#swap two variable without using third variable

GAME ENGINE MIGRATION HELL…OR NOT?

Overall, the migration is going fairly smoothly! Godot has pretty robust C# support at the moment, so I was able to migrate/translate a fair amount of my basic C# codebase from Unity to Godot without issues. Visual novels are pretty lightweight games, so apart from some issues with mobile builds, I think it will go well, and I will continue working with Godot for the time being.

After I spent a few days experimenting with the systems, I programmed in my story parsing logic and finished a basic game loop. Currently, the text handling is complete, with all of the functions that I initially coded in (branching paths, nested choices, conditionals, etc.) Auto and fast forward are also functional, and I also worked in the saving/loading. In addition, I added a few additional functions: sections (the ability to parse the same text file into different scenes), checkpoints (the ability to easily navigate back to a specific line), and "unsticky choices" (the ability to make choices "disappear" if you've seen them once).

I also programmed in a NVL mode. For anyone that's not familiar with VN lingo, the standard format of sprites on top with the text box below is called "ADV" mode, whereas "NVL" mode features text overlaying the entire screen (usually with some kind of darkened background for visibility - like above). NVL mode is less common in VNs nowadays, but it's useful for long monologues or narration (whereas ADV is best for dialogues). I also coded in the ability to swap freely between NVL and ADV mode.

In addition, I implemented customizable text. Basically this is text that can be adapted based on user input. For anyone who has played games with customizable protagonists, this is useful for adding things such as pronouns.

I also worked on a few simple "polish/quality of life functions" (that existed in my Unity build, but required new code and a bit of fenegling to work in Godot):

-A typewriting effect so that text fades in instead of being shown all at once.

-Text boxes that dynamically size based on the text inside.

-Making buttons scale as you hover over them.

I also designed some new basic GUI. While I'm not sure I'll actually use this GUI unaltered in any game, this is a good "base framework" with all the necessary elements.

The updated save screen now has 100 save slots (I'll see how large the save files get and adjust accordingly), and it saves a screenshot of the current game screen in addition to the current line. (I was pretty proud of myself for this one!)

Lastly, I started working on a rollback function. If you're familiar with Ren'py games, you know that when you scroll up on the mousewheel, it basically "reverses" the game so that you can easily go back and reread text or play different choices. I didn't implement this when I first made my framework in Unity because it is a bit complex; there are a lot of variables and edge cases that you need to take into account, and it basically requires me to "double" the amount of code, as I need to account for both a story running forwards and a story running in reverse.

Since I'm basically rebuilding my framework from the ground up, I thought it would be a good opportunity to try to implement a rollback, as I can code it in pieces as the codebase is being built. Currently, rollback is functional!

EVERYTHING THAT'S NOT CODING HELL

My focus this month was The Deepwater Witch! The sprites for the leads are fully rendered, with two variations for each, and now they just need to be animated. Around a third of the CGs have been storyboarded, and I also took reference photos for the backgrounds. The script is up to 26,281 words.

I also worked a bit on character designs for Hanasu, the Karamu sequel.

PLANS FOR THIS MONTH

For coding, I will start implementing basic visuals - sprites, CGs, and backgrounds - before moving on to audio, visual effects, and other advanced visuals (animated panels, etc.)

For everything else, since Once Upon a Time VN Jam has officially started, I will continue focusing on The Deepwater Witch until the first draft of the script is complete, and all of the CGs and BGs have been storyboarded. After that, I will start working on my other projects with less immediate deadlines.

variable stars.

mary alice brandon. 

What did you think would happen?

The panic is an animal scrambling to get out, pushing against her chest and her throat. She tries not to cry, but she’s shaking and she’s heard the screams that comes out of the room at the end of the hall. 

Her face aches, where the orderly hit her to get her to move faster. She’s ice cold - it might be winter, she’s lost track of time - but other than the ugly brown sweater she’s been given, the one that hangs to her knees because nothing fits her right.

“Please,” she asks in a thin voice. When she was little, she had had a lisp. Her mother had called it ‘darling’, but her father wanted her to speak properly. And when she couldn’t, it was better she stayed quiet. She out-grew it eventually, but sometimes, when she’s tired or frightened, she can hear the ghost of it - another part of her old self that haunts her. 

(She remembers her mama wasting away, lying on the chaise in the sitting room, looking like she was fading away. She’d sing and cuddle the new baby, but Mary Alice got a kiss on the forehead and an apology, “I’m so sorry, my darling. I’m so, so sorry.” She used to think that the apology was for dying and leaving Alice alone without a mother. She knows better now.)

They march her into the room, badly lit and tiny. She is stripped of her sweater and helped roughly onto the bed, with the tight sheet and the rubber rest for her head. The doctor looks at her like a dead thing, and her breathing speeds up. She tries to twist the hem of her clothing in her hands but they are quickly pinned and strapped to the bed, her ankles too (the straps are loose, she’s too small for this bed). 

A hunk of greasy rubber is shoved into her mouth so far she nearly chokes; the taste of it is rancid and nausea swirls as she feels the indentations of other teeth, other mouths. She feels like she’s going to faint, everything is so blurry. But there’s a slap to her face and something is fitted around her head and no one has spoken to her, acknowledged her or explained. 

She’s never been so frightened in her life. She’s shaking and the nurse stares down at her with a bored expression on her face, and there’s three blood drops on the woman’s uniform. 

One, two, three. 

And Mary-Alice Brandon screams. 

—

(She was thirteen years old. A ward of the state. A hopeless case. The perfect little guinea pig for the experimental new treatment. Much more efficient than chasing a screaming child around, to force the Metrazol down her throat.)

(They should have waited until she was older, of course. But the doctor’s ego and arrogance were too much, made him too impatient to wait. It wasn’t so much that the future changed - it did, of course - but that the girl who was little Mary-Alice was altered, irreversibly and forever. And that made all the difference.)

—

Three. Three becomes her number. 

It took three men to drag her from home in the dead of night (one broke her arm. How pleased her father must have been that they were in such a large house where there were no close neighbours to hear her screams.) 

She was thirteen - one-three - when they first push electricity into her poor brain. (Unlucky Mary-Alice.)

She gets three shots, morning and night, bruises blooming like ink in water. (They made her head swim and the world soft. They make her stomach twist and her bones ache. They make her words slow and run together. They steal all of her away.)

She has three different orderlies - the one that twitches and is cold as ice (he doesn’t hit her); the one that calls her names and threatens her (he hits and slaps and pushes her); and the one that comes in to her cell at night (he touches her too much, and is always the one that takes her to the bath.) 

Three times a week, she’s marched to the door at the end of the hall and they hook her into the machine and they look at her like she’s something wrong and foul. (She screams and cries and vomits and wets herself. She breaks an ankle because the loops are too loose and she thrashes. They were never fitted to hold a child down.) 

She starts looking for threes. She’s broken two bones, she needs to break another. She sees two doctors who shake their heads and write down notes, and she wonders when they’ll bring in a third. She counts the bites of her food to keep them down, curdled and sour in her belly. She counts her steps everywhere she goes, counts the slaps and pinches and shoves they give her. 

Three, three, three. 

—

The fizz and pop of the machine steals things. It takes her awhile to realise that. At first, it was just time; hours vanish like smoke. Then it was words - she stammers and mumbles and slurs. Then it was memories, what happened before the room.

Then it’s her family, her mother’s face vanishing and her sister’s laughter fading. 

(Someone said sorry to her a long time ago. It doesn’t soothe the hurt.)

Then it’s her full name. Mary-Alice Brandon. Mary-Alice.

Mary. 

Alice. 

(She doesn’t answer to Alice, only to Mary.) 

Then it’s her vision. It goes blurry and dark around the edges, and even when she wakes up in her cot, it doesn’t go away. When she tells someone, they huff and shrug and dismiss it - it stops the pictures in her brain so it is worth giving up her sight. 

They call her schizophrenic, a word that sounds like static, and a lot of other things. She hasn’t mentioned the visions in a long time; what good are they when she is locked up in cell? When she is convulsing in pain and forgetting everything she ever loved, and shivering in the dark? 

(She learns to live without her sight. She relies on her visions sometimes, but mostly, herself. Fingers tracing walls, feet gingerly testing out uneven floor. They let her stumble, and mutter about her blank, cloudy stare. A doctor does examine her eyes, but there is nothing to be done. Perhaps they can prevent this happening to another patient, but for Mary-Alice Brandon, it’s just unfortunate.)

It steals everything except fear. It feeds the fear well, and she knows she’s going to die in this place, hollowed out so that the fear can fill her up. She can see the graves from the window of the laundry, where other patients have died. She has no illusions; those are the dead from the other wards. People who might have gotten to go home again, people who get to eat in a dining room, and take pills instead of shots, who knit for the soldiers and write letters to their loved ones.  

People from the basement ward go on to their next life via the boiler room. She knows the stench of that intimately. 

(Three people come to the hospital one day - a man, a woman, and a child; the day between her sessions. They are very important because she gets an extra bath and clean clothes, and the orderly brings her in a wheelchair. She cannot see them properly, just shadows and shapes in her gaze. The doctor makes them sit behind her as she answers questions and gives her puzzles to solve. She doesn’t know much, and she can’t get her hands to move properly or stop shaking. The man behind her keeps telling the doctor how ‘good’ it is, and she has a grim feeling her failure pleases him.) 

(She’s going to die here, and end up being swept away with a broom.)

—

Three years. 

It takes three years for them to break her, to curdle the fear in her heart to rage. To let hate swell in her heart. She fights back sometimes, learns to bite and scratch. 

(They break her other arm, and there’s the third broken bone. That’s just fine with her, the heavy plaster cast makes a lovely noise against the face of the orderly who won’t stop touching her.) 

She spits and swears and tells everyone the truth. A husband will die, a wife will run away. A child will drown. Debt, loss, prison, she spits her fortunes out with relish, and there are more shots and more slaps, but she doesn’t care.

(She fights like a feral cat when they take her to the room now, fights away from the pain of the device lighting up her brain. It can do nothing more for her, she knows that, than it already has and now they are just using it to cook her brain a little more, until she is soft and pliable like their other victims. She won’t go down like that, won’t let them make her into those people. She gets a few good hits in, and she’s sure they make the machine hurt her worse.)

The cold orderly is the only one who can manage her these days, and she is grateful when she becomes his problem. No more touching, no more hitting. He talks to her in a low, calm voice - “I cannot stop them or any of this yet, little one. But I can try to stop the worst of it.”

She lets him help. She is quiet and docile when he escorts her places. She takes her medications and does as she’s bid and it works, a little. She cannot escape the room at the end of the hallway, cannot stop all the slaps, but some of her bruises get to heal. 

(When the cold sets in, he brings her clothes warm from the laundry; he smuggles her mugs of weak tea in tin cups, and swaps rancid porridge for an extra bit of stale bread on her tray. He lies to the doctors that she was ill, and unfit for her ice bath. He makes things a little better for her. In her dreams, she thinks about him falling in love with her, taking her away and marrying her. She doesn’t love him, but she sees her freedom in his kindness, and there are far worse ways to live than quietly married to such a man. If she ever had dreams for her life, the machine has eaten them all away and that’s comforting, because she would hate to realise how far she’s fallen.)

The shock therapy still demands its pound of flesh, and her memory gets worse. He writes her name in big black letters on the wall next to her pillow, but she certainly cannot see it to read it. So he carefully chips it into the wall, where her fingers can feel out the letters.

Mary-Alice. Mary-Alice. She is Mary-Alice.

(Sometimes he reads her things from her file. She’s sixteen years old. She’s from Biloxi, Mississippi. She is a ward of the state with no family - her surname is redacted in the earliest papers, and she is referred to as Miss Smith in all the later ones. She became blind when she was fourteen and a half. She is in the hospital for a laundry list of conditions that are, according to her doctors, incurable. 

She has been here since she was twelve.)

The rage finds a good home inside of her. It wraps around the grief and fear, and it is comforting in a new way. It lays roots to remake her into something else, something she might be, could be. Nothing better nor worse.

Just different.

—

It all goes wrong on a Wednesday. She knows it is a Wednesday because it is a treatment day. It is also bath day, and the day the priest comes round to pray at their doors, too cowardly to venture closer to the insane, the stricken as if they are contagious or tainted, somehow. 

(There are few in the basement that are truly terrible. They struggle and fight because of their fear of the pain, of the suffering, not for any other reason. Most of the patients are soft and dull, drugged and crippled into quiet obedience. There is no reason to fear them, truly. They’re all half-dead, anyway.)

It’s also a dreadful day because her orderly is not here, and they’ve been forced to deal with her alone. Her head rings from the hits she took, her shoulder aching. Her throat is sore and her stomach is churning and she is sick of hearing how God will forgive her and welcome her into His house. She has done nothing that requires forgiveness, her orderly assured her of that.

(She cannot remember his name, no matter how many times he tells her. He tells her it is okay. She will remember one day.)

“Shut up!” she finally screams at the priest, who is hidden in the hallway with his Bible and his sermon. “There is no God!” She means to say ‘here’, in this place, where an orderly held her under the water of her bath this morning to punish her, as she thrashed and struggled. Her chest still aches and she wishes she had drowned. She screams it over and over again, hot tears on her cheeks as her brain and mouth stutter and struggle to get the words out as she means them. 

“God is dead (here)!”

“G-God is dead!”

“God dead!”

She can’t get it right, can’t untangle her words and thoughts to make sense and the frustration and weakness makes her cry harder, makes the words harder. 

It’s the wrong thing to say anyhow, because then another orderly comes, and the priest is yelling at her, condemning her and then there are two nurses and a doctor and she gets to go to her standing appointment early because she’s behaving so badly, her arms bent behind her so she has to hunch over. The priest makes the sign of the cross over her and she spits and screams when one of the nurses slaps her.

(God is dead and so is logic. She never understood why they bathed her before they shocked her; she almost always wets herself, bites through her lip, or gets a nose bleed. She is always a reeking mess afterwards, and they act like they haven’t set her up for failure.) 

She’s hurled on the bed, and held down, and the doctor holds her jaw so tight she knows there will be finger prints on her cheeks. 

“We may have to increase your treatments, Mary, if you do not remember your manners,” he says, a cool and arrogant voice washing over her - he is just a wobbly shadow in her corrupted gaze. 

She manages to spit on him, sort of, and he slaps her too, and jams the rubber mouth guard into her mouth, holding it there and forcing her to choke. She writhes and kicks and no one has tied her down yet. 

They manage to restrain her, and she can feel the doctor’s pleasure as he pulls the lever and the pain…

… it is a wild thing, roaring through her like a fire. It burns like a fire too, and sinks into her brain, her bones, her mind and soul. It cripples her and changes her. It rattles around in her and all she can think is that one day she will hurt this doctor, hurt these people just as bad. She will burn the doctor to blistered flesh, to ragged charcoal, to see how fair and fine such treatment is. She has survived so long with this experimental treatment, with having different voltages, different wires and placements and techniques, without any gratitude or assurance. 

Just the never-ending rolling pain and fear. 

(And she opens her arms and her heart to that anger, that righteous fury, the power, and the creeping fear. It nestles deep and close, finally and indelibly rewrites Mary-Alice and what she will become.)

—

Her speech is nearly gone after. She slurs and mumbles and doesn’t get up off of her cot. It’s over for her, the last flicker of herself realises. They move her around like a marionette; she is just a bunch of loose limbs and dead eyes. They stick her with needles and smile at her, satisfied that she’s finally broken and docile. 

(One step closer to the boiler in the basement.)

They watch her body arch in pain at the shock of an ice bath, watch her twitch and shake with another seizure, ones that have made her their home over the last few years. But these are getting worse, and sometimes there are only minutes before the next one wracks through her. 

(They hurt her, make her body ache worse and her mouth taste like blood.)

Her cold orderly has returned, and he is still kind. He keeps her clean and warm, patiently feeds her dainty bites of inedible food. He talks to her and comforts her. When he thinks she is asleep, he tells her how unforgivable the state in which she lives is; that this was cruel and pointless, and she deserves so much better, so much more. He tells her of gardens and oceans, castles and beaches. He brings a flower, a leaf, some slightly greasy sheep’s wool that he guides her hands over so that she can remember good things. 

(She dreams of a boy offering her a flower; it’s white.)

It’s only after she dreams of the man with the red eyes that she tries to talk again. She sees the man with ruby eyes, his mouth smeared scarlet. She hears screaming, desperate screaming and babbling, and then nothing. She sees her own body, her throat torn to meat, laid out in the surgical room in front of frowning doctors. They mutter and murmur and try to translate the mess of her throat, her broken legs, her cracked and torn nails, the three broken vertebrae. 

Her nudity upon her discovery. 

(Of course, it’s easy to say that the girl was insane, escaping and discarding her clothing getting attacked by wild animals - perhaps she fell, broke her legs and her back and that’s when the animals arrived on the hunt. Anyhow, it truly doesn’t matter. The girl is really a woman, and has been a ward of the state so long that only the very oldest workers recall her full name. She is wrapped up and sent to the basement, nothing more than a footnote in the day’s happenings.)

She wakes up panicking, and the nurses do not like her noise, and so they have extra shots for her, a straitjacket and a stern lecture. She gasps and croaks and tries to explain. 

The cold orderly is there, trying to protect her from the rough treatment but disguised as trying to wrangle her. She tries to tell him, tries to explain there’s a hunter in their midst, a hunter coming for her to start with and maybe others but her head and tongue are muddled, so it just comes out as croaks of, “Red man, red man, red man.”

The shots pierce her flesh and she wails like a child because she doesn’t want to die like that. 

Doesn’t want to die. 

(She just wants to live. Just once. Just for a little while.)

—

The orderly is no fool. 

But neither is the hunter. 

The future ripples and changes once more.

—

Down south, amongst the dust and blood of the Wars, a soldier goes rogue, a Major deserts, and the Lady of Monterrey rages. 

Up north, a family packs their things, ready to move on. Again. 

For race, I'd say a Swiftstride Shifter works best. Specifically the statblock from the Races of Eberron Unearthed Arcana--I've seen one without Keen Senses and, yeah, that didn't make sense to me. Swiftstride Shifters get +2 to their Dexterity, bumping Blake up to 17, and +1 to their Charisma, evening that out to 14. They also get sixty feet of Darkvision, Keen Senses for an automatic Perception proficiency, and Graceful for an automatic Acrobatics proficiency. And then there's the big draw--automatically got 35 walk speed (5 more than the usual norm), plus they can trigger a one-minute transformation for both another +5 speed (total of 40 feet) and the ability to move 10 feet as a reaction when an enemy ends their round within 5 feet of them without triggering attacks of Oppurtunity. (Also get some temporary hit points during the transformation, but that's a side benefit.) Blake's hard to hit even before she gets class levels. And her first class level will make her even harder to hit.

For Background I figure Courtier from Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide works best. It gives Blake proficiency in Insight and Persuasion, two extra languages of her choice, and the feature Court Functionary. To quote the online source I'm using:

Your knowledge of how bureaucracies function lets you gain access to the records and inner workings of any noble court or government you encounter. You know who the movers and shakers are, whom to go to for the favors you seek, and what the current intrigues of interest in the group are.

Very much something Blake would be interested in. Admittedly, for her noble courts are more the 'legally dubious' organizations like the White Fang and the Happy Huntresses, but being the daughter of the chief of Kuo Kuana probably gives her some political acumen anyway.

I'm not going to go level-by-level like Turlok does, I don't think anyone here wants me to ramble too much, but I will say Blake will be getting nine levels of Rogue and eleven of Fighter. Four Rogue levels, five Fighter levels, five more Rogue levels, then six Fighter levels. Starting with Rogue gives her a lot of proficiencies, and fighter... a lot less, when she multiclasses into it, but enough to shore up Rogue. Rogues get proficiencies in Light Armor and Simple Weapons (and a bunch of specific Martial Weapons, but multiclassing into Fighter gives her all the Martial Weapons anyway so no need to be specific there). They also get proficiencies in Thieves' Tools, which work on traps as well as locks, and on Dexterity and Intelligence saving throws--Blake's smart enough not to be fooled and nimble enough to get out of the way. Finally, they get four skill proficiencies, and I figure Blake would go with Athletics, Deception, Investigation, and Stealth to round out her ninja-ing. Multiclassing into Fighter gives a character proficiency in Simple and Martial Weapons, as well as Light and Medium Armor and Shields; honestly, Blake isn't going to be using those proficiencies much, it's more for the class features, but I thought I'd mention them.

With nine levels of Rogue come most of the standard Rogue abilities, which mostly make Blake that much harder to hit, so I'll only go over the stuff that has to be chosen. Blake gets two expertises on their first and sixth level, which she can choose to place on any skill to double her proficiency bonus on them; Acrobatics, Athletics, Investigation, and Persuasion are what I figured fit her most.

A third level Rogue chooses a Roguish Archetype, and the website I'm using has 'Acrobat' as an option; that gives Blake Ariel Artistry at third Rogue level (When she moves, she can instead take two short movements by flying. Each movement is half her speed, and she must end each one on a solid object or the ground. If she does not, she falls and her movement ends.) and Fearless Aerialist at ninth Rogue level (she no longer takes damage from falling).

And then there are the Ability Score Improvements at fourth and eighth level; for fourth level I figure Blake would appreciate the Dual Wielder feat, and because I'm splitting 4-5-5-6  that means the eighth level Improvement is actually Blake's third improvement, so there's be +1 to Dexterity and +1 to Intelligence (because she already got +2 to Dexterity from Fighter), so that would cap her Dexterity at 20 and make her Intelligence 13. Also, the Dual Wielder feat for reference:

You master fighting with two weapons, gaining the following benefits:

You gain a +1 bonus to AC while you are wielding a separate melee weapon in each hand. You can use two-weapon fighting even when the one-handed melee weapons you are wielding aren't light. You can draw or stow two one-handed weapons when you would normally be able to draw or stow only one.

So this basically covers most of Blake's "normal" mobility, but her combat capabilities and Semblance will be covered by Fighter.

The non-variable Fighter improvements boil down to 'extra attacks, extra actions, and a few features to help you shrug off damage.' Blake is nothing if not tenacious. Of the variable features, I think she'd pick up the Two-Weapon Fighting Style on her first Fighter level, because that lets her use her ability score with the damage of her bonus attack with her offhand weapon (high Dex, lotta hitting power). Her ability score improvments at Fighter Level Four, Six, and Eight would be two points to Dexterity, Charisma, and Wisdom respectively. For those at home, that means her Dexterity is 20, Charisma and Wisdom 16 each, Intelligence 13, Constitution 10 and Strength 8 when all's said and done. Of course, third level fighters get to pick a martial Archetype that gives them benefits as they level, and Echo Knight is perfectly suited for Blake. Right off the bat, she gets this:

Manifest Echo 3rd-level Echo Knight feature

You can use a bonus action to magically manifest an echo of yourself in an unoccupied space you can see within 15 feet of you. This echo is a magical, translucent, gray image of you that lasts until it is destroyed, until you dismiss it as a bonus action, until you manifest another echo, or until you're incapacitated.

Your echo has AC 14 + your proficiency bonus, 1 hit point, and immunity to all conditions. If it has to make a saving throw, it uses your saving throw bonus for the roll. It is the same size as you, and it occupies its space. On your turn, you can mentally command the echo to move up to 30 feet in any direction (no action required). If your echo is ever more than 30 feet from you at the end of your turn, it is destroyed. You can use the echo in the following ways:

-As a bonus action, you can teleport, magically swapping places with your echo at a cost of 15 feet of your movement, regardless of the distance between the two of you.

-When you take the Attack action on your turn, any attack you make with that action can originate from your space or the echo's space. You make this choice for each attack.

-When a creature that you can see within 5 feet of your echo moves at least 5 feet away from it, you can use your reaction to make an opportunity attack against that creature as if you were in the echo's space.

Unleash Incarnation 3rd-level Echo Knight feature

You can heighten your echo's fury. Whenever you take the Attack action, you can make one additional melee attack from the echo's position.

You can use this feature a number of times equal to your Constitution modifier (a minimum of once). You regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

At Fighter level seven, Blake would get Echo Avatar, which lets her send her Echo on scouting missions for ten minutes at a time. Not very in character, sure. But she's very aware of everything anyway, so it's not surprising she'd have eyes and ears everywhere. And then, at level ten, she gets the very appropriately named Shadow Martyr, which lets her make her Echo teleport and take the hit for any creature she can see being attacked as a reaction. That is very much in character for Blake.

Technically, the eleventh level of Fighter (and the twentieth level of the build) gives her another extra attack, which could be devastating with all the weapons she can juggle thanks to Dual Wielder and her weapon proficiencies. I'm not sure if that's better then a tenth level in Rogue, which would give her another ability score improvement, but it does mean she can rain down a lot of pain very quickly--and the woman cut down a missile barrage once! While boosted. But it happened!

Blaine had done his absolute best to keep away from his family as much as possible on Wednesday. There was a lot Thanksgiving prep going on and this year, apparently, his mother wanted to entertain. When Blaine realized it was due to the family wanting to meet Rachel, he felt a whole new wave of guilt and terror. Blaine was quick to make a lie about Rachel being sick and unable to make it, but it didn’t stop the passive aggressive comments. Hence, the reason for Blaine’s hiding.

It was another lie but Blaine didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t sure how his family was going to take the truth. Or the partial truth of it all. He was always so afraid around them and there was always that need to be perfect. To try and be Cooper. Even if Blaine knew he wasn’t perfect, he still needed to be just like his brother. He couldn’t wait to get back to Ginsburg and his friends. To Kurt. Since finding those notes, Blaine couldn’t stop thinking of Kurt.

As he continued to unpack the night before, Blaine found two additional notes..

(Third note): A blue post-it note, folded and tucked inside Blaine's perfectly folded and creased pants. "I am writing this with my injured wrist. And you aren't here to yell at me. I am thinking this is the beginning of my rebellious phase. Could I pull off vibrant colored hair?" There's a doodle of "rebel" Kurt on the back, with exaggerated features such as eye liner makeup, spiky accessories, and spiked hair in weird directions.

(Fourth & final note): An orange post-it note is folded and tucked inside the suitcases corner. "If you're reading this, that means I'm entitled to a FaceTime with you before I forget what you look like. - K PS. Also if you don't, I officially am swapping living conditions with you. This is my pantry now." 

He was careful to keep all four of them and placed them into the cover of a book he brought back with him. The last note Blaine had memorized word for word and could almost hear Kurt’s voice when he read it or thought about it. He had been tempted to FaceTime him so many times on Wednesday but Blaine wanted to keep quiet so he wouldn’t be roped in to any chores or more passive aggressive comments from his mother.

When Thursday finally came, Cooper arrived. Blaine was pleased he had not been there the day before because he wasn’t sure if he could handle two whole days of his brother. He showed up at 11 to the house and within the hour his aunt Penelope and uncle Jerry, his father’s brother and his snooty second wife, arrived. Thankfully, Blaine’s cousin Andrew an equally snooty thirteen-year-old was off at his mother’s house for Thanksgiving. That was just another thing for the family to gripe about. Blaine liked his Aunt Joan and was actually sad when they divorced. She was a gem and yet somehow her son turned out to be a spawn of Satan. Andrew seemed more like his stepmother’s biological child as they had the worst attitudes of anyone Blaine had met. 

His mother’s sister Mae was unable to join as she and her husband had moved to North Dakota a month prior and still had a lot of work to do around the house. Blaine didn’t mind them so much and wished they had been able to come because it would have been nice to have some kind of buffer. Mae didn’t think Cooper was all that talented and challenged him each time they were together. Blaine loved it. 

Instead he was trapped with his parents, his brother, his step-aunt and uncle, and his older cousin Regina (Mae’s daughter) and her husband and annoying six year old twins Emma and Maggie. 

Blaine could really use a drink and he knew there was no chance to sneak one. He dressed in the outfit Kurt had clearly picked out for him and before heading down to the variable hell that would be dinner, he snapped a picture of himself in the bathroom mirror and sent it along to Kurt with the message…

Here you go. My good side. By the way, thanks for dressing me. And thanks for the notes.

Dinner started off as normal as they could get and it was a lot of talk about how each adult member of the family was doing, discussing work and other boring things. Cooper came in with talk about his show and the fans and how well his book was doing. Blaine hoped that they could eat the rest of their dinner without any kind focus on Blaine.

“So, Blaine. How’s Ginsburg?” His uncle Jerry asked as they moved onto dessert. Naturally, he couldn’t get so lucky.

“Oh, it’s good.” Blaine replied with a small smile.

“Good?” Jerry replied. “Your father is paying thousands of dollars a year for good?”

“Actually,” Blaine started, his eyes flickering over to the other end of the table at his parents. “They aren’t paying for me.”

“Not paying for you?” Penelope asked sounding a little taken aback.

His father cleared his throat. “Well, Blaine got in on scholarships.”

“And loans.” Blaine mumbled.

“What’s the matter James are you too hard up for money you can’t pay for his schooling?” Jerry continued as if his brother had said nothing.

“Jerry, he said that Blainey got in on scholarships.” Penelope said reaching for the apple pie.

Blaine hated that she called him Blainey.

Regina decided to butt in while her husband dealt with the gravy that had been spilled down one of the twin’s dresses. “Scholarships are admirable.” She said. “Means you’re really smart. What are you studying again?”

“Music therapy.” Blaine was doing his best to remain as polite as possible because he knew inevitably what was coming.

“What the hell is that?” Jerry asked a little uncouth, and his wife smacked him on the arm for using such language at the dinner table. “What? I mean what the hell is music therapy?”

“It’s uhm,” Blaine hesitated. “It’s uhm, well it’s a therapist who uses music as a way to help their patients who suffer from emotional or mental-“

“Jesus, that’s what you’re sending him to school for?” Jerry angrily cut off a piece of pumpkin pie and shoved it into his mouth.

“Well, it has been proven to show a lot of—”

“Yeah yeah,” Jerry waved his hand to quiet Blaine. “Sounds like a bunch of stuff for fairies if you ask me.”

Blaine felt as if someone had reached in and squeezed his heart. And Sebastian wondered why he had a problem coming out to his family. He took a shaky breath and tried to keep calm.

“Blaine’s really good.” Cooper spoke this time and Blaine was genuinely surprised. He looked over at his brother, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “He had a showcase in September and he nailed it.”

Blaine smiled a little at his brother who returned his gaze and winked. Cooper was…defending him. And he used his actual name and didn’t call him Squirt. 

“Yeah that’s fine and well for a hobby, but what about a real carrier. Like being a lawyer, a doctor, even a politician.”

“Well, I plan on getting a doctoral degree in-” Blaine started before he was cut off. 

“I think what Jerry means is a real doctor.” Penelope said. “Regina pass the whip cream, would you?”

Blaine’s brow furrowed. “That is a re-”

“Trust me, Jerry we’ve tried to talk Blaine into other majors.” His father replied taking a sip of his wine. 

Blaine hated that he was being talked about like he wasn’t in the room. He blinked and stared dumbfounded at his father. He wasn’t surprised, he had previously known his father’s feelings on his major. But he was a little surprised he was talking about it at all. Normally his parents were quiet about the whole affair. 

“Doesn’t seem like there is much money in music therapy.” Regina commented. 

“I’m not doing it for the money. I want to help people.”

“You could be a doctor and help people.” Penelope said. 

“A lawyer is a nice profession.” Jerry said, pointing his fork at Blaine. 

“It could be lovely to have a lawyer in the family.” His mother commented. 

“I don’t want to be any of those things.” Blaine said raising his voice to be heard. 

“How is he going to marry with a job like music therapist.”

“Oh Blaine’s seeing someone now!” Cooper said. 

“Really? And she isn’t here?” Regina nearly bounced out of her seat. 

“You sure it’s a she?” Jerry laughed. 

“Yes!” Cooper scowled. “She’s adorable. A fan too! She read my book and I gave her a signed copy after dinner the other week.”

“What do you mean by you sure it’s a she?” His father asked.

“Well, to be honest I didn’t think he’d find a girl.” Jerry shrugged. 

“Why isn’t she here?” Penelope asked leaning over to his mother. 

“Blaine says she’s sick. The flu, I think he said. But she’ll be here for Christmas.”

There was so much conversation going on simultaneously around the table it was hard for Blaine to find a way in. 

“Actually, I doubt she will be. She’s Jewish.” Cooper said with pie in his mouth. 

“Cooper, manners.” Their father chided. 

“Jewish?” Penelope blinked and put a hand on her chest. “You couldn’t find a Christian girl? Are they short on those there?”

“I’m sure she’s lovely.” His mother assured. 

“I’m just asking. But I suppose beggers can’t be choosers.”

“ENOUGH!” Blaine shouted, slamming his hands on the table. He was seething by this point. All eyes were on him and the table was silent. There was a lot to touch on in the conversations that were happening and Blaine wasn’t sure where to start. And while he stood there deciding his father spoke up. 

“Blaine.” His tone was even and his stare cold. “Kitchen. Now.” 

He clenched his jaw and hesitated but he shrunk under his father’s gaze. Blaine glanced around the table and each member of his family looked at him various levels of outrage on their faces. His mother looked disappointed and when his eyes fell onto Cooper there was something more like pity there. He followed his father into the kitchen. 

“Dad, I-” He started to apologize as they entered the kitchen but his father rounded on him. 

“No, I don’t want to hear it.” He said trying to keep his voice quiet but the anger was very evident. If not in his tone then on his face. “How dare you raise your voice to your mother and I let alone your aunt and uncle. You will go back out there and apologize for your behavior-”

“My behavior?” Blaine scoffed. “Did you hear the things they were saying? Why should I apologize, I have nothing to apologize for!”

His father waved his hands to silence Blaine. “You have embarrassed me enough tonight.”

Blaine felt tears start to well up in the corner of his eyes. “Why, Dad? Because I’m not Cooper? Because I’m doing something I love rather than what you want?”

“That’s enough Blaine.” 

“No. It’s not. You have always stood up for Cooper and just told me it’s not enough. It’s never enough.” Blaine blinked trying to see through the tears that ran down his cheeks, not stopping to wipe them away. “Cooper is an actor. An actor and me wanting to be a therapist isn’t good enough for you?”

 Blaine wasn’t sure where he found the courage to say all of this. He normally nodded and just did what his parents told him, he wanted them to be proud. But right now, Blaine was too angry to think straight.

“Blaine.” His father said through gritted teeth. “I’m warning you.”

“You let them talk down about my major, about what I want to do with my life. About my girlfriend. And you think I’m out of line? You’re my father can’t you stand up for me once in a while?”

“I said that was enough!” He father shouted. His father took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “It’s hard to stand up for my son when he’s a disappointment. Turn after turn a disappointment.” 

Blaine recoiled at the volume of his father’s voice. He had never been shouted at like that before. It was always a quiet unspoken disappointment never said to his face. 

“Now you can either go in there and apologize, or excuse yourself for the evening. And honestly, I think it would be better if you just went to your room for the rest of the night.” His father wouldn’t look at him now.

Blaine didn’t know what else to say. He just nodded and silently left the kitchen and made his way to the stairs and up to his room and quietly shut the door behind him.

Episode 9

I honestly thought that L and Light wouldn’t meet until well past the halfway mark because… well, that’s why all the tension existed! Neither of them were ever in the same physical space, and they were exacting a war against each other from a distance.

That’s why L’s actions are so fucking flagrant and brilliant. No one expected this. Not me, not Light, PROBABLY NOT ANY OF YOU.

Episode 10

Even if he has Light investigate himself, it only means that he’ll eventually lead them straight to him anyway. It’ll happen either through his fantastic deductive work, or Light will give away something to the team. But does that mean that L will have to introduce Light to the other officers on the task force? That seems like a bad idea

Episode 11

Somehow, Kira had killed Ukita without knowing his real name. Understandably, EVERYONE FREAKS OUT. THAT INCLUDED ME. How? How had Light been able to do this while standing in his bedroom? He couldn’t have possibly known who would show up to the police station. But let’s say he did. “Assault” takes things a step further when Light’s father drives a bus into the station. Will Light risk killing him if he discovers who drove the bus? Oh, but let’s take this a step further: two random cops who show up to deal with the police bus that sits in the lobby ARE KILLED. There is a 0% chance that Light knew their names, so how? HOW???

Episode 12

There’s so much going on in this episode that I was positive the show would cut away right before Second Kira’s shinigami revealed how to kill him. Why would they reveal something this huge so early into the show? Because Death Note doesn’t give a shit about me, and I was shocked to watch an extended flashback sequence play out.

Episode 13

In the thirteenth episode of Death Note, I will repeat myself endlessly while reviewing this: HOW DOES IT KEEP ESCALATING.

I just have to expect this show to throw me into an abyss every episode. I just have to do this to survive.

Episode 14

At the very least, I don’t think Misa will last much longer because she’s too much of a risk to Light. IT’S GONNA HAPPEN, I’M CALLING IT.

Episode 15

I get that catching Kira is a big deal for all of these people, and I’m happy that they all believe that Kira’s murders are 100% wrong. Does that mean they should be allowed to do something like this to a teenage girl??? No, not at all!!! It’s horrifying! Did they feed her? Anything???

Episode 16

NOW I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHO THIS SHOW IS ABOUT. WHAT THE FUCK.

Episode 17

As for Light? Well, he’s now handcuffed to L. FOR TWENTY-FOUR HOURS A DAY. (Major BOOOOO to that weird-ass line where Misa calls them gross because boys shouldn’t be handcuffed together? Yuck.)

[N.B.: This is the first and only remark by Mark Oshiro, Gayest Reviewer on Planet Earth, that in any way acknowledges subtext between Light and L. Behold the glory of this non-barking dog, my psychotic fandom.]

Episode 18

At this point, does L even suspect anyone else aside from Light and Misa? No, not really, even when he guesses (correctly!) that Kira’s “power” can jump from one person to the next. I don’t think L will ever take his eye off of Light for the remainder of the show.

Episode 19

In the nineteenth episode of Death Note, I really loved this, and MATSUDA IS GREAT.

Episode 20

Yet this is where the main schism happens. L, unsurprisingly, wants to follow the option that allows his theories to be proven. That’s who he is. He’s nearly as averse to being impulsive as Light, so he doesn’t want to move ahead with an arrest UNLESS he can prove every bit of his hypothesis. In this case, that means letting people die, despite knowing that these men are going to use Kira to kill them. There is a tragic irony in the fact that Light finds this plan abhorrent because DUDE, YOU HAVE KILLED MORE PEOPLE THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THIS DAMN SHOW.

Episode 21

However, then she stated that she wanted to do something to get even closer to Light and impress him.

HOW WAS A DATE WITH HIGUCHI GOING TO HELP HER DO THAT? Oh, Mark, YOU DON’T GET IT.  Look, the very nature of Death Note means I’m always going to act like a fool whenever someone tells the truth.

Episode 22

Look, I kept thinking that EVERYTHING was going to go wrong. When Light called the Yotsuba men, I was certain they’d spoil the plan. Then I thought that Higuchi wouldn’t actually go through with murdering Matsuda. And then, as each piece fell into place, the tension got worse because WHAT IF HE ACTUALLY REVEALS HOW HE KILLS? How is Misa going to react to that?

Episode 23

How the hell are there fourteen more episodes??? HOW???

Episode 24

I’m so nervous about this development, though, because it allows Light to be completely free of the investigative team. Oh, sure, he’ll probably stick around so he can monitor everything, keep these people from getting close to him, but now? He’s won, hasn’t he? At least for the time being. However, there are now a bunch of variables and chaotic factors just sitting around. All these detectives and cops and investigators all know the truth of the Death Note. (Well, except that Light lied about one of the rules that governs the notebook. HE IS SO EVIL, Y’ALL.) How are they going to approach this case knowing the truth? I bet that Light will start killing criminals in the next episode, and I don’t know how this will progress from there. Don’t they all know way too much? Can’t they use the knowledge they have of the Death Note to be better detectives? How many red herrings will Light give them to keep them busy?

I am comfortable stating that something like that can’t last forever. Something will have to come crashing down. What could that be???

Episode 25

What the hell is wrong with this show.

Episode 26

Y’all, Death Note doesn’t even fuck around when it comes to CLIP EPISODES.

Episode 27

WELL, THIS IS HOW THERE ARE MORE EPISODES OF THIS SHOW. THE DEATH NOTE IS INTERNATIONAL NOW, AND LIGHT IS GONNA GET FUCKED UP. Episode 28

The elaborate, complicated, and utterly ridiculous means that Mello and his men go to in order to obtain the Death Note is significant because, as I said before, no one had been able to truly best Light. Ever. Ever. L tried, and LOOK WHERE THAT GOT HIM. (I miss him.) But Mello comes out of nowhere, concocts a truly absurd method to get what he wants, and executes it flawlessly. Seriously, let’s go over this. He:

orchestrates the quietest hijacking of an airplane ever, all so that it can land somewhere in the middle of the desert in America and then continue on to its final destination of Los Angeles. (Can you imagine how fucking terrifying that must have been if you were on that plane? IT LANDED IN THE DESERT!!!! Good lord, they’re probably all traumatized now.)

is fully aware that Soichiro will be monitored by satellite, so the entire swap is UNDERGROUND IN A SECRET BUNKER THAT SOME GANG OR MAFIA ONCE USED.

has his man utilize a revolving door that is so deviously brilliant that I can’t even believe a human thought of it.

has that same man making the trade test out the Death Note before accepting it

then has two separate “vehicles” leave the compound at the same time so that those surveilling him don’t know which one has the Death Note on it.

makes one of the vehicles a missile. I cannot even remotely exaggerate here, y’all. A missile. A MISSILE.

I THOUGHT LIGHT WAS RIDICULOUS AND OVERLY-DETAILED ABOUT HIS PLANS, BUT HE HAS CLEARLY MET HIS MATCH.

Episode 29

(Does that mean he gave up half his life AND HE ONLY HAD A FEW HOURS LEFT ANYWAY? Good god.)

Episode 30

In order to subvert what Near is doing, he turns the President against the SPK and has him PUBLICLY DECLARE THAT THE U.S. WILL NOT PURSUE KIRA. He knows that everyone is afraid of him, so the threat against the President’s life is easy. It’s a no-brainer. But when Near gets a little too close to the truth, Light takes matters a step further, unleashing Demegawa’s dogma as a weapon. He stokes the flames of anger and resentment, and he lets this man loose on the airwaves, and A GIANT CROWD OF PEOPLE ARE BREAKING INTO SPK HEADQUARTERS TO OSTENSIBLY MURDER EVERYONE THERE AND HOW IS THIS A MORAL, PEACEFUL WORLD, LIGHT? PLEASE ANSWER THAT.

Episode 31

But how? How does Light slip up so terribly after meticulously constructing this entire existence meant to protect him?

I think the answer to that can be found in the way that Near behaves. It’s so much clearer now that Near is NOTHING like L, and his brash, aggressive manner speaks to that. I believe Light composed his master manipulation with L in mind. There was a code of sorts that L followed. Near, however, doesn’t give a shit. He really doesn’t.

Episode 32

WELL. I said that I wasn’t sure why Mikami had been introduced to us so suddenly and without a real sense for who he is, AND THUS, I GOT THIS EPISODE.

Episode 33

She then requests five pages of the Death Note and tells him to continue killing people with a “fake” notebook. Which makes no sense to me! How can Mikami kill anyone if his notebook is fake? Perhaps I misunderstood this, and Mikami scheduled out deaths in order to cover himself. But what did he do with the real Death Note? Hide it? Give it back to Light? Of course, all of this is useless to talk about if Mikami didn’t actually do as he was told. HOW THE FUCK DID MIKAMI KILL THAT MAN ON THE TRAIN? How?????? I DON’T GET IT.

Episode 34

Credit for that goes to Gevanni, who was given one of the most difficult tasks on the whole team. Surveilling Mikami had been bad enough, but he’s asked to break into the man’s locker at the gym and touch the Death Note. IT’S SO TERRIFYINGLY RISKY, ISN’T IT. Yes, it’ll give him the power to see a shinigami, but Ryuk could be RIGHT THERE. Watching him. READY TO WARN MIKAMI ABOUT HOW CLOSE THE SPK ARE.

Bless that man’s heart. That whole sequence was terrifying.

Episode 35

I’m still struggling to understand why he did it. Why kidnap Takada? If his goal was to catch Kira before Near did, then I suppose he was trying to draw Kira out by kidnapping someone associated with him. As Kira’s spokesperson, Takada was the only person that Mello had access to who could make this goal of his a reality.

Lord, does he underestimate EVERYTHING, though. Kidnapping a high-profile media personality was bad enough. Did he think no one would follow him or figure out a way to locate Takada? However, it’s Takada’s resourcefulness that ends up taking Mello down. I still don’t know how this fits in with Light’s plan for Mikami. Does he have a fake Death Note or not? We do see what Takada does with one of the pages that Mikami gave her, but I’m also a little confused by that, too. As far as I understood it, Light genuinely did not expect her to have that page, nor did he think she would use the Death Note to kill anyone if she was ever captured. Indeed, that’s part of the conversation that they have over the phone near the end of the episode. Light refers to a vague “plan” that he had discussed with Takada about what should happen if she were captured. Which was???? We don’t ever find out because she made her own choice.

Episode 36

The show drags this moment out to an impossible length, and even if it’s seriously unbelievable (WAY MORE THAN THIRTY SECONDS PASSED, COME ON), it’s compelling and nerve-wracking. This is it. There’s no leaving that room unless one side wins. You know, Death Note has been fairly cynical along the way, so if it ends with Light’s victory, I wouldn’t necessarily be surprised. But I want Near to reveal that he knew this would happen because… well, I want to see Light pay for what he’s done. I want to see him fall from his unnatural height because he’s played with human lives as if they are nothing more than pieces of garbage to be discarded as he saw fit.

I want Near to bring justice to this world because Light has no idea what justice is.

Episode 37

I found it incredibly powerful that after thirty-six episodes of this man proudly and defiantly claiming that he was at the head of a moral mission to protect the world from evil, Near called him a murderer. IT IS ABSOLUTELY THE BEST SINGLE EXCHANGE IN THE ENTIRE EPISODE, PERHAPS THE WHOLE SERIES. In just a few sentences, Near obliterated Light’s logic. He called him a serial killer and a murderer and refused to accept a single shred of this man’s terrible logic. I LOVE IT SO MUCH, EVERYONE. I think it’s a perfect lead-in to what comes next: Matsuda’s reaction. After Near so brilliantly dissected what was wrong with Light, I believe that Matsuda broke. And honestly, I don’t think there was a better choice of a character to finally go up against Light and to fatally harm him. Look at his transformation! He went from the goofy, underused investigator to the man who wanted desperately to be seen, to be respected. Then, as L was killed and Kira became an undeniable part of the world, he turned into a fanboy. He began to support the idea of Kira, perhaps not totally, but enough to be entertained by the drama that unfolded around him. He couldn’t take the case seriously because… well, did anyone take it seriously?

So when he found out that he’d been played, that the killer they’d been searching for the whole time was right next to him, he snapped. This story belonged to Matsuda, and it’s about the best closure I could ask for.