

They felt the person behind them, though, trip, and suddenly, they were on the floor, on top of this poor unfortunate soul. A few moments of silence pass, a few classmates piping in, asking if they were both okay, before Ren slowly sat up, rubbing their head… only to realize they probably nearly crushed the person below them, and jumping up to their feet. 

“Oh my gods, I'm so sorry!” Their voice came out as a shrill squeak, slightly muffled as their hands clasped over their mouth in anxious surprise.

“Ah, jeez-” The boy in question they watched as he rubbed the back of his head, “I-it’s alright, really… Should’ve watched what was in front of me.” He laughed softly, and they looked away.

They wouldn’t lie...he was pretty cute.

“D-did you just walk in? I-I mean, it’s normal not to notice me...I’m pretty short.” They asked and explained themselves, fiddling with their fingers.

“Yeah, I did...and believe me-” He got up himself, standing not much taller than the brunette in question, probably around 5’2”-5’3” or so compared to their 4’10”, “I’m...Not much better in terms of height.”

There was a bewildered silence for a few moments, before the two in question bursted into a small fit of laughter, doubled over in their fit of snickers. As a result, they relaxed a bit, calming down around this boy. 

“I’m guessing you’re also in my class then?” They asked, wiping away a small tear from their eye.

“Yeah, actually. What’s your name?” Olive eyes met their own, and they tried everything in their being to keep from squeaking shyly at the eye contact.

“N-Name’s Soren. U-Ultimate Empath. And you?” They offered a hand to him, despite themselves. The boy in question chuckled, taking their hand in his own and giving a soft squeeze as he shook their hand.

“Makoto Naegi...I-I’m the Ultimate Lucky Student, apparently.” He spoke, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. Ren tilted their head, curious.

“Luck student? How the hell do you measure luck…?” They asked, obliviously. Makoto sighed, looking a bit downcast, and they could practically see the insecurity written in his body language and face.

“It’s a long story...But honestly, it’s...kinda ridiculous.” He mumbled, “Not sure if someone like you would wanna hear about it.”

“No, no.” They quickly shook their head, not retracting their hand and instead putting their other hand on his, leaning a bit closer with intrigue written on their features, “I wanna know… If you’re comfortable talking about it, of course. I mean…” They tilted their head, “It’s weird feeling different from the other Ultimates, huh?”

His eyes widened, caught off guard, “How did you…” They grinned a bit, a soft smile, “Empath, remember? I can sense your distress about being here...I can sense your nerves. You don’t...feel like you belong, do you?” They asked.

Makoto blinked for a few moments, eyes searching theirs for any sign of joking, before sighing and relaxing a bit. Right.

“Spot on, I guess. Alright, alright, I’ll spill. But you best not tell anyone else, okay?” Makoto put a finger to his lips, a curl of a joking smirk on their face. At that moment, they noticed the faint sprinkling of freckles across his face, the slight dimples in his features when he grinned...Their heart jumped a bit, and they laughed.

“I won’t tell a soul.”

In one blink, there they were talking to Makoto, and in the next…

“Ren?” Looking over, they found themselves in a different environment. They were seated outside, underneath a tree, with a few other girls around them. If memory serves right… 

‘This is Chihiro, Celestia, and Asahina.’ Their memory clicked perfectly back together.

“Hey!” It was Hina talking, “Dude, are you okay? You were spacing out pretty hard there.”

Ren blinked a bit, before shyly chuckling and looking away, “Ah, yeah, I’m okay. That just...tends to happen.” 

Hina blinks a bit before shaking her head, “Well, yeah, clearly. You should really get that checked out you know! If you can’t even focus on food, how will you be able to focus in class?! I mean, midterm exams are coming up soon you know.”

“...A Lot of studying.” They chuckled nervously, biting their nails, “Still, I just have a lot on my mind lately, I guess.”

“A- A-lot on your mind?” Chihiro spoke up, blinking and leaning a bit closer towards Ren, “D-does it have to do w-with studying?” “...No, I wouldn’t say that…” They mumbled, shyly, looking down at their food and taking a shy bite.

‘How can I tell them everything that goes on in my head? How can I tell them that it's a fight everyday to survive? How can I explain...that something’s wrong with me?’

Simply put, they couldn’t. They managed a small smile and chuckled.

“Just thinking of boys, I guess.” They quickly averted the actual subject- unknowing of them setting themselves up for disaster.

“Oooh?” Asahina got a mischievous grin on her face, “Any particular boys?”

Their face flushed...it was no secret to any of them that they, simply put, were a bit smitten.

“Noooooo….?” They lied through their teeth, even if their goofy grin gave them away.

“Not even a particular luckster?” Celeste leaned in a bit, joining in on the teasing with her own little devilish grin, giggling quietly as the brunette interrogated squeaked shyly and hid their face in their hands, the image of the Ultimate in question immediately flooding their thoughts.

“Nooo!!!” They tried to protest, shaking their head rapidly. The group of girls giggled, Chihiro wrapping an arm around the brunette’s neck in an attempt to reassure them.

“You’re going to have to ask him out eventually, you know, before Sayaka beats you to it.” Asahina said with a cheeky grin. Their smile faltered slightly. 

“No, no. I shouldn’t meddle...I’d feel bad.”

“Even if he clearly has no romantic interest in her?” Celeste spoke up, red eyes widening a bit, “That is to say, I’ve only seen him so starstruck around you particularly, my dear.”

Ren’s face flushed even brighter, biting their lip shyly, “Noo, he definitely wouldn’t want someone like me…” Their self consciousness was starting to show, “I mean, I’m just a nosy empath with gender issues. Sayaka is...a literal popstar.” 

“And? Popstar or no, you still have something special about you that Naegi senses! Cmon, Ren, be a bit more confident in yourself!” Hina rebutted, determination glittering in her bright blue eyes before giggling and shoving a baked treat into her mouth.

“I-I’m plenty confident in myself!” ‘I...I think.’ They left that last bit out, looking away to bite their lip in uncertainty.

The rest of the girls shared a mutual doubtful, somewhat concerned look, before shaking their heads.

“Tell us that when you manage to ask Naegi out yourself, dear.” Celeste concluded, delicately eating at some sparse vegetables she had served herself, smiling sweetly towards her.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They huffed, blushing with a slight pout as they idly drank at the sugary drink that sat next to them. It tasted sweet, and reminded them of peaches… Peach soda. Huh.

Still, looking over to the tree next to them, they spotted Makoto amongst some of the guys- laughing alongside Ishimaru, Sayaka, Kyoko, and Yasuhiro...and found their heart sinking a bit in their chest.

‘He’d...never fall for someone like me. It’s not like I’m extraordinary or anything… I’m not like the rest of the Ultimates here.’ They thought to themselves, feeling their mood start to shift. However, the next moment, his eyes met theirs and he smiled, offering a shy wave- and they felt their heart start to race all over again.

‘...Still. I’ll...I’ll stay hopeful for it. It never hurts to dream, right?’

Slowly, the memory faded into nothing once more, and while they didn’t open their eyes again, they felt the sense of their surroundings return once again.

‘Hopes Peak Academy...I never expected I’d get in, especially while I was a runaway...but when I did, it changed my life. For the first time I had friends. I had people I cared about...but at the time, I was so wrapped up in my own trauma, in my own depression...I just didn’t notice. I thought I was alone..’ They thought to themselves, a curl of a small smile on their features, ‘...And my love for Makoto...it goes even beyond the Killing School Life...Gods, Hina isn’t going to let me live THAT down anytime soon if she remembers that.’

Still...there was something about knowing their classmates...truly KNOWING their classmates now, compared to back then...that hurt their heart even more.

‘...They all deserved so much better… None of them deserved to die. None of them deserved to be murdered...none of them deserved to suffer the way we all did. I hope they’re doing okay in the everafter…’ 

Still, as sweet as the memory was, they had to continue. They had to keep going down memory lane. And, it seemed everyone else agreed, as the electromagnetic humming started once again, filling their head with noise. This one felt more abrupt, more sharp, and suddenly they were groaning in pain a bit. Whatever was going on, it hurt...it actually really, really hurt-

“I-Is...is everything...okay??” They managed to open an eye slightly… Only to notice the panic in the technician’s faces. Was something going wrong??? Why did this hurt so badly and all of a sudden- it felt like their head might burst from the pain that came from the sound. 

...They had little time to ask, as within the next moment the world spun back into oblivion once again.

–☆–

“Soooooreeeen~!” 

A cheerful voice brought them to their senses, a thin thumb running over their cheek and wiping a tear from their eyes.

“Hey, are you listening to yourself?” Junko. One of Ren’s newer friends- though she’s been the most honest to them about everything going on.

“I-I ah….s-sorry. I guess I was rambling again, huh?” They looked over to her. They were sitting in an abandoned classroom, the blonde in question was sitting on one of the desks, looking down at them through empty, crystalline eyes.

“Yeah, you were totally out of it.” She chuckled, a smirk on her face, “I can’t believe how heartbroken you look, but honestly? It’s really cute.”

“Oh shutup-” They blushed a bit, looking away, “I-It’s...it’s nothing.”

“Oh really? Even though Makoto is going on what’s totally a date with Sayaka?” Junko leaned into their face, “It’s okay to feel that, y’know? It’s totally okay to let those feelings manifest into something quite...gorgeous. Wouldn’t you agree? It’s like you said, right?” “...There's beauty in everything. Even the worst bits of life…Even in the pain.” They repeated, another tear falling down their cheek.

“There we go… It’s really sad, how you’re literally the side character to your own life, you know? How often Asahina and the others just go off on their own without you?...Well, at least I’m here, you know?” Junko grinned a bit as they nodded, slowly.

“Yeah…”

“Junko...We do have a plan to discuss, you know…” A voice caught both of their attention, and looking towards the corner of the room, Mukuro Ikusaba. A sweet girl with dark black hair and another array of freckles. If they weren’t so bent out of shape with Makoto, honestly Mukuro was also very cute…

“Oh shutup!” Junko’s high pitch voice cut through their gay thoughts, quickly looking back to the blonde, “Anyway, let’s go over the plan I came up with! Alright?”

“Okay…” Mukuro nodded quietly, submitting to her sister’s behavior once again with a passive smile. This seemed to be quite the pattern with these two, and Ren wondered if all siblings acted like this...

“So, I heard some super super secret news about how this whole...event that happened at the school is only going to get worse,” Junko explained, “But with the rest of the outside world. We’re pretty sure that the school will lock up a bunch of us in here, and we want to make things that much more fun for everyone.”

“...Okay…?” Ren raised an eyebrow, concerned.

“We want you to be the one to get back at them.” 

“Huh?”

“You know!! Beat up everyone who keeps abandoning you! Your so called ‘friends’ and your ‘crush’ who abandon you when you need them the most? The ones who clearly couldn’t care less about you? Don’t you want to get back at them?” Junko leaned in towards Ren, who bit their lip, shaking their head.

“N-No...No of course not...I-I mean, they have lives of their own, they shouldn’t have to pay all their attention to me all the time…”

“Even when they clearly forget about you all the time? When you almost killed yourself at the end of last year?” Junko’s eyes stared into Ren’s soul, and they felt...almost violated by the eye contact.

“...E-even so...I-I wouldn’t hurt them…”

“So what are you gonna do? Turn tail and run back to Ireland? Back to your family?” They still don’t know HOW Junko found out about their past- as far as everyone else knew, they were just an Ireland transfer student.

“...N-No, of course not.”

“So, you’ll stay. And play our game.” Junko smiled, “Okay?”

“I…”

“I wouldn’t want something...devastating happening to your dear Naegi, would you?” Junko’s grin turned almost sadistic as she spoke, harshly grabbing their face, “So, you’ll play our game, right?”

Their heart stopped...if Makoto was going to put in danger.......no, they’d do anything in their power to make sure that happened, even if- for the time being- they had to play along.

“...Yes...yes of course.” They mumbled, cheeks squished.

“Good! Besides, it’s not like you’re killin’ em or anything! Not unless you wanna, then of course I’ve got your back on that!” Junko chuckled a bit, letting go of their face, watching as they rubbed their cheeks.

“I-I’d...I’d never kill anyone…”

“Oh dear, we’ll see.”

Junko got up from her seat, slowly approaching Ren and cornering them in their chair.

“J-Junko?...” Their eyes widened, “What are you doing?” 

“Hmm...I just want to show you something. Is that okay?” The blonde grinned, tilting their chin up, “After that, we can further discuss this prank of ours.”

“...N-Noo…?” They had a bad feeling about it, but Junko didn’t seem to listen. They quickly got up to leave, they suddenly didn’t feel safe in the room alone with her- but they felt their arm yanked back, and pinned back into the next desk. 

“J-Junko-!”

The blondes bright eyes appeared in their vision next, her grin a bit sharper than it probably should be.

“Mukuro, hold them down, I want to watch how they react to this video…”

...Something happened during that day. Something that...even to their mind's eye, was fuzzy. They remembered that they started crying again at one point, they remember they felt violated- but they didn’t know why. They don’t remember what happened. They don’t remember how they felt after- or if they even felt anything...But all they could recall after was a faint whisper of a voice, menacing yet dripping with faux sweetness.

“You’ll make them all pay for what they did to you, right?”

“Yes, Junko.”

…

“Junko?”

“Ohmygod- Yeeees?”

“...Let my memory get erased too. I promise I’ll still follow up on my deal. I...I’ll still have my anger, I’ll still have that aggression. I promise. Just...wipe my memory alongside everyone else. So I don’t spill our little secret. Okay?”

 “....Fine.”

–☆–

In that brief moment, they suddenly jolted upright- body trembling and a pained gasp leaving their lungs. They- they couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, and everything suddenly felt so loud-

The primary technician who ran the whole ordeal ran inside, quickly detaching the device and kneeling down in front of Ren.

“Soren?! Hey, can you hear me?!” No. No they couldn’t. All they could think about was how sick they felt, how suddenly suicidal they felt. Were they drowning? Why couldn’t they breathe?!

‘I agreed to hurt people for Junko...S-she manipulated me...she hurt me...to get me to play her game. To keep me from leaving before shit hit the fan...Fuck. Fuck, if I followed through on any of her ideas…To think I agreed to HER game- God I’m a fucking idiot!’ Their thoughts were running at a thousand miles an hour, struggling to breathe. Their hands were tugging desperately on their restraints, unsure if they wanted to hold their throat in attempts to try and breathe again, or if they wanted to claw at their arms until they bled.

They shook their head violently, and in the next moment- with little warning aside from their stomach doing a complete 180- doubled over in their chair and threw up right into their lap. The technician, alarmed, quickly rang up their psychologist who was a few floors down, to provide assistance. 

Everything in their vision swam. They conspired with Junko to hurt people. They conspired with Junko...they...they enabled the Killing Game before it even started.

They puked again. They felt like they might throw up their lungs next, at this rate.

Why were they alive? Why did they have to be the one alive?! They kept making one mistake after another- and this just proved it! This just proved how fucked up they were. How dangerous they were to others.

“Ren- Ren, tell me what you saw!” The technician grabbed their shoulders, trying to get them to focus. Their trashing just got worse. “No! No- No let go of me! Let go of me! I- I can’t breathe- oh my god what did I do!?” Their voice was hoarse from the acidic bile in their throat, struggling not to get sick even more. 

“What did you see?! What did you recall?!” The technician kept trying to talk to them, which only resulted in overwhelming them all the more. The last thing they can completely remember after abruptly waking up from their memory revitalization- was screaming at the top of their lungs. They just wanted to die- they didn’t deserve to live for working with Junko- for working with despair. Frankly, they wished they had died instead of recalling anything at all.

They…frankly don’t remember the next hour or so. They remember faces, eyes, voices speaking to them...a needle being put into their arm…

And soon, they calmed down a bit, feeling sluggish and heavy. Everything felt a bit fuzzy at the edges of their mind as the screaming- both physically and mentally- all but stopped.��

‘Sedatives,’ The thought connected briefly, before the word escaped them altogether in the cloud of drugs. Their psychologist helped them to their feet-- when did they get onto the floor of the laboratory?-- and out of the lab.

Being barely supported under their arm, they basically dragged their feet back to their shared apartment room within their sector’s building with Makoto. Their psychologist stuck by their side until they were able to walk easier, before heading off to schedule a few more appointments in the very near tomorrow. They had a feeling they’d be busy tomorrow, if they even had the energy to get up. 

They remember looking at the time...But they don’t remember what it was. Late, they figured. They stumbled inside, nearly falling on their face as they held their head, still trying to wrap their mind around everything they remembered.

The slight shifting from one of the rooms in the apartment got their attention though, and within another blink Makoto was at their side- helping them stand up a bit and trying to help them into bed. His mouth moved, and they acknowledged that he was saying something to them...but it took a few moments before anything he said actually was heard by them. When they were, they looked up a bit more at him, to which he sighed. 

“What happened?” He asked them, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Their eyes watered a bit, mumbling a quiet, ‘I’m so so sorry...I’m… I failed everyone here…’ 

“Failed? Ren?” He sat them down, clasping their hand, “You had the memory recovery procedure today right? What happened?”

“...I-I can’t...I can’t tell you.” They mumbled, eyes squeezed shut, “You’d hate me. Everyone would...I-I can’t… I can’t take it…” They shook their head, breathing starting to go shallow again as Makoto quickly waved his hands in mild panic.

“Hey, hey, calm down, calm down! It’s going to be okay. Y-you don’t need to talk about it right now, okay? Everything’s okay.” He reassured them, concerned and slightly panicked, “I could never hate you, Ren…” “...” They wanted to scream, they wanted to explain everything to those eyes, they wanted to prove him wrong. They wanted to prove that they should be hated, especially after what they’ve done...but they just felt too tired. They felt too scared...they felt too insecure to admit to it.

“Just rest for now, okay? I’ll bring you some water, and..” He noticed how stained their clothes were, and his nervous smile faltered, “And a change of clothes, apparently, yikes… Do you need anything else?”

“...Medication…” They mumbled quietly, tossing off their shirt and pants without much mind to it, “Please…”

“...Right, okay.” He faltered a bit and quickly looked away from their frame, getting back to his feet, “You rest up for a bit, and I’ll...I’ll get what you need, okay?”

“Okay…” “I love you…” ‘You wouldn’t if you knew what I did…’

Laying down, they felt their eyes flutter as the sedatives further kicked in, feeling their consciousness start to slip…

“I love you too.”

[semper-legens]

98. Mary Poppins Comes Back, by P L Travers

Owned?: Yes   Page count: 185 My summary: Mary Poppins returns to Cherry Tree Lane! Join her and the children as they go on another set of adventures - hear the story of the Dirty Rascal, meet a topsy-turvy man, and dance with the stars as Mary takes an Evening Out. My rating: 3/5   My commentary:  

Back to Mary Poppins, because I watched Mary Poppins Returns last weekend and, well, why not? I actually had a worse time with this one than the last, overall, though I attribute part of that to the fact that I had the first book as a kid, and didn’t have this one. Overall, it was much the same as the original, a loose collection of stories with the connection being recounting what happened when Mary visited the Banks children. There were a few key things I wanted to highlight, though.

For one, there were a lot of similarities to the first book, to the point that a fair amount of the stories were sequels to ones from there, thematically or literally. Robertson Ay’s Story, like the cow one, was Mary telling a story to the kids. The New One, where the newest Banks child is born, was very similar to John and Barbara’s Story from the original, except Annabelle as a newborn is forgetting the place where she was before birth. Topsy Turvy features them visiting a relative of Mary’s, like Laughing Gas, and Bad Wednesday, where Jane is stroppy, is almost identical to Bad Tuesday, where Michael is. None of this is, by necessity, bad - The New One ended up being one of my favourites, much like John and Barbara’s Story - but it did end up being a bit samey. I was struggling through some of it because the beats were so familiar to me.

So let’s talk about individual stories - specifically, Flying a Kite and Miss Andrew’s Lark. The former has Mary returning, the latter deals with Mr Banks’ horrible old nanny coming to stay with the family, and Mary getting rid of her. And really...Mary’s kind of a dick? In the first one I liked Mary because she had more of an edge than her film counterpart, she’s vain and self-centered and haughty and a bit up herself. But here, we have the entire Banks family being so sad that she’s gone, despite the fact that she’s nothing but rude to them when she’s there and gaslights the kids. Like, when Miss Andrews shows up, the only real difference between them is that Miss Andrews adds a bit of animal cruelty on top. I think this might be why I disliked Mary more in this one, the comparison just makes them look essentially the same. They’re both rude and unnecessarily mean!

The Evening Out ended up being one of my favourites in this one, much like its predecessor Full Moon. Mary goes for an Evening Out, and the kids follow her to a carnival put on by the starts. This is where the child logic/dream logic of some of these stories really shines, no pun intended. There’s some great imagery with the stars dancing with the kids, and some fun plays on the mythology of constellations. I really dug it!

Bad Wednesday is the other one that interested me - though I gotta admit, that’s likely because it’s the source material for my favourite sequence from the stage musical version of Mary Poppins. In it, Jane is having a bad tempered day, and ends up accidentally breaking a bowl on her mantelpiece. She is enticed into the bowl by the children painted on it, who try to trap her inside, except Mary Poppins saves her at the last minute. It stuck out to me because it’s a little edgier - Jane gets to be a stroppy little shit and is almost trapped forever. It was also more overtly moralistic than many other Mary Poppins stories? Most of these are just entertainment, they don’t really have so much of a message, but Bad Wednesday was more about how being destructive and selfish hurts you as much as others.

On the whole, bit samey, but still pretty fun. Still, I might wait a bit before tackling the next one.

[zdbztumble]

“Jewel of the Seven Pokemon!” Chapter III

As a huge fan of both Tim Burton and Sir Christopher Lee, writing from the POV of characters who weren’t impressed with their Pokeverse equivalents was quite the challenge.

Chapter I Chapter II

FF.Net

AO3

---

The drawing room set was perfect. Everything Misty had ever imagined while reading Jewel of the Seven Pokémon was here. The dark aquamarine walls with white molding and filigree, the silver-plated gaslights, the deep crimson velvet of the chairs and sofa, a fireplace so big it could fit a Blastoise; even the prop for the professor’s custom phonograph had the Aerodactyl teeth lining two sides. And with all the light and sound equipment gone, there was hardly anything that gave away this was a set; except for one camera in the corner, it seemed so real.

It all would have looked even more beautiful under the proper lighting, of course, instead of the harsh florescent work lights, but Misty loved it all the same. The one costume left on set – the heroine’s dressing gown, with colors and patterns inspired by Milotic – was so wonderful that the only way Misty could keep herself from trying it on was to link arms with Ash and make him look at everything too.

“We’re here to help save this movie, y’know,” he muttered; apparently, the fineness and shimmer of the gown’s silk didn’t mean anything to him. “And Cilan’s doing his interviews right now.”

“I’m listening!” Misty hissed. Was it so hard to believe a girl could multi-task? “Besides, that director’s not gonna have anything useful to say anyway.”

Will Hampton wasn’t what Misty expected of a film director. He was a short, spindly man, with black curly hair, black scraggly beard, black baggy suit, black-rimmed blue shades, and a sickly pallor. A real weirdo – that’s what he was. He also didn’t same capable of forming a complete sentence.

“But you really have no idea where the Cofagrigus were brought from?” Cilan asked him.

“Nah,” said Hampton. His hands never stopped moving when he talked. “The producers…from what their…I think they…wasn’t important.”

Cilan looked stumped by that answer, and Misty couldn’t make any sense of it either. But Hampton apparently knew what he was doing with movies; Sir Bela called him his favorite director. “Knows exactly what he wants,” he’d said, and he could somehow make out what exactly that was; he was the only one nodding along.

“Hmm…” Cilan started to pace, his magnifying glass held to his chin. “And you had no signs of trouble from them until the jewel appeared on set? They weren’t hostile to direction, in other words?”

Hampton shook his head. “Nah. They were…did the thing…yeah.”

“And what about Bisharp?” Cilan asked Sir Bela. “Was there any sign he might be under a definite influence – Hypnosis, perhaps, or Psychic? Or even an indication he might have had a problem with the production?”

“No, but it’s funny you should say that,” said Sir Bela. “Because Bisharp is quite attentive to my feelings on our films. And he has heard me, many times, say about the Blasko series – well, they made far too many of them, of course. And they did not use Hunter’s lines, they did not portray Hunter’s character, and –”

“Who’s Hunter?” asked Ash.

“Saul Hunter, Ash,” Misty groaned. “The author of Blasko – The Un-dead and Jewel of the Seven Pokémon.” Honestly, why did she have to go and like such an uncultured boy? It was exasperating.

Sir Bela went on without any mind to the interruption. “I do seem to recall saying to Bisharp on the plane that having a prince’s jewel instead of a princess’s worried me, that it was a sign of another poor script from Hunter’s work. All in jest, of course. Naturally, I’d already read the script – it’s superb. Superb. And given over to one of the great directors of our age.” He swept a hand to indicate Hampton, who giggled nervously and tugged at his hair. Misty shared a skeptical look with Ash.

“And you said that to Bisharp too?” asked Cilan.

“Of course.”

“Do you remember your exact words?”

“…I do, and now that you mention it – I never did say explicitly that I was joking on the plane. And between takes on the first day of filming, I may have said ‘I’ve never seen a director like this.’ Meant as a compliment, of course, but…”

“Are we getting somewhere with this?” Iris moaned. She was hanging upside-down from an empty line set by her legs, rocking impatiently. What a kid, Misty thought. Of course, from what Ash had said about Iris, Misty guessed she was thinking the same thing. What was it that made some people their age act so much more mature than they really were? And they never realize it, either…

“I think I know where you’re going with this, Cilan,” Misty said, drawing herself up tall. “Bisharp got the wrong idea from what Sir Bela said, and thought he wasn’t happy with this movie. And that’s why he’s disappeared – he didn’t want to be in a film he thought his Trainer didn’t like!”

“You think so?” said Ash, sounding impressed.

“Pika?” concurred Pikachu, still on Misty’s shoulder.

“Osha!” Oshawott, still in Misty’s right arm, clapped approvingly and nuzzled her shoulder with his cheeks.

Cilan, however, shook his head. “That doesn’t explain what’s happened here.”

“Huh? Why not?” Misty frowned. What else could he have been driving at, with those questions?

“Elementary, my dear Misty.” It was a standard line of the Mycroft Abode character; Misty suspected Cilan had been itching for an excuse to say it. “The unusual behavior started with the Cofagrigus, not Bisharp. And any misgivings Bisharp may have had about the production shouldn’t have mattered to the other Pokémon in the cast and crew. They may have made him more susceptible to whatever’s causing this mystery, but they don’t explain it.”

“Hmm…he’s right,” said Ash. Misty tightened her grip on his arm until he winced. “Whose side are you on anyway?” she hissed.

“That wouldn’t account for the missing equipment either,” said Cilan.

“Or the missing producers,” added Sir Bela. “They left for the front office after informing us about the suspension. I expected them back by now.”

“Well, that’s…I bet they…executives…lunch meeting…all day.” Hampton shrugged.

“…Yes. Er – are there any Pokémon left at all?” Cilan asked. “If so, they could have some insight. Ash’s Pikachu could question them and report – Ash is quite gifted at divining what Pikachu means.”

“Hey – yeah!” Ash said, with a snap of his fingers. It did seem like a good idea – not that Misty was about to admit it, after hers was shot down like that.

“There are no Pokémon left that were directly involved in the production, I’m afraid,” said Sir Bela. “None that I’m aware of, anyway. But I do have two more on me – they never took to filmmaking, but they travel with Bisharp and I and know him well. They haven’t been out since we’ve arrived here, but they may know something about his state of mind.” He reached into his jacket and drew out a Dusk Ball and a Luxury Ball. The Dusk Ball went out first, flashing as it opened to reveal –

“SHEDINJA!” Pikachu and Oshawott went flying. Iris and Cilan winced at the scream. Misty sprang onto Ash’s back, wrapped her arms and legs around him, and pulled and twisted until he was a complete shield between her and that horrible buggy ghost.

“Is there something wrong?” Sir Bela asked.

“Misty’s got – ack! – problems with Bug-types,” Ash wheezed. Pikachu moaned in agreement; he and Oshawott had landed in a pile on one of the chairs. Misty was about to apologize when the Shedinja floated closer. She tightened her grip and buried her head into Ash’s shoulder instead.

“Really now,” Cilan said crossly. “There’s no time for this. We have a mystery to solve, and there’s no need to be upset by a friendly Pokémon that means us no harm and –”

POP! Misty dared a look up to see what came out of the Luxury Ball. It wasn’t another bug, thankfully; it was actually kind of cute. A feline Pokémon, with a violet and cream coat and sleepy green eyes –

“PURRLOIN!” she heard Cilan shriek, and saw the green blur of his mad dash for cover behind the sofa.

***

This movie can’t be worth it, Iris thought. She ran her hands down her face and bit back a groan as the clock made one tick closer to a full hour since they’d come into this set. The time would be easier to take if anything were actually happening, but…

The first hang-up was that this Bela Christopher guy’s Purrloin was really offended by Cilan freaking out around it, and it took forever to convince it to help out. Then Purrloin and Shedinja had to go in the corner with Ash and Pikachu, a “safe” distance from Cilan and Misty. Cilan would shout his questions across the set, Pikachu would give them to the Pokémon, they would answer, and Ash would try and figure out from Pikachu what the answers were before shouting them back to Cilan. A process that had told them nothing so far, because Shedinja and Purrloin didn’t seem to know anything about why Bisharp would disappear. Not that we need it anyway, Iris thought. My sixth sense is going off like crazy in this place, but of course the Detective Connoisseur wouldn’t trust that…

Meanwhile, Iris was stuck with creepy Christopher and his fan club. The director just sat in his chair doodling, but Misty and Cilan were gathered around Mr. Christopher as he told story after story after story. Apparently, he remembered every second of his long film career, and had no problem talking about all of it.

“…I had no idea what it was going to look like. Had no idea! And of course, the effects were very primitive in those days. We had Scorbunnies casting Flamethrower at odd angles to create the animation of the shadows…”

They just went on and on, and he never let any interruptions get in the way. And Cilan and Misty were eating it all up! Sure, Cilan gave Ash a new question every few minutes, and Misty gushed over Oshawott now and then, but for the most part, they were completely under the guy’s spell.

“…nearly severed my finger clean off. It’s still bent out – you see, here. But that was the first sword fight I had in a film. There were many, many more. I think the most difficult one was…”

It was a weird combination of boring stories and creepy storyteller. Iris liked scary movies, but a guy who was in them all the time sent out bad vibes. And those eyes…Cilan told her once that red eyes were “fetching,” but to Iris, they were nothing but bad news.

“…and he finally said to me, ‘you’re too tall to ever be an actor.’ A ridiculous thing to say to somebody. Of course, this was near the end of the war, when I was stationed in Azure Bay. I’d been seconded to the Dragon Squad as a liaison, and –”

“‘Dragon Squad?’” Iris inched closer to Mr. Christopher’s chair. “What ‘Dragon Squad?’”

It was Cilan who answered. “It’s a famous unit of the Galar Air Force, Iris. They ride Dragon-types instead of planes and serve as a special attack squadron.”

“And you…you were in that?” Iris asked Mr. Christopher. And these two were asking you about movies!?

“Well, I was an officer in the GAF. I was attached to the Dragon Squad from time to time –”

“Axew! Axew!”

“Huh? What is it, Axew?” Iris asked. Axew’s head and arms were poking out of her hair. He pointed up towards the catwalks above them. With the work lights on, it was hard to make much out, but Iris saw it too – a big, boxy shadow in an open doorway.

“What is it?” Misty asked, but Iris didn’t answer. Instead, she ran over to the fly system, shimmied up one of the ropes, jumped onto a high line rail, and swung herself up onto the catwalk. Axew gave a little cheer, and Iris gave him a little pat on the head. Now about that shadow…

Shadows seemed to be all that was up here. The work lights were all hung below the catwalks, so only a little of their light came up from below. Everything was painted or plated black. But the doorway Iris and Axew saw was filled with a dim blue glow. Inside the room, a small square closet, was light after light after light – all turned off, along with microphones and boom poles and cables.

“Hey, guys!” Iris called over her shoulder. “I found the missing film equipment! It’s all – um, Axew? Do you hear that too?” Axew nodded and slunk down into Iris’s hair. It was a faint, muffled whirring sound, hard to place. There was something mechanical to it, and it seemed to be coming from more than one spot. It’s like it’s in the walls or something. I wonder if –

The boxy shadow reappeared on the wall; a few seconds later, its source materialized. Its four arms spread wide, its red eyes lit up below the mask on its forehead, and its gold and jade body took on a horrible shine in the blue light.

“AUGH! I found a Cofagrigus too!” Iris yelled. “And I don’t think it’s friendly!” As if to confirm that, the Cofagrigus reached out with two of its hands, blue and violet flames surrounding the long fingers. From the set below, Iris heard a crash, a shout, and a menacing cry of “Cofa!”

And there’s supposed to be seven of these things…great. Battling them would be much easier with help, if only she could get away. “Axew, Dragon Rage!” Her Pokémon popped out of her hair just long enough to fire the blast, which struck the Cofagrigus right between the eyes. As soon as it reeled back, Iris dashed for the exit. She jumped over the catwalk railing, grabbed at the closest rope, and slid all the way down to the set, just in time to see Purrloin, Shedinja, and Pikachu chasing another Cofagrigus out the open side door to the stage. Ash was sprawled out on the ground with his head and shoulders on Misty’s knees, inches away from the ruins of the sofa; it looked as though it had been flung at the ground, and Misty had pulled Ash out of the way. Mr. Christopher was leaning heavily on his cane, with Cilan at his elbow for support. And the director was still doodling, as if nothing had happened at all.

“Iris, what’s going on up there?” asked Cilan.

“It’s a Cofagrigus!” Iris pointed up toward the catwalk. “There! It – it just passed through the walls! I don’t know where it’s going, but it was guarding a closet with all the film equipment that’s gone missing.”

“The one down here just jumped us,” said Ash, with a slight tremor to his voice. “There was this sound – whhhrrrr – all over, and then – boo! – and – crash!”

“So you heard that noise too.” At least it had gone; the only sound left in the room was the director’s pen scratching on paper. Strange noises before ghost attacks…strange behavior and disappearances with no explanation…yep, my sixth sense doesn’t lie about things like this. Iris put a hand to her chin. “Well, you know what I think?”

Cilan scowled. “Iris, please. This is no time for superstitious –”

“I think there’s a curse going on here!” cried Misty. She stood up so fast that she knocked Ash off to the side.

“You what!?” Cilan and Iris gasped together – Cilan in horror, Iris in delight.

“Think about it,” said Misty. “This only started when those Cofagrigus saw that authentic jewel. Jewel of the Seven Pokémon was based on real legends; maybe jewels from that ancient civilization really can hold lost souls, and the one in the jewel Sir Bela brought is possessing the Cofagrigus and the other Pokémon on the set!”

“Exactly what I was thinking!” Iris hopped over to stand side by side with Misty. “I’ve had a premonition of something like this ever since we came in here! You know –” she leaned in closer to Misty – “you might just be alright, kid.”

“Well, I’m surprised at you, Misty,” Cilan tutted. “Any supernatural occurrence has a scientific explanation, and this is no exception. Surely you recall The Houndoom of Harkershire, where the haunted moor turns out to be just a thief and his Pokémon?” He nudged Mr. Christopher with his elbow and winked at him; it must have been another of his movies.

Misty scowled and put her hands on her hips. “Well, what about The Night Train to Snowpoint, when all the clues turned out to be wrong, and it really was a ghost channeling the Froslass?” She advanced on Cilan; Iris stayed back and slapped a hand over her face. Not another one of these…

“But you recall Mark of the Golbat, where the supernatural events were a tool of the investigation to wrest a confession from the murderer?” said Cilan, not backing down.

“And Kiss of the Golbat has the vampires use a ‘rational’ explanation to fool the heroes until it’s too late! I wish you could have played the head vampire in that film, Sir Bela…”

“Bah! You’re forgetting Galar after Midnight, where –”

“ENOUGH!” Iris shouted. “No more movie talk! We have two Cofagrigus to worry about, and one of them might still be in here!”

Pikachu and Mr. Christopher’s Pokémon came back over from the door. Pikachu hopped onto Ash’s knee and gave a few chirps and gestures. “The other one went to the stage next door,” Ash reported.

“The cave sets are in that stage,” said Mr. Christopher.

“Then it looks like we need to split up,” Iris declared. It was about time someone took charge. “Half of us will stay in here to try and find that Cofagrigus, and the other half will go next door. And I’m going with Ash and Mr. Christopher.”

“What?” Cilan and Misty looked like they’d both been slapped, but they were just going to have to deal with it.

“I told you,” Iris said, “I’m done with the movie talk! And I’m sure you’re driving Ash and this poor old guy nuts.”

“Now, really!” Mr. Christopher snapped.

“I don’t care, Iris…” Ash started; Iris silenced him with a wave. She linked arms with him, then with Mr. Christopher, and marched toward the side door.

“We’ll take the cave,” she said over Cilan and Misty’s sputtering. “You two and the director check out the rest of this place.” Of course, Iris was the one who had seen the Cofagrigus in this set, but she just wanted to get out for a while. It was hard to do, though, when her companions were resisting.

“I really must protest –”

“Iris, our Pokémon!” Ash dragged his feet so that Pikachu could catch up and jump onto his shoulder, and Mr. Christopher recalled his two Pokémon. But when Ash drew out Oshawott’s ball, the Water-type shook his head frantically and waddled over to Misty, latching onto her leg as hearts lit up his eyes again.

“…Fine,” Ash sighed. “But if she needs you to battle, you’d better do it.”

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?” said Misty.

“You’ll find out,” Iris snapped. “Now meet us outside in an hour!” She pushed her two partners ahead and started shoving them from the back to get them to the door faster.

“Young lady,” grumbled Mr. Christopher. “I do not need shielding from fan inquiries.”

“You don’t need to be nice about it, sir,” said Iris. “It’s got to be annoying, all those silly movie questions. Now – about that Dragon Squad…���

[themyskira]

The Life of Captain Marvel - issue #1

So here we are. Issue #1 of The Life of Captain Marvel, the miniseries that was touted as a bold new origin story that would change everything we thought we knew about Carol Danvers.

And it starts strong by exploiting family violence, trauma, mental illness and traumatic brain injury for melodramatic effect, with no intention of dealing with any of these complex themes in any depth or sensitivity.

For all that, infuriatingly little actually happens in this first issue. No exaggeration, the issue actually includes a stretch of nine months wherein Carol essentially does nothing except mope and grow her hair out. The dang plot doesn’t even arrive until the final seven pages.

Content warning: This issue begins with a flashback to Joe Danvers verbally abusing and hitting his kids. I haven’t included any images, but I talk at some length about Margaret Stohl’s abysmal handling of themes of abuse and family violence. Just a heads up.

The story opens on a flashback to an idyllic childhood holiday in Harpswell, Maine. There’s a montage of Carol and her brothers flying kites, wrestling each other, splashing in the water and stuffing their faces with candy, while adult Carol muses that she used to think her family was perfect.

Then the flashback takes a turn. One of Carol’s brothers rips the kite from her hand, tearing it. Their father, Joe, descends on the boys in a rage and begins verbally abusing and physically beating them as Carol looks on, because — surprise! — it’s Traumatic Past Retcon time!

Goodbye Joe Danvers, well-meaning but hard-headed dad who’s never understood his daughter and whose approval always seems to be out of reach. Hello Joe Danvers v. 2.0, scary unpredictable drunk who hit his kids and terrorised his entire family. Aren’t comics fun?

The flashbacks are interspersed with shots of Carol in the present day, where she’s battling supervillains Tanalth and Moonstone. As the flashback progresses, present-day Carol lashes out violently, alarming friends and foes alike.

“That’s why fighting’s easier than remembering. I tell myself that if I’m strong enough… I’ll beat the memories down so hard they’ll never come back.”

What’s strange to me about this page is the way it deliberately draws a parallel between Joe, snarling and raising his fist to strike his powerless young children, and Carol, snarling and raising her fist to strike down a powerful villain. By implication, it places Carol in the role of abuser, indicating an intergenerational cycle of violence.

Which of course is never explored or discussed beyond this, because Stohl doesn’t want to actually talk about the lasting impacts and terrible toll of family violence, she just wants to exploit it for THE DRAMAS.

As Joe whales on his sons, kid!Carol tries to run to their defence, only to be held back by mother Marie, who tells her, “You’ll just make it worse. Now’s not the time.”

We will be told numerous times over the course of this book what an incredible, loving mother Marie Danvers is, and how she’s prepared to sacrifice everything for Carol. Her actions, though? Her actions consistently portray a woman whose number one interest is in not creating more work or emotional angst for herself, even when it means hanging Carol out to dry.

This is not to say that Marie isn’t a victim as well in this scenario: though she never fears for her life or safety (she could pummel Joe into the ground without breaking a sweat), it could well be that constant gaslighting and emotional abuse have left her feeling unable to oppose her husband in anything.

It could well be, but that is nuance that Stohl is not interested in exploring, and all we get throughout this miniseries is Marie making excuses for Joe’s abusive behaviour and prioritising her own comfort over Carol’s emotional wellbeing and safety.

So anyway, flashback!Marie says “Now’s not the time”, and in the present day Carol shrieks “WHEN - IS - THE TIME?!” while damn near beating Moonstone into a pulp.

The other Avengers are disturbed by this.

Iron Man: Hey, Carol? Could you maybe leave a little something on the plate for… you know… bad guy jail? Black Panther: Would you call that rage… disproportionate?

hellooooo unfortunate paternalistic implications. A female superhero has a hysterical outburst on the battlefield, while her almost exclusively male colleagues look on in bewilderment. (‘This is why women can’t be superheroes, they’re too emotional!!!’)

Cap and T’Challa have to physically pull Carol off Moonstone, as Carol begins to hyperventilate.

Adding to our list of things that this series has zero interest in exploring:

What it’s like to experience a panic attack or traumatic flashback

What it’s like to live with an anxiety disorder

What it’s like to live with trauma

The Carol of this story is not a woman living with trauma and mental illness, she is a woman who swoons hysterically whenever the narrative starts drag a bit. Her panic attacks are purely a plot device used to ratchet up the dramatic tension at convenient moments, and it’s some of the most insensitive handling of mental illness I’ve seen in comics for a while.

Next comes the obligatory scene of Carol getting a full medical in Tony’s lab, only for Tony to throw his hands up and declare, ‘welp, there’s nothing physically wrong with you, are you sure there’s not something else going on????’. Because apparently neither Tony — who has personal experience with trauma — nor Steve — who lived through a FUCKING WAR — know PTSD when it’s punching them (well, Tanalth and Moonstone) in the face.

I mean REALLY.

Tony: Look, the breathing thing is probably some kinda nervous tic.

hi, hello, person with an anxiety disorder here, please do not tell somebody having a full-blown panic attack that it’s just a ‘nervous tic’, you absolute insensitive fuckstick.

Carol: [sigh] It’s… Father’s Day. Not my favourite day of the year, you know?

waitwaitwait, so CAROL recognised that she’d triggered and experienced a traumatic flashback, but for some reason decided to play dumb about it until she’d after she’d had a pointless medical examination??

Tony tells Carol she needs to get herself sorted out or else somebody is going to get hurt, so she goes to visit her mother and younger brother Joe Junior at the family’s holiday home in Maine.

Carol flies into town past a sign that reads, “Harpswell Sound / Summer Home of Captain Marvel” Carol: [narration] Oh, brother.

‘Oh, brother’ is right. I guess at least it isn’t as embarrassing as the time Stohl introduced a D-grade Captain Marvel TV series.

“Sugar’s Donuts / Official Donut of Captain Marvel”

hoookay yep that’s a bit much now.

At the donut shop, Carol runs into childhood friend Louis Lee, who’s grown into a Designated Love Interest with an obnoxious phonetically-spelled accent

“Better keep that to yah self, Ms. Danvers. Wouldn’t wantitah get out that yah cheatin’ on us…”

I despise him already.

Carol goes up to the house and hangs out with her mother and brother. Over dinner, Marie and JJ ask her why she’s dropped by so suddenly. Carol evades and JJ blows up at her because apparently he’s been holding in some anger about how he feels she abandoned the family and didn’t even bother to come home when their dad was terminally ill. (Which, hey, here’s another potentially rich thread to explore — PITY IT NEVER COMES UP BETWEEN THEM EVER AGAIN.)

Carol shoots back that he knows full well she was avoiding home because of their abusive father, only to be interrupted by the door slamming as their mother walks out.

…eeeeeexcept apparently that was an art mistake, because the very next page is Carol chasing after her brother, the one who actually stormed out. She finds him at their father’s grave, drinking booze.

He offers his recovering alcoholic sister the bottle, and when she lightly turns it down he gripes that she’d always thought she was better than everybody else and she should feel free to piss off any time now. Then he gets into his car and Carol lets him drive home drunk like the responsible person she is.

“Part of me knew I should go after Joe Jr. I mean, nobody in my family was any good with a bottle.”

WHAT IN THE HELL, CAROL.

But nah, see, she has more important things to do, like scream at her dead father and desecrate his headstone, because that’s sure not going to upset her family further, nope.

Her little tantrum is interrupted by the sound of tyres screeching and a car plunging off a bridge because YOU FUCKING MORON you stood there and watched your brother stagger drunk into his car and made the conscious decision that ‘nah, I’m gonna let this one play out’.

and ohohohohoho how ~poetic~! He crashed right through the ‘Summer Home of Captain Marvel’

god I hate everything in this comic.

JJ is rushed to hospital, where he is diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury, leaving him in a catatonic state.

And of course, Stohl’s Carol makes it all about her-fucking-self.

“In an instant, everything changes. You ruin someone’s life… it ruins yours right back. You’d give everything to have gone after him… and acted like the hero you’re supposed to be.”

Yes, JJ is in a coma with a traumatic brain injury, but let’s talk about how his near-fatal car accident ruined Carol’s life.

Anyway— NINE MONTHS LATER.

No, really.

We just skip over nine months.

Wherein apparently Carol has been doing nothing but poor-me-ing over her brother’s hospital bed.

Like.

She gave up her entire life and career.

Stopped saving the world.

Stopped interacting with everybody.

Just sat by JJ’s hospital bed looking melancholy and growing her hair out so that comic bros would stop complaining that she looked like a lesbian.

Tony tries texting her and she turns off her phone. So he appears beside her in an explosion of pixels.

which-- how?!?

There’s no visible technology at work here, nothing to indicate what’s projecting his image or enabling the two of them to communicate. Tony might as well be speaking to Carol via magic, for all we can tell.

Christ, it’s a superhero comic, it’s not like you have to work that hard to sell it to the reader. Two lines of dialogue: ‘What the actual hell, Tony?’ ‘Well, you wouldn’t return my calls, so I [insert technobabble here].’ That’s all you need. How lazy can you get?

Tony asks her to come back to the Avengers — we miss you, we need you, this isn’t good for you, etc. — and Carol’s like, ‘nah, I’m too busy wallowing in self-pity’.

And yes, like Carol’s PTSD and panic attacks, like the family violence, JJ’s brain injury exists solely here as a plot device. It’s not a disability he lives with or a trauma he survives, it’s a vehicle to bring melodrama to Carol’s story and a weakly-fabricated excuse for Carol to stay with the family and discover what she’s about to discover.

Because now it’s time to bring the still-catatonic JJ back home. And since the downstairs living room is more accessible than his upstairs bedroom, he’ll be taking the couch, where Carol has been crashing.

Yes, even though Carol has her own childhood bedroom in this house — we see it next issue — she has been couch-surfing for nine months.  But now that somebody else has claimed her spot, she’s got to move into… JJ’s bedroom.

So she goes up the room and rather rudely starts going through her catatonic brother’s wardrobe and pulling his clothes out to make room for her own shit. Again, I cannot stress enough that she had her own bedroom in this house. She’s just… weirdly choosing to impose on everybody else.

In the wardrobe, Carol finds a box belonging to her dead father. The box contains a love letter, in Joe’s handwriting, addressed to a woman who is not his wife — along with what is obviously a piece of alien technology.

This is a comic with a goddamn identity crisis. It keeps tossing out plot hooks, only to abandon them pages later in favour of the next shiny idea.

It begins by announcing, ‘This is a story about Carol returning home and confronting her childhood trauma.’ Then it abruptly swerves: ‘wait, scratch that, this is a story about Carol struggling to hold her fractured family together after her brother is hurt in an accident she had the power to prevent’, and then, ‘hold up hold up what we meant to say was, this is a story about Carol discovering a hidden truth about her family and parentage’.

It’s like Stohl doesn’t know editing exists. Because spoiler alert: this story is not about either of those first two things. The first fifteen pages of this issue are a dead fucking weight. They do not need to be there, and in fact a lot of problems could have been solved by cutting them.

Carol decides to spend some time with her family because she’s working through some personal shit, and discovers a letter hinting that her late father was leading a double life. That’s it; that’s the story.

All these convoluted logistics around who gets the couch and who gets the bedroom? Not necessary. Again, Carol has a bedroom in this house. Since she’s not around much, it makes sense that Marie might be using it as a general storage space. So: Carol is staying in her old room and has to shift a few boxes to make space. In the process, her dad’s shoebox gets knocked loose from whatever nook it was stuffed into. THERE. EASY. DONE. PLOT UNLOCKED.

Like, the car accident actually makes it harder to get Carol to that point. The only reason I can see for it being there at all is to force the passage of time so that Carol can grow her hair out and dudebros can stop complaining that she’s unattractive. Because I guess it just never occurred to anybody that they could draw her with long hair to start with?

But ‘oh no, the aliens and the superpowers I can accept, but in the last comic I read Carol had short hair and I AM SORRY BUT there is NO WAY human hair grows that fast, this is BEYOND THE PALE’.

Oh, and can we talk about how Carol’s response to finding OBVIOUS ALIEN TECHNOLOGY is to go, ‘huh, I wonder what this is, let’s see if I can open it by smashing it repeatedly with a hammer’??

Carol: Huh. Let’s see if we can open it. [starts bashing the device wildly] Gah! Why — won’t — you— Marie: [off-panel] Carol! Can you help me with Joe’s tube? Carol: [wandering off as the device activates] Coming, Ma!

And then IMMEDIATELY GETS DISTRACTED AND WANDERS THE FUCK OFF, failing to notice that the OBVIOUS ALIEN DEVICE has suddenly activated and is now beeping ominously????

So while Carol blunders around obliviously, the obvious alien device sends a signal to a galaxy far far away, which in turn activates what is seriously and embarrassingly called a Kree Kleaner. A small spherical vessel orbiting a distant planet lights up and begin speeding towards Earth, while inside some kind of Kree cyborg gestates and grows to maturity at a rapid rate.

Meanwhile Carol sits by the sea with Digital Tony and mopes that “I knew my family wasn’t perfect… but I thought love was”.

you.

you fucking.

Look, I recognise that trauma is complicated and that family shit is even more so.  I know people process and cope with things in different ways and at different speeds. And for Carol to suddenly discover that, on top of all the grief he was causing at home, her father was leading some kind of secret life with another women, must surely feel fucking horrible and bring up a lot of deeply painful memories.

But her reaction doesn’t gel with everything Stohl has told us about Carol’s relationship with her father.

We’ve been told that Joseph Danvers was a physically and verbally abusive alcoholic who terrorised his family to the point where, to this day, Carol struggles with PTSD and anxiety attacks. We’ve been told that Carol thinks of him as a mean, violent drunk who even in death haunts her family. She doesn’t understand why her mother stayed with him or why her brother still defends him, when all he ever did was make all of them feel small and powerless.

The idea that Carol would think all of this and yet still be totally blindsided to learn that Joe and Marie’s marriage was not a true-love-fairytale-romance is utterly, outrageously laughable.

Stohl presents the letter as bombshell that overturns everything Carol thought she knew about her family, indicating that Joe was leading a secret life she never knew about. It’s not. All it is is a confirmation of everything we’re told Carol already thinks about her father: that he was a cruel, self-absorbed bastard who treated his family like crap. You know what is a fucking bombshell?

The fact that Joe Danvers apparently had personal access to OBVIOUS ALIEN TECHNOLOGY.

AND AS FOR THIS LINE.

“And like they say, families were made to be broken.”

literally nobody says this.

I even checked, just to be fair to this comic, on the off-chance that it was in fact a thing.

One of the six search results is somebody on instagram quoting this comic. The other five are all related to the title of a single playlist on 8tracks.

But hey, like they say, Margaret Stohl is a fucking hack.

[head-hopping]

Years, part IX

What don’t talk to me okay. Previous chapters here. LOL

Madi don’t hate me anymore~

~~

Seven months later

The spring Carlotta arrived in Paris invariably altered to summer, then slipped quietly into fall. Her residency remained at the Mackintosh homestead, tucked securely within the guest room that at some point had gained a hint of her touch, the altered bedspread certainly not enough to claim a space, but she had become comfortable enough to make at least a little mark on her world.

It had taken time to reach that point, but even she took it as a step into the right direction.

That morning, after her arrival, had been a trying one. Carlotta could do nothing but thank whatever fortune she had left that Aisling actually approached her first, the young woman looking utterly contrite and ashamed for her lack of fortitude. That, naturally, stirred something within Carlotta, her own need to offer some measure of comfort, little though it had been. Though she held affection for her two nephews, Carlotta had actually tended Aisling after her birth, during the darkest hour of Colin and Erika’s then broken relationship. For Carlotta, those months with Aisling had been the only child-rearing she ever properly performed…

But that had not been the time for such thoughts.

“Aisling…” Carlotta had said, the weight on her unfeeling heart suddenly so heavy. She had taken the young woman’s hands in her own, squeezing tightly. “The only apology necessary is my own. I have…I have been tried, and there are many matters that came together to such a result.”

Aisling’s green eyes had expressed such trouble, looking between Carlotta’s own. “What matters could have brought about such a result?”

Carlotta had only smiled, as much as she could. “Matters that are of no consequence to a vibrant young lady as yourself. Do not carry them, Aisling. Please.”

“Alright…if you say so, Aunt Lotta.”

Though even then Carlotta could tell the cryptic nature of that conversation did not please Aisling at all, but nothing more of it need be said. Carlotta absolutely refused to pass that burden to the next generation, and if she could not have been rid of it with her own child, then she could certainly ensure Colin’s children never so much as heard a word of it.

Over the following weeks, Carlotta had been coaxed into the kitchen, as Erika was quite busy with nursing her youngest back to health. Carlotta found that she had not lost her touch for enjoyable meals, and the work with her hands became a means of forcing her mind off the past. Colin certainly appreciated it, as did Aisling and Elias, when the young man was around.

When Leonce finally awoke, Carlotta was finally able to meet him in more than just a few lines in an old letter. In fact, she took it upon herself to aid Erika now that the bearish mother could relax knowing her son would live through his ordeal. Through the nights, Carlotta would sit next to Leonce’s bed, quietly reading or stitching, fetching anything the boy needed if he woke in the night.

She could not help but notice, though, that Leonce was a bit younger than Lonzo, by more than a three years or so, and yet he’d gone off to join the navy, where he had earned wounds, and thus his illness that had not been fully taken care of by some mistake or another. He was a lively young man, though, even in his tired state. That smile no doubt looked quite fetching to all manner of young ladies, especially when in his uniform, even though he had been nothing but a cabin boy—or rather, in charge of the cabin boys, he made certain his aunt knew.

Perhaps it was the general atmosphere of the household that settled Carlotta in, or the sense of being useful that she in part craved, but a spark of her own life and livelihood budded tentatively within the Mackintosh household.

And during the summer, upon hearing of Carlotta’s residency in Paris, Fiona paid a surprise visit—though Carlotta suspected that Colin and Erika knew ahead of time. But to see her cousin flourishing with Thomas, her gentle nature actually nurtured and protected by a loving husband, this Carlotta nearly did not stand. And not in a negative, jealous, petty way—or so she told herself, but the emotion had been so fleeting that she could tell herself freely that it never happened at all—but seeing Fiona having bloomed into a beautiful wife and mother, it offered Carlotta yet another comfort to know that her family has escaped the hell that seemed to curse the DiRusso line.

Speaking of motherhood, though! Behind Thomas and Fiona trailed a sea of delicately redheaded children, six in all, all having come specifically for the purpose of meeting their aunt none have ever met.

It was…a bit overwhelming, to be perfectly honest, and the first night after their arrival, Carlotta wept quietly in her room, if only because it hurt to have the depth of her own heart touched back alive again. Like a jolt, a strike of lightning, Carlotta found it difficult to breathe, but her thanks for Fiona’s wonderful life could only be expressed with tears that no one saw.

Except, somehow, Erika saw. Somehow Erika saw a lot. Perhaps because such despair was familiar to the other woman. Except for a word, a gesture, in fresh cups of tea sitting on Carlotta’s nightstand before bed, the women tiptoed around one another, yet unable to break the strain of being strangers.

Carlotta had no intentions of going back to Italy, however, so they ought to have time for warming.

One sign of such? It arrived on Carlotta’s birthday, a day that has been of no real consequence to her for some years. A day that did not bother to remind of itself, save for the occasions when Carlotta happened to notice the date. But tonight upon her birthday, she found herself swept into an evening at the opera at the Palais Garnier. A place of beauty and talent, one once guided by her own hand.

As Carlotta ascended the steps, she gazed up at the face of the grand building, the gaslight lamps vividly illuminating the golden color in the evening darkness. Memory overtook her as soon as she stepped inside, of a lifetime ago while discussing business with patrons, dodging those who thought it their duty to run the little women, or at the very least run her off and give the managerial position back to a man. Late evenings of paperwork, or contending with the self-professed phantoms who at first cajoled to have their own way within these walls. One of whom married her cousin, and the other… Well, not even Erika was certain what might have happened to him. As her life pulled further and further from the opera house, so it did from him as well. However, Erika was almost certain that he discovered his own happiness, and with a dancer of all things.

In any case, as Carlotta approached the grand staircase, lit brightly for the evening event, she came to a stop in the middle of the noisy foyer, the slip of a smile somehow finding its way onto her expression. So much in her younger years revolved around this building…so much…

Her gaze dropped, turning to Erika, who stood close beside her, watching intently for any sign of another outburst of emotion. But Carlotta merely smiled a bit wider, reaching out to gently, and briefly, touch Erika’s arm.

“I am alright,” she assured the masked woman—a mask that blended into Erika’s skin color, helping her to blend without startle, as it was simply easier to venture out in this manner.

Erika smirked, a flicker of amused relief darting through her eyes. “Wonderful. I had hoped this would do you good, not harm.”

“Knowing that Elias will be playing this evening was more than enough incentive to chance the Garnier again.” Carlotta took a deep breath, seeming more at ease than she has in a long time. Edged, yes, and guarded, but willing to step out from behind those barricades more and more. Especially for tonight. “I must admit…I held some dread for stepping foot in here once more, but I am glad I did.”

Behind the pair of them, Colin slipped up, gently, and without thinking, touching both Erika and Carlotta at their backs, though his hand lingered only on Erika’s. His brows were raised as he leaned down a bit between them. “And how are we fairing this far?”

“Delightful,” Erika intoned with cheekiness. “But there is no need for both of us to hover like hens, Colin. You will suffocate Lotta and I.”

He scoffed. “Nonsense. I only wanted the privilege of escorting the two most lovely women here to our box. Ah—three,” he amended quickly as Aisling made some manner of strangled noise, appearing at his side and bumping into him.

“Da! Don’t be rude. Go on and say three. Aunt Lotta ought to be included in this lovely bunch.” And she grinned, winking at her aunt in a devilish manner that bespoke mightily of her mother.

“Oi, stop getting me into trouble!” Colin laughed, but sighed loudly. “Ach, it’s too late for that anyway. Shall we? Before I get let out into the cold?”

Twenty years ago doubtlessly Carlotta would have had a snappish remark without a thought, but now all she could muster was a closed smile, able to share in the amusement at least. Besides which, Erika’s comment sufficed, but Carlotta’s attention diverted suddenly as a slight chill touched her. She glanced back towards the front doors, suspecting that their loitering near the doors must have caught her in line with a gust of fall breeze floating inside. And that may have been part of the case, save for the thick shawl draped over her shoulders that had been more than adequate outside, let alone inside the warmed building.

Before she turned back to her family, however, she caught sight of someone peering in her direction as he stood closer to the opening and closing doors. Carlotta would have passed the man by, but the second jolt, this one accompanied by a surge of recognition, stole her breath.

Salvatore Barozzi, hand balanced perfectly on his cane, hat in hand, stared with naked shock in his expression as other patrons were forced to move around him in order to get inside. The looks they shot he obviously did not see, or even feel.

Not that Carlotta did much better. Colin and the rest might have left her behind, as she did not hear or see whether they called her.

What sort of alignment must have occurred to have them standing here tonight of all nights, in Paris, at the Garnier?

[windandwater]

I’m done with War And Peace, and I enjoyed it very much, but there is a part where he lost me, not just a little bit but completely fucking lost me to the point where....well. Let’s talk about it.

Warnings for discussion of abuse/cycles of abuse, purity culture, the patriarchy, and other ways that women get fucked over by society. Also massive spoilers.

Here’s the section, this is from the Pevear/Volokhonsky translation, the Epilogue, Part 1 Chapter 10, bolded emphasis mine:

Discussions and arguments about women’s rights, about the relations between spouses, about their freedom and rights, though they had not yet been called “questions,” as they are now, were the same then as they are now; but these questions not only did not interest Natasha, but she decidedly did not understand them.

These questions, then as now, existed only for those people who see in marriage nothing but the pleasure the spouses get from each other, that is, nothing but the beginnings of marriage, and not its whole significance, which consists in the family.

These arguments and present-day questions, similar to the question of how to get as much pleasure as possible from a dinner, did not exist then, as they do not exist now, for people for whom the purpose of a dinner is nourishment and the purpose of marriage is the family.

If the purpose of a dinner is to nourish the body, then someone who suddenly eats two dinners will perhaps achieve greater pleasure, but will not achieve his purpose, because his stomach will not digest two dinners.

If the purpose of marriage is the family, then someone who wishes to have many wives or husbands will perhaps get much pleasure, but in any case will have no family.

If the purpose of a dinner is nourishment, and the purpose of marriage is the family, then the whole question is solved simply by not eating more than the stomach can digest and not having more wives and husbands than are needed for a family, that is, one of each. Natasha needed a husband. A husband was given her. And the husband gave her a family. And not only did she see no need for another, better husband, but, as all her inner forces were directed at serving this husband and family, she could not even imagine and saw no interest in imagining how it would be if it were different.

I need a minute for how much I could not fucking comprehend how on earth Tolstoy drew the conclusion in bold.

Women’s rights and equality of spouses is only important to people who aren’t invested in their families???????

WHAT???

Here’s the thing. If this was a run-of-the-mill garden variety dudebro writer, I would be extremely irritated but not surprised, and write the book off as an overrated garbage fire, the end.

That’s not what happened. Let’s take this character by character.

First of all, Princess Marya. Marya starts out the novel with an emotionally manipulative and abusive dad. He controls her life completely, to the point of reading her letters, screaming at her and terrifying her so much that she’s totally paralyzed in his presence and then yelling at her for being stupid, guilt tripping her every time a man so much as looks at her, taking advantage of her, blaming her for shit that’s his fault, gaslighting her, the whole terrible, horrifying nine yards.

Her only way out of this situation is to get married, which she can’t do because he keeps driving suitors away. Unless he dies, which he eventually does, and let’s hope a good man scoops her up at that point.

(Lucky for her, one does. The key word there is lucky. I’ll get back to that.)

Meanwhile, the cycle of abuse is already in play. She has trouble raising her nephew because her only instincts are the ones her dad instilled in her, and she finds herself yelling at him for the same reasons her dad yelled at her.

And then dad kicks the bucket, and she gets married to Nikolai, but Tolstoy is good at what he does, because even then you can see her trauma. She freaks the fuck out every time she sees her husband get mad at someone else. When she senses her husband is in a bad mood, she blames herself and spirals into guilt and terror when he brushes her off won’t talk to her about it.

But Nikolai is a good guy. He makes a massive effort to control his temper for her sake, manages to talk to her and make sure she knows his bad mood isn’t her fault, is very sweet to her when he finds (and she agrees to let him read) her diary that’s all about raising her kids. He not only loves her, he appreciates her, respects her work, supports her.

Lucky thing he came along, huh? What would have happened if he didn’t, Tolstoy? What would have happened if Marya had been taken advantage of by another abusive shitty man, as so often happens to women in her situation?

What would have happened, if, in Tolstoy’s framing of the situation, Marya had been invested in her family but her husband wasn’t? She has no rights, no recourse. Nothing. What would have happened to her?

Next, Natasha. Natasha got engaged to Andrei at sixteen, he went away for two years at the insistence of his shitty dad (also Marya’s dad) who didn’t like her. So she was engaged but not allowed to see her fiancee. She meets her fiancee’s family in Moscow and they treat her like garbage, she’s sixteen and not used to people being assholes to her for no reason.

In swoops Anatole, a major hottie who happens to be SECRETLY MARRIED. He takes advantage of her vulnerability, tells her how great he is, pretends to love her, pretends he’s going to marry her, is all set to sweep her off to a fake marriage just so they can bang, when luckily (there’s that word again) Sonya finds out what’s going on and tells on her so it can be prevented.

So Natasha is saved from being “ruined,” but her marriage to Andrei is impossible.

Later on in the novel they make up, Natasha and Marya also make up, Natasha marries someone else (Pierre) and has a family. At which point she promptly stops giving a fuck what anyone thinks about her, because she’s so invested in said family.

I have no problem with that. If that’s what she wants and she’s able to get it, great. Go for it. And Tolstoy’s descriptions of how these couples are super in sync is kind of sweet, though I could do without the “her will was completely subsumed to his” bullshit.

Here’s the question though: what if she hadn’t been “saved?” What if Anatole had gotten away with it? What if her future had been completely ruined by one jerk who preyed on her youth and vulnerability? What if she had fallen victim completely to the man who wasn’t invested in a happy future for her?

Lastly, Sonya. Sonya is Nikolai and Natasha’s cousin and she’s suuuper in love with Nikolai. Unfortunately she’s also an orphan with no money and the Rostov’s (that’s the family) are short on cash and in a lot of debt. Nikolai can’t marry her.

Sonya knows Natasha will be furious if she tells the family about Anatole, but she does it anyway because it’s the right thing to do.

Later on, Nikolai falls more deeply in love with Marya but is torn because he really did mean to marry Sonya despite what his family wanted. Sonya lets him off the hook, but only because Natasha and Andrei have reconciled (Andrei is Marya’s brother) and if they get married, Nikolai can’t marry Marya.

(because marrying your cousin isn’t incest, but marrying your sister-in-law is. okay.)

Then Andrei dies. Womp, Nikolai can marry Marya after all.

And that’s it. She’s screwed. She doesn’t marry someone else. Pierre, Natasha, Nikolai, and Marya all live together, and Sonya lives with them and helps raise the kids. Everyone feels sorry for her and knows they’re taking advantage of her, but there’s nothing they can do to change it.

Sonya didn’t get lucky.

So there it is, Tolstoy. You wrote this. You did this to your characters, you showed these women struggling because of what bad men did to them, and then your solution was that they found good men and everything worked out. Except for one of them, whose fate was to be second-best for entire life.

And then you had the audacity to pretend that Natasha not understanding the point of women’s suffrage is a sign of happiness and fulfillment, not utter blindness and insensitivity.

You had the audacity to try to tell me that questions of women’s freedom and rights only come from people who aren’t invested in their families.

Yes? And when do men get punished for this lack of investment? When do men suffer because they made women suffer? Where in your story did they feel the consequences of their actions, because of their actions?

And what if, Tolstoy, just as an exercise, what if your women had autonomy? What if Marya could leave and be her own person separate from her father? Maybe she wouldn’t have done it, it’s still a hard thing to do even when you’re not technically your father’s property, but what if that was possible? What if Natasha could have continued to have a life and boyfriends and a future even if she did sleep with someone who wasn’t her (absent) fiancee? What if Sonya had options available to her that weren’t “marriage” or “stick around raising other people’s kids?”

And what if they hadn’t found good men? Do they deserve to have horrible lives forever just because a good man never came around? Would they not be invested enough if they were the ones doing all the work and their husbands treated them like garbage?

Maybe Natasha would have screwed herself over some other way, maybe Sonya would still be a doormat her whole life. These things happen, this is life.

But how dare you tell me that these characters wouldn’t understand the need for women’s rights. How dare you reduce the question so insultingly. You know better, I know you know better. I read your entire goddamn book. Quit talking and listen to yourself for ten damn minutes and think about what you just said.

And if there’s an afterlife and I find you in it, know that you are now on my list, along with Herman fucking Melville, of authors I am going to scream at. Consider your ass warned.

(Note: I am not going to spread the “I know it was a different time and people thought differently” disclaimer throughout this post. I know, okay? I know. I’m furious because he got so close, not ~~for someone of his time~~, but as a human and an observer of humanity and how it works. He wasn’t perfect and there’s plenty of other ~~for the time this was normal~~ bullshit that stings and will always sting. But he did so well despite those limitations. And then he fell short. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t waiting for the blow, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. So I’m not going to waste any more energy on that argument.)