#I'm sure there is some commentary or explanation or something

[storyweaverofgondor]

I have seen more disabled people in my favorite 80s shows then the modern ones i watch.

[mychapel-004]

I think the most interesting and under-explored part of gf canon is the formation of the blind eye and I'm tired of pretending it isn't: a long post

Because hear me out here, if we really take a look at the timing of the only concrete source we have (mcgucket's video diaries), it doesn't... line up at all?

The clear implication here is that he started making the diaries after the first portal incident on January 18th 1983, so this would be our "day one"

"For the past year I have been working as an assistant for a visiting researcher... But something went wrong. I decided to quit the project, but I lie awake each night, haunted by the thoughts of what I've done... Test subject one: Fiddleford."

But this makes no sense. We know from J3 that the memory gun was actually invented after a series of traumatic events with Ford, months before he left the project. Further, the timeline the video diaries set up of the blind eye show that he began to deteriorate and founded the blind eye on day 22, which would be February 9th, but in J3 the blind eye is already a full blown cult by then.

In addition, where is he in this video? we know from TBOB that he isn't on good terms with his wife after Christmas of 1982 and he likely didn't leave GF after the portal incident, but he was living with Ford up until this so where is this room? If he had somewhere else to stay, why only stay there now?

Now, realistically the answer here is that the lore was changed and slightly retconned between the writing of this episode and the publishing of the book (which alex discusses in some of the commentary for this episode when discussing fidd's character), but I think a more interesting theory to solve this contradiction can be found in the source material.

If we play this all completely straight, there are two options here, both involving Fiddleford lying in his diaries. this isn't entirely new to the series, unreliable narration is a big theme, especially in Journal 3 and TBOB. the only real explanations are that:

A) Fiddleford was lying about this being the first time he used the gun, meaning this video diary takes place after the portal incident.

B) Fiddleford was lying about leaving the project, and was filming these diaries while still working with Ford.

Now, either of them is plausible, but ultimately Fiddleford is a scientist. He has dedicated his life to engineering, and it seems to be his lifelong passion considering it's one of the only character traits that he continues to practice after losing his mind. Would a man who is this talented, this dedicated, really lie about testing results in a video diary he chose to make?

If he had used the gun before, any kind of result he is trying to observe would be ruined. It would be a pointless venture, since we know for a fact that by the time he leaves the project he has used the gun on himself, Ford and other civillians multiple times. It's a complete failure of the scientific method, and I don't think it makes sense for the character we know, the man who quadruple checks his own calculations just to be sure they're right.

However, the other explanation feels like something he might do. We know he invents the gun after the Gremloblin incident likely sometime in August, and seems to use it immediately as evidenced by J3, on both himself and Ford. We know from the audio commentary that for Fidd, the memory gun is very much an addiction, it's something that he uses to curb his anxiety and appear like a better partner, to try and keep himself together until the project is over. But ultimately, he's known something is wrong with the project for a long time, and Ford mentions his tendency towards self destructive anxiety when Fidd rips out his own hair after Ford reveals the tip of the weirdness iceberg to him.

All this to say, I think it's far more realistic for Fiddleford to lie about leaving the project rather than his results. He knows that something is wrong, that he should leave and be with his family, and on the other side of that we know that Bill is using this anxiety to whisper into Ford's ear that Fidd is unreliable and will leave. He's been through a severely traumatic event with the Gremloblin, trapped for days in his worst nightmares, to the point where he is prepared to cause himself potential brain damage to un-see it.

But despite all of it, he doesn't leave. He is determined to stay, maybe out of loyalty, maybe out of fear for Ford's safety, maybe he needs the money from the project for his family. He has a wife and son who need him and we know that he feels guilt for his treatment towards them, he even cites them as his sole reason for backing out of using the gun immediately before he does it anyway, and uses it on Ford to cover his mistakes up. Fiddleford is a man who is wracked by anxiety and shame and is such a bad way by this point that he is absolutely willing to self-destruct and lie to just get through this project.

I think he absolutely would start documenting his use of the memory gun, even if that meant lying that he had followed his instincts and left the project when he should have done. After all, he says himself that he wants to use this gun on a wider scale as a therapy tool, assuming the gun doesn't turn his brain to mush, surely the tapes of his initial testing will need to be peer-reviewed? He's presenting the reality he wishes was true, the one where he is brave and stands on his principles and doesn't fall into step beside Ford on his path to destruction.

So, where does this leave the timeline?

Finding exact dates is difficult, mostly because the only concrete numbers in J3 are few and far between, but we do have the dates of the tapes to go off as follows. This isn't concrete but it's a fun way to recontextualise the events of J3:

Day 1:

First usage of the gun, followed by it being used on Ford

Sometime after the Gremloblin incident, Fidd's arm is either healed or on the mend from the incident as his cast is gone, so likely towards the end of August.

Note on the cast: It could also be gone as a result of him removing it too early, he doesn't seem to take a lot of time to recover from the incident before he gets back to work in fear of disappointing Ford.

The room he is in is likely his bedroom in the Shack, or whatever location he initially uses to form the blind eye, maybe a room in the museum? The "probability of failure" graph in the back is the same one that he shows Ford the night before the Portal test, albeit a bigger version, meaning he has likely been tracking the output results for a while.

Day 5:

Still exhibiting postive results, no deterioration yet.

Day 22:

First signs of mental deterioration

First mention of the blind eye, Fidd draws the symbol onto a notebook but it is already scribbled in the background over a diagram of the portal. The blind eye symbol is first mentioned in J3, when Fidd hands it to the carny who becomes the eventual leader of the cult, so this diary likely takes place after he has begun using it on other people.

Official formation of the blind eye as a group to help people forget traumatic memories.

His room in the shack is in a state of disarray, his plants are dead and there are handprints in oil or ink on the walls. Notably, he seems to be connecting the idea of a single eye and the portal despite not being aware of Bill at this point, which I'll touch upon later.

The carnival is likely in September according to the timeline by @fordtato

Day 74:

Slight physical deterioration, more physical anxiety

It seems that Fidd has been regularly using the memory gun at this point, to erase even minorly distressing images from his head, and his anxiety has taken a nosedive. Likely explanation is that this diary is after the bunker, where he had another severely traumatic experience (kidnapped by a shapeshifter and reduced to mute from anxiety) and seemed to become obsessed with doomsday planning. During the bunker arc he also used the gun on multiple workmen and Ford once again.

Likely takes place in October/November

His room is a complete mess by now, with the walls covered in papers and "Help Me" scrawled on the walls.

At this point in J3, Ford has made his deal with Bill and is allowing him to possess his body whenever he pleases. Bill has also sucessfully driven a divide between the other two by making Ford doubt that Fidd will be able to make it to the end of the project, and Ford describes his frustration with him.

According to Ford, Fidd is just as agitated and nervous before the portal test as he was during the Gremloblin attack, and obsessively checks and rechecks his calculations, causing Ford to worry for his resolve.

In between this diary and the next are the stolen pages from J3 that are in TBOB, which give us slight insight into Fiddleford during this time but not much. We see that he tries multiple times to reach out to him the only way that Fidd knows how, through invention and creation, with the snowglobe and the six-fingered gloves. Ford, however, treats them carelessly as a result of his increased attention to his muse. At the same time, he tries to visit home but is kicked out by Emma-May after he forgets to get her a Christmas gift. This is played as an example of his connection with Ford, him remembering two gifts for the man and none for his wife, but if he really is suffering from his use of the gun at this time, the forgetfulness makes even more sense and his argument with his family means he doesn't have a support system outside of Ford who is paying all of his attention to the project. After this, Fiddleford is more reclusive than ever as he spends early January compiling a thesis for Ford to publish

Day 189

Physical deterioration is in full effect and he can't hide the result of his addiction any more, even just to keep up appearances.

His arm is broken, likely due to the car accident he mentions accidentally causing, but its the same arm he broke during the Gremloblin attack and could be a result of him taking his cast off too early for it to have healed right in the first place which could explain why he wears it for so long.

Significant mental decline as he has started exhibiting signs of brain damage or swelling (decreased vocabulary, forgetfulness, loss of motor functions) however, he is seemingly lucid enough to question if the memory gun is causing negative side effects.

There are actually bottles visible in the back of the room, possbly referencing the addiction metaphor being used here

This would take place after the portal test, likely late January. Ford is at the height of his paranoia, Fiddleford has left the shack and taken every trace of his research with him except his college picture with Ford, and the blind eye is a fully established and seemingly self-governing cult.

Day 273

At this point, Fidd has relocated to a motel and is seemingly completely mentally gone, ripping out his hair and developing his hunched posture. This likely takes place after the blind eye takes his memories, or he continues erasing them himself. It's possible that the blind eye continues visiting him and taking his memories even after he is ejected as a member, or at least until they forget who he is after using the gun on themselves too many times.

It appears to be snowing outside? Which doesn't line up with either the canon timeline or this timeline, so potentially the days on the video diaries could be incorrect assuming he isn't filming them every day, or has lost so much of his mind by this point that he isn't labelling them right and has lost track of time

The final two entries are a similar story, serving only to show us the end of his decline and him eventually becoming fully homeless, retreating to the junkyard he lives in for the next 28 years (jesus, he really deserved that mansion).

Ultimately though, this timeline asks a lot of interesting character questions.

Why did Ford not realise how bad Fiddleford's decline was becoming? Maybe a mix of circumstances, he was falling deeper into his worship of Bill at the time, to the extent that he was regularly being possessed and judging by the lack of journal entries at the time, very pre-occupied. We also know that Fidd used the gun on him at least twice in canon, and possibly used it more than we know in order to convince Ford he was okay.

If Fiddleford was erasing parts of Ford's memory, did Bill know? Personally, I feel that Bill was aware but knew that ultimately it would serve him. Fiddleford, without ever encountering Bill at this point, created the blind eye symbol which is eerily close to Bill's symbolism, how would he know that when we know Ford is possessive of his muse and doesn't share anything with Fidd about it? How does Ford have visions of Fidd in a red cloak without ever knowing that the cult and Fidd are directly connected? My thoughts are that Bill, who we know has erased Ford's memory himself before when he stole the journal pages we see in TBOB, was using most of this as fodder to drive a divide between the two, mentally creating associations in both of their minds so they stop trusting the other. Chess but with troubled gay men.

All in all I think Fiddleford's decline is such an interesting way to approach a theme of addiction, particularly a high-functioning addiction. If this really is how things played out, we know that throughout his use of the gun and even 30 years later when he is considered a write-off, the one thing he maintains is his engineering prowess and his smarts. It makes sense that even when actively using the gun and hiding it from Ford he would be able to keep up in terms of building the portal, especially when we know he secretly hired workers. It's also a great example of someone drawing others into their addiction, even if it was unintentional and he didn't believe they would be hurt in the long run.

I feel like sometimes there's a lil bit of a push to see Fidd as a naive or morally good character even through his mistakes and to demonise Ford in response, but ultimately both of them are very morally grey and have their own vices that they develop and grow from.

Anyway, interested in this idea?

Well, good news if you are or my condolences if you hate it and want me dead, this is also an au I'm working on and writing at the moment! My fic link is below, the introduction is up right now and the next chapter will be coming out tomorrow with updates every few days now I've finally gotten this post out. The tag for this fic is 'Geiger counter au', hopefully I'll be able to get out some other headcanons I have for this idea because it's been floating around in my head since J3 came out.

Thank you for reading!

[anyarose011]

The Most "Wonderful" Time of the Year {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Despite a nice trip to the art gallery and ice skating rink, sometimes, Andy Williams just gets it wrong.

Part 8 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, description of nudity (on art), suggestive conversations, minor sexual harassment, a father has issues, fighting, Reader has a knife, and ANGST.

Heyyy guys (senior year, once again, has been kicking my ass and I also started a new mini-series that should be done soon). Again, I'm so sorry for how long it took me to upload and write this, and I know this chapter is short, but I swear it's got good shit in it. It's also fitting to have more chapters around Christmas time since, you know, this be a Christmas movie (yes, Alexander Payne, this can be a standalone movie, but you set it during Christmas so....) Anywho, I hope you like it (and that it breaks your heart :)

Word Count: 5.5k

You hated to admit it, but you actually like history museums. Even though your father always dragged you to them from childhood to adulthood, you didn’t really mind them. Your father’s additional commentary only added to the experience as you walked through the Greek section. It didn’t really for Angus.

“Are we almost done?” He asked.

“Quit whining.” You reprimanded him.

“I’m not.”

Your father chuckled. “What’s your hurry? I thought you liked Antiquity?”

He sighed. “In class, maybe. But I never think about it unless I need to.”

Humming, your father pointed to a casing of ceramics behind you. “Here, what do you see?”

You and Angus turned. Of course, he said. “A bunch of pottery.”

“Look at that one.” He pointed.

You certainly weren’t expecting to see a man diving his dick into a woman as she bent over to pick something up on an ancient Grecian artifact, but there you were in the Boston Fine Arts Museum, jaw on the floor.

“Amy look, a Candy Cane!” Angus teased.

“I hate you.” Was all that managed to leave your lips.

Your father chuckled, shaking his head. “Children, there’s nothing new in human experience. Each generation thinks it invented debauchery or suffering or rebellion, but man’s every appetite and impulse, from the disgusting to the sublime, is on display right here, all around you.” He gestured around the room filled with art. “So, before you dismiss something as boring or irrelevant, remember that if you truly want to understand the present, or yourself, you must begin in the past. History is not merely the past; it’s an explanation of the present.”

Angus nodded. “See, when you say it that way, and throw in some pornography, it’s a lot easier to understand.”

Mr. Hunham glanced over at you, surprised at your lack of outburst. “You’re not going to comment on that?”

“No,” you shrugged. “porn helping men understanding things checks out.”

Angus snorted, turning back to the teacher. “You should try talking more and yelling less in class. You know, most of the kids pretty much hate you. Teachers, too. You know that, right?”

“Hey.” You glared at him as if to say, ‘Lay off’.

Your father nodded, obviously trying not to show the hurt that was apparent on his face. “Well, I appreciate your frequent candidness, Mr. Tully.”

“Sure…” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down.

It was then you realized another thing about Angus Tully that reminded you about yourself: You only noticed how horrible your words were as soon as you were done saying them.

The rest of your time at the art museum wasn’t as awkward as that entire scene, thankfully. The sun had completely set by the time you had exited, and the three of you made your way to the park. It almost made you laugh how quick Angus was to the booth to rent ice skates.

“Have you been ice skating before?” He asked as you both sat on the bench, tying up your skates.

“Once when I was eight, I think. You?”

“I played hockey until high school.” He finished tying his and stood. “And I go every chance I get when I’m in the city.”

“So, you should only fall if I push you, right?”

“Right.”

You smiled after double knotting your ice skates and approached the entrance to the rink. “My feet feel weird.”

“Yeah, you haven’t been skating for almost ten years.” He teased, walking past you and standing on the ice with ease.

Sighing, you took a step out and immediately started flailing. Still, the two of you laughed when you retreated back to solid ground. “Nope.”

Angus begged. “Come on.”

“Nuh uh, not going to do it.”

“Your dad paid a good two dollars for us to skate, and you’re going to waste it?” He joked.

“Two dollars doesn’t mean anything to my father if I’m dead!”

“You’re not going to die.”

“But-.”

He said your name with the right amount of sincerity and playfulness. “You can hold onto me. I’ll cushion you if you do fall.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you still held onto the side railing, but stepped out onto the ice. Taking a deep breath, you began walking.

“You don’t want to do that.” Angus skated by your side at your pace.

“I’m alright.” You struggled to say.

He scoffed, holding out his hand. “Yeah, I can tell. Come on.”

You stared down at it as if he had never touched you before. Still, you took it. You expected him to pull you out into the center and leave you there for dead (or try to figure out how to skate on your own), but instead, you stayed by the wall.

“Okay, you’re gonna want to lean forward, and just glide; don’t walk.” He explained, showing you.

“I’ll fall.”

“No, you won’t. Just trust me.”

Against what your nervous system was saying, you decided to. Leaning forward, you tried to copy him; and it worked for like a few seconds before you started tripping over your own feet. He caught you, of course.

“Hey, not bad!” He held you up so you could stand.

“I almost died.”

“You’re standing on your own though!” He backed away, and you still were. “That’s a good start.”

You wanted to fire a nasty retort at him, but you could only girlishly giggle. You don’t know how long you spent on that ice skating rink with him. Yes, there would be times when your feet would ache, or you’d be a mix of sweaty from the physical labor of skating and freezing from the cold, Massachusetts air. Yet, as you finally gathered your footing, you felt as if you could compete in the next Olympics.

You couldn’t, of course, but you sure had the confidence to do so.

And it was fun to laugh and talk with Angus. It always was, but it felt as if you were both on an actual date as you skated together. To everyone else on that ice rink, you were. When Angus had completely fallen onto the ice (you didn’t actually push him down, he fell on his own), pulling you down with him, you’d nearly forgotten that your father was chaperoning you two as you laughed.

After leaving the rink and taking your skates back, you walked up a set of stairs with your father and Angus, discussing where to go for dinner when-.

“Paul Hunham, is that you?!” A man and a woman approached the three of you with a gleeful look. “It’s Hugh. Hugh Cavanaugh.”

Your father’s face fell for just a moment before laughing. “Yes! Yes, of course. Wow, Hugh Cavanaugh. Oh, how are you, Hugh?”

“Oh God, what’s it been? Thirty years?” He turned to the woman beside him. “Oh, uh this is my wife, Karen. Honey, this is Paul Hunham; we went to Harvard together.”

She smiled, shaking his hand, then yours, then Angus’. “Hello.”

“Yes,” your dad nodded at Hugh’s comment. “yes we did. Uh, wow; what have you been up to, Hugh? Still in the area?”

“Oh, uh, yes-yes I’m still in Boston. Cambridge.”

“Harvard.” Karen said proudly. “He just got tenure, statistics. He won’t blow his own horn, I have to blow it for him.”

“Okay,” Hugh said to change the subject. “what about you, Paul?”

“Oh, still teaching, we have that in common.” He nodded. “History, ancient history.”

“That’s great, that’s great. Where?”

“Abroad mostly.” Your father lied through his teeth on each word. “On fellowships. Privately funded fellowships. Universities and private academies. Mostly fellowships, you know. I’m currently posted in Antwerp. Just back here for the holidays.”

“So, are these your kids?” He pointed to you and Angus.

“Well-.”

“-I’m his nephew, Laurie.” Angus cut in, then looked at you. “This is my cousin, Amy.”

Karen smiled. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Hugh squinted his eyes as if to see you more clearly. Then, he chuckled. “Paul, do you know who she looks like?”

Your father hummed. “I would hope me.”

It was weird to hear your mother’s full name come out of a stranger’s mouth. He went on. “Do you see it? Same nose, same hair; you are the spitting image of beauty, young lady.”

Snickering, you didn’t even think of thanking him. “I’ve been told I have more of her temper than her looks. Although, our mouths are the same.”

“I have no doubt.” He laughed. “Paul, do you remember that one time freshman year?”

“Oh yes!” Your father pretended to. “When she-it was that one time during Roman history when Nolan-.”

“-Wouldn’t call on her when she was the only one to raise her hand,” Hugh looked back at you as if you didn’t know the story from the set up. “so she fed all the boys in the room the wrong answers for the rest of the class!”

“Yep,” Mr. Hunham nodded. “even I fell victim to it.”

Hugh was the only one who had relatively been amused by the fable. “Never put you and her together.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

The group fell into a strange silence after that. Thank God for Angus Tully.

“He’s writing a book now.” He titled his head toward your father. “Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul.”

“My book.” Your father snickered, then immediately played it off. “It’s not a book, really. Just a monograph. Nothing special.”

You decided to jump in. “Don’t be so modest, dad. It’s about, uh, cameras, right? Ancient cameras?”

Hugh hummed, a quizzical look on his face.

“What she means, of course, is the camera obscura.” Your father explained. “You know, the optical and astronomical tool that dates back to, um, the time of Anaxagoras.

“Tell him the title, Uncle Paul.” Angus went back, and you masked your smile for one of curiosity and not at the misfortune of your father.

“He’s not interested, Laurie.”

Hugh smiled. “Sure, I am.”

Sighing, Paul Hunham said with the perfect amount of enthusiasm and disinterest. “Lights and Magic in the Ancient World.”

Hugh nodded before turning back to his wife, and then to your father, clasping his hand on his shoulder. “Well, Paul, I’m so glad you landed on your feet. You look swell.”

“You too. So, swell.”

“I’m sorry about your mother, Amy.” He said to you.

Thinning your lips in a tight smile, you said. “Thanks.”

Him and Karen walked away hand in hand, but he turned over his shoulder. “And we’ll keep an eye out for your book, Paul. Won’t we, honey?”

 She nodded. Of course. Merry Christmas, Paul. Bye, Laurie and Amy.”

You all wished them ‘Merry Christmas’ as you three also left. Angus wasted no time turning to you.

“What the fuck just happened?!”

“You’re asking me?!” You matched him. “You sprung into ‘Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul!’, ‘What’s the title, Uncle Paul?’.”

“I had to think of something!”

Your father sighed. “I appreciated your efforts, but I would’ve been fine on my own.”

Rolling your eyes, you asked. “Can we get dinner now?”

“I need to pick something up from the liquor store first.”

Sighing overdramatically, you and Angus stumbled behind your father. That was when you looked at the boy beside you. “Also, Laurie and Amy? Really?”

“What? They’re like brother and sister. If I said you were Jo, then that would’ve been weird.”

Oh my god, he wasn’t even halfway through the book.

You wish you had a camera solely to capture the look on your father’s face as he turned over and stared at both of you. You wonder if that was when he found out about you and Angus.

Shaking your head, you didn’t know whether to laugh or scoff as you said. “Unbelievable.”

“What do you mean ‘unbelievable’?” Angus questioned. “Jo and Laurie get married in the end, right?”

“Unbelievable.” You repeated but smiled this time.

“Right?!”

Your father sighed as you finally made it to the store. “Look, the fact of the matter is, what happened, happened, and we should just pretend it didn’t.”

Angus furrowed his brow as you all walked in. “I thought Barton men don’t lie. Don’t get me wrong, that was fun, but you just lied through your teeth.”

He held up his hand, not having it. “What I say during a private conversation is none of your goddamn business. You’re not to judge me.”

“It wasn’t a private conversation; your daughter and I were there. Besides, he brought her into it.”

“I’m right here.” You announced yourself.

“Why’d he ask if you landed on your feet?”

Your father glanced up from searching through the shelves. “What is this, Nuremberg?”

“You’re the hardass constantly telling everybody not to lie and going on about the honor code!”

Looking up at both of you, Paul Hunham sighed. “There was an incident at Harvard with my roommate.”

You gave him a look. “I’ve never heard this story before.”

“He accused me of copying from his senior thesis. Plagiarizing.”

“Well, did you?” Angus asked.

“No! He stole from me.” Your father relented. “But that blue-blooded prick’s family had allies on the faculty. I mean, their last name is on a library, so he accused me in order to sanitize his treachery. And they threw me out.”

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “you got kicked out for cheating?”

“No, I got kicked out of Harvard for hitting him.”

Angus asked. “You hit him? Like punched him out?”

“No, I hit him with a car.”

“You got kicked out of Harvard for hitting a guy with a car?!”

“By accident,” he approached the counter, talking to the cashier. “Pint of Jim Beam, please.”

You piped up, still in astonishment. “Mom said you left because your grandma was dying.”

“She was, it was just perfect timing to go and help take care of her.” He shrugged. “But my roommate broke three ribs. Which was technically his fault, because he shouldn’t have been in the road.

“Two dollars, please.” The cashier said.

Your father took his wallet out, continuing his story. “Also, he shat himself; which was the greatest indignity.”

The cashier handed him the wrapped-up bottle. “Here you go, killer.”

You couldn’t help your laughter at the sudden statement. As the three of you left and walked down the darkened, cold roads, Angus said.

“So, Mr. Hunham never even graduated college? Holy shit, you didn’t even finish up somewhere else? Who else knows?”

“Did mom even know about you hitting the guy?” You asked.

Your father nodded. “Of course she knew! She gave me an earful on the phone the first time she called me after I left. It was only Dr. Greene who knew it after that. He’d always believed in me, so he gave me a job. Adjunct faculty: zero respect and even less pay, so nobody batted an eye, and I’ve been at the school ever since.”

“Are you ashamed at how things turned out?” Angus questioned.

“Not at all. I’m proud of my work, I love history, I married the smartest and kindest woman on the planet, I helped raise a spitfire of a girl, I love Barton. Barton is my life now. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

“Then why did you lie to that guy?”

“Because I knew he’d relish the fact that I’m a washout and never left my own high school. And he’d probably repeat that story to everybody we used to know. So, I figured he’s not entitled to my story. I am. “

Angus nodded. “Yeah. Fuck that guy.”

“Exactly. Fuck that guy!”

“Fuck him, I hope his car slides on black ice and crashes into a lamp post.” You chimed in.

“Woah,” Angus gasped.

Your father said your name scoldingly.

“What?” You scoffed. “It was weird as hell when he talked to me about my mom like he knew me.”

“I’ll admit it was strange and unnecessary.” Your father tossed his arm around your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He looked at both you and Angus. “But you’ll keep this quiet, right? No one is to know.”

“Entre nous, sir.” Angus nodded. “Entre nous.”

Your father nodded then chuckled, poking you. “‘Ancient cameras’. Where’d the hell you come up with that?”

“I tried my best!” You whined. After the men ceased in their laughter, you then said. “Can we please get dinner now?”

“Alright, alright.” Your father snorted. “Where would you like to go for your absolutely atrocious food concoction?”

“South Street.”

“I figured.”

And that is where the three of you went. It shouldn’t have surprised you it was packed the day after Christmas, which was also a Saturday. It had to have been a miracle you managed to get in line only when it was starting to go out the door; a few minutes after you arrived, the line had started to curve around to the nearest streetlight.

The diner was filled with life once you got in; families pushing tables together, friends absolutely drunk off their asses laughing, even half of the staff seemed to be enjoying the sheer joy from others. Of course, a few were understandably stressed and annoyed from the number of customers and their behavior.

The three of you were soon sitting at a booth. When Angus sat close to the window, instead of sliding into the seat across from him, you took the one beside him. Leaving your father alone on the other side. To ordinary people, it perhaps didn’t mean anything; but you still felt as if it was a signal.

“I can’t believe they’re still playing Christmas music.” Your father grumbled as The Ronettes sang about a sleigh ride and he slipped off his jacket.

You giggled, copying him. “It was just yesterday.”

“I know, but still.”

“I like this song, thank you very much.”

He held up his menu as if to hide his disgust. You and the boy beside you chucked as Angus said. “I feel like I’ve been here before.”

“You don’t know if you have?” You asked.

“It feels familiar. Maybe when I was a kid?”

“We’d always come here when we’d visit Boston.” You looked at your father. “The owner gave me a free banana split when I turned twelve, he knew us so well, right?”

That managed to pull a laugh out of him. “That he did. If he’s here tonight maybe you could get a free dinner for us.”

You and Angus looked down at the menu before you, and soon enough, an exhausted waitress came by to take your drink orders and lay down silverware. Immediately, you asked for French fries and your favorite milkshake.

“There’s no way that’s going to be good.” Angus pointed out.

“Oh, ye of little faith.” You scoffed.

“That’s not faith, that’s fact.”

“What you’re speaking of is an opinion, not even a theory. If you ever want to make it in this world, I suggest you learn the different between those two before you can even begin to comprehend what an actual fact is.”

“And what is an actual fact?”

“You’re an idiot.”

He smirked despite the fact you insulted him. You also couldn’t hide your own smile. It was apparent from anyone in that room, it was not a smile of victory; it was one synonymous with the feeling inside of your chest as it felt like your own heart would burst forth like light.

Your father had felt this feeling before, so it was not lost on him.

“You seem awfully happy to have your entire statement dismantled, Mr. Tully.” He said to Angus.

The boy looked up, still with a smile but one not as euphoric. “I mean, I wasn’t that serious about it.”

“Oh, and I didn’t think you were. It just astounds me how close you two became in a matter of a few days.” He said. “Wasn’t it only yesterday you both were at each other’s throats?”

You stepped in. “No, that was the first few days, actually. I mean, we were the only kids at Barton after that, so it’s probably best we figured how to deal with each other. I guess we both liked some of the same things too, so that made it easier.”

“Yeah.” Angus nodded.

Your father straightened his gaze between the two of you, but then smiled, getting up from the booth. “I have to use the facilities; don’t go anywhere.”

“No papa,” you teased. “we’re going to go do a line of cocaine with the homeless man a few blocks away.”

“You know, I’m beginning to believe that you’re the bad influence on Mr. Tully and not the other way around.”

With that, he left the two of you by yourselves as he walked to the back of the diner. Once he was gone, you and Angus cackled to yourselves.

“Do you think he knows?” You asked, a hint of concern mixed in with delight.

“I don’t know, probably.” He shrugged, still chuckling. “Is that so bad?”

“I mean…I’ve never had a boyfriend before.” You admitted, smiling shyly.

Even though the rest of the diner was booming with Christmas music and leftover excitement from the holidays, it all fell silent between you two. The boy who was once radiated in the happiness you shared with him, now covered in a shroud of terror.

Well…in reality, he was alarmed, not terrified; yet, that is all you saw.

“Shit I-!” You realized what you had just said. “I didn’t mean-I mean, we don’t have to be together, I just meant that I’ve never had someone like me back when I’ve liked them, and even then, it didn’t happen very often-.”

“-Hey, hey.” He stopped you. “No, I’ve never had that happen either. I mean, I’ve been to all boys’ schools since I was fourteen. I think…yeah, I think I’d like to give it a try.”

“Really?” You felt the weight from your shoulders loosen as your face brightened.

He nodded, glowing with you. “Really.”

You glanced up at the bathroom door, and when there was no sight of your father, you took his face into your hands, pulling him into a kiss. It wasn’t as intense as your previous ones, but not as quick as the one you gave him outside the bookstore.

He pulled away first, and before you could say anything about it, you saw the waitress leave from the corner of your eye. She had brought the drinks, including your milkshake and fries. Turning back towards the table, you immediately picked up a fry and dipped it into the milkshake.

“Oh my god, you weren’t joking.” Angus said with no emotion behind it.

“I know I’m funny, but this I would not joke about.” You talked as you ate. “Try it.”

“No.”

“I’ll kiss you if you do.” You took another fry.

“You’ll kiss me anyway.”

“I’ll kiss you like how the French do.”

“You already do that.”

 “I’ll do something different.”

His eyes grew, and he huffed out a surprised laugh. “‘Something different’?”

“Yeah.” You dipped a third fry. “I don’t know what, but I’ll do it.”

 “Not that you have to, but fine I’ll try it.” Angus reached for a fry, then dipped it into your milkshake and ate it.

Angus’ face went through more arrays of emotions in a short time since you met him. You grinned from ear to ear. “Well?”

“Fuck off.” He tried to hide his smile as he took another fry.

“I’m sorry, what?” You taunted.

“It’s not the best-.”

“-I’m sorry, what?!” You repeated louder, and you both were talking over each other. “It sounds like-!”

“You don’t have to be so-!”

“It sounds like you actually like it!”

“You’re so loud.”

You finished with laughter, and then kissed his cheek. You returned to your milkshake and fries as Angus talked about something funny that happened back in the fall. You can’t remember what he said to this day, because a familiar voice entered your ears as it entered the diner.

Angus kept talking to you, but it was in one ear and out the other as you tried your best not to show your discomfort at the man who laughed a little louder than the rest of the people in the diner. When you thought Angus wasn’t paying attention, you glanced over your shoulder at the entrance.

There he stood; a man around the same age as your father with a woman perhaps ten or fifteen years younger than him, holding a baby on her hip, and clutching her seven-year-old daughter’s hand.

Despite what Andy Williams was singing from the jukebox, this was not the most wonderful time of the year.

Angus tapped your shoulder, and you drew your eyes away to look at him.

“Hey, I hate this song, I’m gonna go change it.” He said. You got out of the booth for him to stand, and once he did you sat back down. Only for him to then say. “Okay, scoot over.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Scoot over.”

“You didn’t even change the song.”

“I changed my mind, it’s not that bad.”

He was bullshitting you, but you scooted over anyway, and he sat beside you. “What’s going on?”

You scoffed. “You’re the one that got up and sat down again.”

“Is that guy Daniel?”

“Angus-.”

“-Tell me.”

“Is he bothering you?”

Both you and Angus looked and saw the man from the entrance stand before you with his hands in his pockets. You dropped your gaze.

“No, he’s not.”

You had no idea what you hated more that night: hearing a man you never met say your mother’s name, or hearing a man you knew too well say yours.

“If he is, just say the word and-.”

“-He’s not bothering me.” You hissed.

Angus slipped his hand into yours as you kept your eyes down, but he kept his trained on the man standing in front of him.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I just didn’t expect you to actually show up.”

You didn’t say anything, so Angus did.

“Could you go? She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He ignored him, still angling on you. “Look, sweetie, you don’t have to, and I get it if you don’t want to, but I’d really like it if you came and meet them. They’re all right here now; Carol, Maria, and Frankie. He just turned one last week-.”

“-Can you just fuck off?” You finally looked at him.

He tilted his head and raised his brows before looking at Angus. “Young man, could you give her and I some privacy-?”

“-No.”

The man looked at you, scoffing. “Jesus Christ, what’d you do to make him so fucking head over heels for you? Was that the issue just now between you two? Under the table action?”

Angus stood. “Fuck you, what’s your problem?”

You pulled on his sleeve, hissing his name and kneeling on top of your seat to try and get him to sit back down. The man continued to taunt him.

“My problem is that you don’t know what’s going on boy, and you’re being a little prick about all of this.”

“Get the fuck out of here or I’ll…”

“‘You’ll-you’ll what?’” He looked over at you. “I can’t tell if you picked the bravest or the stupidest kid to fool around with, Eurydice.”

You were always a strange child growing up. Perhaps it was that there are times in your life you picture music whenever a certain emotion arose within you.

As you heard him say that name, a name that you heard last when your mother was dying in her bed, a name that was only for her to use and her alone…You heard Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns.

You don’t even remember grabbing the stupid butter knife from your silverware, just raising it up above you and believing it would cause any harm. As Angus held you back, the man reached over you to grab your hair.

Chaos ensued for a moment in the diner as you cried out when he pulled the ribbon out of your hair, and both him and Angus engaged in a battle of expletives. Most of the diners held back and watched in shock, while only two of them came up. A man stood between him and Angus, and the wife of the yelling man pulled him away.

“Daniel, what the hell is going on?!” She hissed.

“Yes, Daniel,” all eyes fell onto Paul Hunham, who was behind Daniel. “what is the meaning of this?”

You shrunk back in the booth, Angus hugging you tightly against him as if to hide you from Daniel. Both of you stared at the scene before you.

“Paul…” Daniel nodded, standing taller and holding his wife’s hand.

Mr. Hunham nodded back. “Your Christmas went well I take it?”

“It was fine; yours?”

“Just peachy.” He gave a tight smile, looking around at everyone else. “Family matters everyone, I sincerely apologize.”

Hesitantly, the crowd went back to their own business; or they were at least good at pretending to as they eavesdropped. Mr. Hunham continued.

“Why’re you here exactly?”

“The same as you.” Daniel explained. “Dinner with my family.”

He hummed. “And you thought it wise to inform the child in the scenario but not me?”

“Now wait a minute-.”

“-I assume your wife also didn’t know about this or the letters and money you sent?”

At the mention of her, Daniel’s wife scowled. “Danny, what’s he talking about?”

He shook his head. “Hunham, you should just mind your own-.”

“-Well now you see, I can’t do that, because her mother trusted me to provide and care for her.”

It was only then did Angus Tully understand what exactly had been going on. As the adults fought, he looked down at you in his arms. It was as if it were the first time he had seen you, and it was the first time he noticed that he could not find a trace of Mr. Hunham.

The eyes he thought you had gotten from your mother stared up at him with dread, and when Angus looked back at the man seething with unspoken rage, he saw them there too.

“Look,” Paul sighed. “I don’t want to cause another scene, so let us handle this like men. You will not make contact with her again, and we can walk away.”

He took a heaving breath before responding. “Fine by me. Come on, Carrie.”

Daniel began to lead her away from your booth, but Paul stopped them. “I believe you have something of my daughter’s.”

His eyes trailed down to the ribbon in his hand. He let go of his wife to walk back to Paul who held his hand out. Instead of giving it to him, he turned to Angus, smiling. He handed it to him.

“Keep her on a short leash, boy. She’s got her mother’s mouth.”

With that, he and his wife and children left the South Street Diner. You only pulled away from Angus when he did from you. No tears had fallen onto your cheeks, but that didn’t mean they weren’t stinging your eyes as you tried to keep them at bay.

You took the ribbon from Angus only for it to hang loosely at your side. Paul softened his gaze as he began to put on his jacket.

“I think we should just settle on room service tonight.” He said gently. “I can get them to bag up the fries and let you take the milkshake glass?”

You could only nod, not wanting to look at either of the men with you. You all put on your coats in silence, and Angus, though not hugging you, hovered as Mr. Hunham spoke with the staff; both about not wanting to report the incident, and also on paying extra for you to take the glass.

It was so cold out, and everyone was so tired from not just the events of the night, but the entire day, that Paul splurged on a cab for the three of you back to the hotel.

Angus also didn’t feel shame in trying to hold you hand in front of your father; or…stepfather. You limply held his hand back, but you leaned against him as you sat in the cab, staring at the Boston Christmas lights as the city passed by you.

When the cab made it to the hotel, you led the way in a tired haze to the elevators. It wasn’t just the three of you in the elevator; there was a somewhat large family that piled in, all merry and jolly and reeking of chlorine from the pool they had just swum in.

It was as if God himself was rubbing salt into the wounds, tempting you to lick them.

When you made it onto your floor, you also led the way back to your connecting rooms. There was no ‘Goodnight’ or ‘Can we stay up just a little longer?’ to your companions; you simply opened your door and shut it in their faces.

Setting the milkshake down, you tossed off your jacket and pulled your shoes off. Collapsing on the bed, you looked down at the ribbon still in your hand…and you cried.

[spoopyblues214]

Can I have the Rise boys with a reader that yaps constantly and dosent do a lot of touching other than small acts of hand holding, poking, and just being physically close-? Like can and will talk about anything under the sun, like cats, space, their toaster they named Bermuta whilst being next to Donnie while he’s working, or holding Leo’s hand whilst Helen he’s reading a comic, poking Raphs arms or cheek when he’s doing something, and their head on Mikey’s shoulder while he cooks/draws.

But on the rare occasion they’re silent, like dead silent, not even a hello or good evening just nothing. And they’ll sit down on the ground next to said turtle and lean their head on the turtles legs slash thighs and wrap their arms around them, looking really zoned out or just not there because they had been yelled at or got into an argument with someone else or their parents for being so animated and talking so much.

Also I really love your writing!! Small reminder to rest up and take care of your needs, have some roses for the road :333💐

I'm gonna take this as a headcanon request, and tysm for the request(s) and reminder! You're greatly appreciated. Yapper hcs here we go!

°•.•°

Raph

He doesn't mind one bit, your constant commentary reminding him of when he and his brothers were turtle tots

He finds it really cute, and is sure to listen just enough to keep up with what you're saying

Eventually he starts to prefer listening to you yap about your day over his music when he's working out

When you start poking him it makes him laugh, opting to lift you instead of the weights, which gets you squealing

The fact it brings him so much joy makes it all the more heart wrenching when you end up sitting on the floor in his room, quiet with distant eyes

When you grab his leg, his eyebrows knit together, confused even as he finds it a little endearing

He'd press for an explanation on what had you so quiet, voice quiet and gentle, and your answer would make him sad

If it was your parents, he'd offer a sleepover, preferring you stay at the lair then at home when things were turbulent

Leo

You and Leo could go on and on and on if other things didn't get in the way, he was just as talkative

That also meant he was especially attentive laughing and nodding and giving input

Even when he was reading or trying a new trick on his skateboard, he'd still have something to add when there was a pause for him to

He also rather enjoyed the little bits of affection youd offer, sitting right next to him when he'd read or on movie nights

The first time you're silent his beak wrinkles, as the quiet is the most unwelcome thing in the world

He's much more aggressive in asking what's wrong, refusing to drop it until you told him what happened

Once you would, he'd go off immediately, saying the person who told you to shut your trap was a loser and boring and all sorts of other things

Then, after getting through his own rant, he'd raise an eyebrow considering you're still attached to his leg, mischievous mind working before he'd start walking with you hanging on, trying to make you laugh

Donnie

He likely struggles with it the most, but the fact you speak so much means he doesn't have to worry about small talk

Even so, he mentally catalogues every topic of conversation, able to keep up with anything and everything you spew

He feels a little bit of accomplishment everytime he can add input based on things you've mentioned before

As for your less typical signs of affection, they matched him perfectly; he greatly appreciated being able to focus on his projects while you're nearby

But then one day you're not saying anything after a surprising amount of time

When he swivels in his chair, you're on the floor, and immediately he's set into a panic, asking what happened

He'd be pretty similar to Leo, insisting you tell him, and then scoffing and bad mouthing the plebeians who dared to raise their voice at you

As for your clinging to his leg, it's a little odd, but he never comments on it, just standing in place until you're done, maybe ruffling your hair

Mikey

Mikey loves talking to you, listening to anything and everything that comes from your mind

It makes him laugh, why wouldn't he enjoy it, especially when you hold his hands or sit in the kitchen while he cooks

Even when he's feeling creative, you still choose to sit with your side against his, more intent on whatevers caught your attention that day then what he's working on

When you started poking him, though, he'd do it right back, which would end in a tickle fight that he'd never lose

When you're quiet, it's a different story, and he's sensitive to your feelings

You hug his leg, eyes unfocused, making him frown and meet you on the floor, sitting with his knee up so you can keep hugging him

He wouldn't push on what's wrong, instead asking if you wanted to talk about it, and if you did he'd listen and offer his sympathies

If you didn't want to talk about it, he'd sigh but nod, and rub a hand over your back, talking himself to fill the quiet when you had nothing to say

[txttletale]

could you elaborate on your thoughts on boom and 73 yards ( i agree with you i am just struggling to put into words why.)

boom was whatever. the initial conceit of the doctor being trapped and having to stay calm was really cool! i really like that. the ambulances that euthanize you if you're not deemed worthy of medical care and the tacky chatgpt hologram ghosts were both really cool ideas. it just doesn't stick the landing for me, the twists are contrived and fall apart given any thought whatsoever. like what the fuck were any of the soldiers Doing if there just straight up weren't any enemies. it's a twist that sounds cool to say more than it has any meaningful impact on the story or the stakes. i guess 'the arms manuifacturer created a fake conflict' is the intended emtional stakes there but that would hit like a hundred times harder if it was an actual conflict between two factions and people were dying, right? like if anything sending a christian militia to blow themselves up tae fuck on a nowhere planet instead of presumably killing actual living people is an improvement, surely?

also the resolution was dumb as fuck lol i am a huge hater of power of love saves the day shit not because i'm a cynical misanthrope but because it never fails to make me say 'oh so i guess nobody ever loved anybody before lol' and this is no exception like if one chatbot can shut down the whole operation beacuse he loves his daughter are we meant to believe that no other parents or hell nobody who loved anybody else for any reason died in this fake war before? it's cheap and schmaltzy and unearned. anyway the first twentyish minutes of this are all-time great doctor who and gatwa/gibson were incredible in it but it absolutely falls apart into a confused pileo f some of the worst Moffatisms at the end

73 yards on the other hand was incredible! obviously like it requires you to approach it with a different mindset to most of doctor who, right, doctor who usually furnishes you with the big explanation scnee where the doctor says 'well the ghosts were actually particle wave vectorforms created with the necros radiation from the god-king's techsceptre' or whatever--this is the usual narrative mode of sci-fi--but 73 yards is fantasy, right, this is the twilight zone, this is 'wouldn't that be fucked up?'. i interrogate the technical and logical specifics of boom so much when i think about it because that's the language boom is speaking, boom is framing itself within this logical, a-to-b worldview, the satisfying click-together puzzlebox. but 73 yards is a nightmare or a folk tale, right? kate stewart¹ says it herself, 'when faced with the inexplicable, we make up rules and apply them to it'.

so yknow reading it that way it all clicks together beautifully, right, (apart from russel t davies' embarassing swing and miss at Political Commentary in the middle. we get it davies you wrote years and years. we know. trust me we know). the doctor and ruby disrupt the binding circle, free mad jack, and are punished -- the doctor, as perpetrator, with being banished (perhaps in jack's place) and ruby with her worst fear coming true constantly, until ruby defeats mad jack, re-sealing him and fixing what she broke, at which point the circle rewards her by reversing the punishments. and the core horror i think is very effective and unsettling! the idea that there is something that someone could say to turn everyone against you, the closest people to you in your life, your own family, the institutions that are meant to deal with the exact problem you're having--that's fucking terrifying! and yknow i think especially as an autistic trans lesbian something that speaks to me a lot

so yeah. i think that boom establishes its logics and framework and then trips and falls onto its face while 73 yards does the same and then makes perfect use of them. that said i think in 20 years people who are autistic about doctor who will be like 'did you know in the 2020s there were two episodes in a row where the doctor caused the entire plot to happen by stepping on something' and thjatll be the main thing they're remembered for

[calware]

dear calware, I'm not sure how much you know on the topic of Doc Scratch, but I was wondering, why is the common consensus around him that he's like a creepy pedophile? after rereading his messages with Rose, he seems more tone deaf and weird than a fully on creep. is there something I'm missing?

scratch isn't "literally" a pedophile (or a hebephile, which is the accurate term for this situation) which we know because of this

but at the same time, that is still the Way he's written

(i'm sorry if this following explanation is confusing.... i really do not have the right wording to describe it) it's almost like a metaphorical representation. he's a child predator in every way but the actual sexual attraction. the way he's written references the behavior of actual child predators and is meant to signal to the audience that this is the Kind Of Character he is. it's a literary tool(?)to tell the audience that he is literally taking advantage of characters in various ways (as well as straight up abusing damara) while at the time comparing it to child sexual abuse

but if you do want literal actions on his part, he does Literally groom young girls and they are his targets for manipulation

also, directly from the author commentary (which. is not 100% serious at times. but i do think it sometimes offers some actual insight):

I know I just said a bunch of stuff about [DD] maybe being a creep. But look, this is just my OPINION here. I don't think he's actually being creepy about this. I think he has a genuinely parental attitude toward Aradia and wants to see her succeed in her violent and underhanded schemes. See how he wants them to conduct their business with efficiency? He's way too professional to go Full Doc on these girls.

Another peek at Rose suggests she's still at it with her creepy uncle, Doc Scratch.

Then you have a few beats of conversation which bring Equius to mind, such as the creep-factor

[Dirk and Equius] have this creepy-guy streak running through them, with strange or offputting interests, and seem to get a quiet kick out of making others uncomfortable through demonstrations of these fascinations. [...] I'd say these self-examined qualities are just drawn out, isolated, and inflated both for dramatic effect, and also as critical write-up of those qualities existing within many human beings in general, which I would like to think is grounded in a creative process involving a certain degree of humility about some of this bullshit. I like all these characters here, but that doesn't mean I think their unpleasant qualities are good. It just means I am harnessing and heightening those qualities for creating strong villainous portraits.

We start getting the sense that the entire purpose of this conversation, from Doc's vantage point, is just to passive-aggressively manipulate Rose into peering directly into one of his cursed testicles. Wait, my youth pastor is literally barking like a dog right now for some reason. Probably because I put him on a leash and tied him to a post in the backyard. I guess I fucked up again? I mean one of Doc's seeds.

Maybe it's fair to say I have a higher than average tolerance troubling content. But even I have to admit to shuddering a little when I read Doc's creepy lines toward Rose. I think Doc's creep factor toward girls is most likely channeling part of Caliborn's personality, which almost seems to revolve around his horrid attitude toward women. For Caliborn, this weird combination of wrathful misogyny, yet fixation and obsession with certain girls, is obviously central to the type of real-world profile he's meant to portray. But when his personality is more muted among the collective in Doc's head, those qualities come across as more "restrained," "polite," and "flattering," which arguably just makes it all creepier. The result is a creepy dude profile that also exists in the real world, sort of adjacent to the Full Caliborns out there. There seem to be many stripes of this kind of unfortunate male behavior, which all exists in a broader family of sub-Caliborns. The Docs, the Eridans, the Cronuses… They're all sketchy in different ways.

Doc sitting back just to "watch" is another creepy Equiusism. Remember that was a thing with him.

I wonder what Jade would think if she knew she had in her possession since childhood one of Doc's testicORACLES!!! Oracles. The word I meant to say was oracles, not anything else. Anyway, like I was saying, how would Jade react if she realized every time she played with one of her beloved toys, she was actually fondling this weirdo's plump, juicy oracle. I know you think my youth pastor may have something to do with this peculiar outburst, but you're wrong. I "dismissed" him recently, because he told me with great pride that I learned everything he had to teach me. I don't need anyone to keep me from shoving my foot in my mouth anymore, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know. Now let's watch this grieving teen receive a demonic message from an evil puppet's big fat nut.

bonus commentary from book 6 that has nothing to do with the post:

We're reaching a specific kind of story partition. Not the end of an act, but the end of a year. Also an end of "disc," which is a kind of meta-partitioning I just made up for the purpose of closing the book on two years of content, as well as being a good meta-device for introducing the Doc sequence we're about to get into in the next book.

"next book"...... sad

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

How do you analyze so good I'm really impressed and honestly wonder if I can learn from you

It's a skill, so the good news is, you can practice and get better at it!

Read A Lot/Gain Context

Analysis often means making comparisons or drawing from external context - one of the best things you can do if you want to be better at analysis is to try to cram your head with as much knowledge as possible. The time period, culture of origin, and where the author slots into those are usually major influences on a work (in Homestuck's case, much of it is a direct commentary on the internet culture it emerged from, and missing that part of it can drastically influence how the story reads).

Also important are the works the author themselves are inspired by. You've likely heard some variation of "nothing is original." We're actually really lucky with Homestuck in that regard, as the work is highly referential, and you can glean a lot by looking at what it references (for example, if you watch Serendipity, one of Karkat's favorite movies, which is titledropped during the troll romance explanation, you will understand Karkat so much better). This applies to things like mythological allusions - you'll hardly know why it matters that Karkat is a Christ figure if you don't know what the general outline of the Christ story is, nor will you pick up on the Rapture elements of Gamzee's religion or the fact that Doc Scratch is The Devil, etc. The key to picking up a lot of symbolism is being aware that the symbols exist.

And last, it helps to read a lot of media and media analysis so you can get a better understanding of how media "works" - how tropes are used, what effect language has, what other entries into the genre/works with similar themes/etc. have already done to explore the same things as the piece being analyzed is doing - and what other people have already gleaned and interpreted. I've mentioned before that many people seem to find Homestuck's storytelling bizarre and unique when it's actually quite standard for postmodernism, the genre it belongs to. But you're not going to know that if you've never read anything postmodern, y'know? I also often prepare for long character essays by reading other peoples' character essays - sometimes people pick up on things I miss, and sometimes people have interpretations I vehemently disagree with; both of these help me to refine my take on the matter.

Try to Discard Biases/Meet the Work Where It Is

Many will carry into reading media an expectation of what they want to get out of it. For example, one generally goes into a standard hetero romance book expecting a female lead, a male love interest, romance (of course), and a happy ending for the happy couple. If the book fails to deliver these things, a reader will often walk away thinking it was a bad book, even if the story told instead is objectively good and interesting. We actually see this a lot with Wuthering Heights, which receives very polarizing reviews because people go into it expecting a gothic romance, when it's really more like a gossip Youtube video spilling the tea on some shitty rich people (and it's really good at being that).

There's nothing necessarily wrong with this when reading for pleasure and personal enjoyment, but it presents a problem when attempting to analyze something. There's a concept called the "Procrustean bed," named after a mythological bandit who used to stretch people or cut off their limbs to fit them to a bed, that describes "an arbitrary standard to which exact conformity is forced." Going into a media reading with expectations and biases often results in a very Procrustean reading - I'm sure we've all seen posts complaining about how fanfic often forces canon characters to fit certain archetypes while discarding their actual character traits, etc.

Therefore, when reading for analysis, it's generally a good idea to try and discard as much bias and expectation as possible (obviously, we are never fully free of bias, but the effort counts) - or, perhaps even better, to compartmentalize those biases for comparison while reading. For example, Hussie talks at length about what they INTENDED Homestuck to be, and, while reading, I like to keep Hussie's words to the side while I try to experience the comic fresh, seeing what choices were made in accordance with Hussie's intentions, or where I think Hussie may have fumbled the messaging. At the same time, I try to let the work stand on its own, set in its proper context.

I'd say this is the number-one problem in fandom analysis. For example, people hear from the fandom that Eridan is an incel or a nice guy, so they interpret everything he says and does to fit that belief, or ignore any contradictory evidence. Or they fall for the character's façade that's meant to be dismantled by the viewer. Some works are fairly shallow and accessible, wearing all their meaning on their sleeve (or are Not That Deep, if you prefer meme-talk), and problems arise when a work is, in fact, That Deep, because someone biased towards the former will discard evidence that a work is the latter. This isn't exclusive to HS - it's happened in basically all of my fandoms - which is a statement to how easy it is to fall into this way of thinking.

Even without knowing that Hussie had coming-of-age themes in mind, for example, characters will talk about being kids and growing up. Knowing that Hussie has explicitly said that that's one of HS's themes serves as extra evidence for that interpretation, but the work itself tells you what it's about - if you're willing to listen to it.

Even If the Curtains are Just Blue, That Still Means Something

This is the next biggest fandom stumbling block - thr insinuation that when things in a work are put into the work without more explicit symbolism, that that means they're a discardable detail. This one is more about making a mindset shift - details aren't discardable, even if they don't appear to have been made with the explicit intention to mean something. Everything kind of means something.

First of all, whether or not the curtains are Just Blue is often highly dependent on the work. For example, in something made in large quantities with little time, staff, and budget - say, for example, one of the entries into the MCU's TV shows - there likely isn't too much meaning behind a choice of blue curtains in a shot (although you'd be surprised how often choices in these constrained environments are still very deliberately made). In a work like Homestuck, however, so terribly dense with symbolism and allegory, chances are, the blue curtains DO hold some special meaning, even if it's not readily apparent.

However, even in cases where a choice is made arbitrarily, it still usually ends up revealing something about the work's creative process. Going back to our MCU example, perhaps the blue curtains were chosen because the shot is cool-toned and they fit the color grading. Perhaps they were chosen because the director really likes blue. Perhaps the shot was filmed at an actual location and the blue curtains were already there. Or, even, perhaps the blue curtains were just what they had on hand, and the show was made too quickly and cheaply to bother sourcing something that would fit the tone or lend extra meaning. These all, to varying degrees, say something about the work - maybe not anything so significant that it would come up in an analysis, but they still contribute to a greater understanding of what the work is, what it's trying to say, and how successful it is at saying it.

And this applies to things with much higher stakes. For example, Hussie being a white US citizen likely had an effect on the B1 kids being mostly US citizens, and there was discourse surrounding how, even though they were ostensibly aracial, references were made to Dave's pale skin. Do I think these were deliberate choices made to push some sort of US superiority; no, obviously not. But they still end up revealing things about the creation of the work - that Hussie had certain biases as a result of being who they were.

Your Brain is Designed to Recognize Patterns, So Put That to Use

So with "establish context" and "discard expectations" out of the way, we can start getting into the nitty-gritty of what should be jumping out at you when attempting to understand a work. One of the most prominent things that you should be looking for is PATTERNS.

Writing is a highly conscious effort, which draws from highly unconscious places. Naturally, whether these patterns are intentional or unintentional is dependent on the author (see again why reading up on a work's context is so important), but you can generally bet that anything that IS a pattern is something that holds significance.

For example, Karkat consistently shows that he's very distraught when any of his friends get hurt, that he misses his friends, even the murderous assholes, that he's willing to sit them down and intervene on their behalf, despite all his grandstanding to the contrary. We are supposed to notice that Karkat actually loves his friends, and that he's lying when he says he doesn't care about them.

Homestuck is very carefully and deliberately crafted; if something comes up more than once, it's a safe bet to assume that you're supposed to notice, or at least feel, it. Don't take my word for it:

Basically, [reusing elements is] about building an extremely dense interior vocabulary to tell a story with, and continue to build and expand that vocabulary by revisiting its components often, combining them, extending them and so on. A vocabulary can be (and usually is) simple, consisting of single words, but in this case it extends to entire sentences and paragraph structures and visual forms and even entire scenes like the one linked above. Sometimes the purpose for reiteration is clear, and sometimes there really is no purpose other than to hit a familiar note, and for me that's all that needs to happen for it to be worthwhile. Triggering recognition is a powerful tool for a storyteller to use. Recognition is a powerful experience for a reader. It promotes alertness, at the very least. And in a lot of cases here, I think it promotes levity (humor! this is mostly a work of comedy, remember.) Controlling a reader's recognition faculty is one way to manipulate the reader's reactions as desired to advance the creative agenda.

But this applies to less deliberately-crafted work, too; for example, if an author consistently writes women as shallow, cruel, and manipulative, then we can glean that the author probably has some sort of issue with women. Villains often being queer-coded suggests that the culture they come from has problems with the gays. Etc. etc.

This is how I reached my conclusion that Pale EriKar is heavily foreshadowed - the two are CONSTANTLY kind to each other, sharing secrets, providing emotional support, etc. etc. It's why that part of my Eridan essay is structured the way that it is - by showing you first how consistently the two interact in suspiciously pale-coded ways, the fact that a crab is shown in both Eridan's first appearance AND his appearance on the moirallegiance "hatched for each other" page becomes the cincher of a PATTERN of the two being set up to shoosh-pap each other.

A work will tell you about itself if you listen. If it tells you something over and over, then it's basically begging you to pay attention.

Contrast is Important, Too

Patterns are also significant when they're broken. For example, say a villain is constantly beating up the protagonist. Here's our pattern: the hero is physically weaker than the villain. In a straight fight, the hero will always lose.

And then, at the mid-season two-parter, the hero WINS. Since we've set up this long pattern of the hero always losing to this villain, the fact that this pattern was disrupted means that this moment is extremely important for the work. Let's say the hero wins using guile - in this case, we walk away with the message that the work is saying that insurmountable obstacles may have workarounds, and adaptability and flexibility are good, heroic traits. Now let's say the hero won using physical strength, after a whole season of training and practicing - in this case, we say that the work says hard work and effort are heroic, and will pay off in the end.

In Homestuck, as an example, we set up a long pattern of Vriska being an awful, manipulative bitch, and a fairly remorseless killer. And then, after killing Tavros, she talks to John and admits that she's freaking out because she feels really bad about it. This vulnerability is hinted at by some of her earlier actions/dialogue, which is itself a pattern to notice, but it's not really explicit until it's set up to be in direct contrast to the ultimate spider8itch move of killing Tavros. This contrast is intended to draw our attention, to point out something significant - hey, Vriska feels bad! She's a product of her terrible society and awful lusus! While it's shitty that she killed Tavros, she's also meant to be tragic and sympathetic herself!

Hussie even talks about how patterns and surprises are used in tandem:

Prior to Eridan's entrance into the room, and even during, the deaths were completely unguessable. After Feferi's death, Kanaya's becomes considerably more so, but still quite uncertain. After her death, all bets are off. Not only do all deaths thereafter become guessable, but in some cases, "predictable". That's because it was the line between a series of shocking events, and the establishment of an actual story pattern. The new pattern serves a purpose, as a sort of announcement that the story is shifting gears, that we're drifting into these mock-survival horror, mock-crime drama segments, driven by suspense more than usual. The suspense has more authority because of all the collateral of unpredictability built up over time, as well as all the typical stuff that helps like long term characterization. But now that the pattern is out in the open, following through with more deaths no longer qualifies as unpredictability. Just the opposite, it would now be playing into expectations, which as I said, can be important too. This gear we've switched to is the new normal, and any unpredictability to arise thereafter will necessarily be a departure from whatever current patterns would indicate.

Patterns are important because they tell you what baselines the work is setting - what's normal, what's standard, what this or that generally "means." Contrast is important because it means something has changed, or some significant point is being made. They work in tandem to provide the reader with points of focus in the story, things to keep in mind as they read, consciously or unconsciously.

Theme

I'm talking about this stuff in pretty broad and open terms because stories are so malleable, and so myriad, and can say so many things. There are stories where horrible cruelties are painted as good things - propoganda is the big one, but consider all the discourse around romance books that paint abusive/toxic relationships as ideal. There are stories where the protagonist is actually the villain, and their actions are not aspirational, and works where everyone sucks and nobody is aspirational, and works where everybody is essentially a good person, if sometimes misguided.

This is, again, why outside context is so important, and biases need to be left at the door. For example, generally speaking, one can assume that the protagonist of a children's cartoon is going to be an aspirational hero, or at least a conflicted character who must learn to do the right thing. However, there are even exceptions to this! Invader Zim, for example, features an outright villain protagonist - a proud servant of a fascist empire - and for a lower-stakes example, the Eds of Ed, Edd, n' Eddy are the neighborhood scammers, constantly causing problems for the other characters with their schemes.

Thus, how do we determine what any particular narrative's stance on a given topic is? It's a difficult question to answer because every narrative is different. If I say something like, "the things that bring the protagonists success in their goals are what the narrative says are good," then we run into the issue of villain/gray morality protagonists. To use moral terms like "hero" and "villain" instead runs into the problem of defining morality within a narrative in the first place. But you have to draw the line somewhere.

So that brings us to themes.

Now, as with a lot of artistic terms, "theme" isn't necessarily well-defined (this isn't helped by the way the word is used colloquially to mean things like aesthetic, moral of the story, or symbolism). Wikipedia says: "In contemporary literary studies, a theme is a central topic, subject, or message within a narrative," but this is still very broad and hard to work with, so I'll give it a shot.

A theme is what a work says, beyond the literal series of events. Sometimes a theme is obvious - the theme of Boy Who Cried Wolf is that if you become famous for lying, you won't be believed when you tell the truth. Sometimes a theme is one of many - for example, Disney's Cinderalla says that kindness and virtue will eventually be recognized and rewarded, and that cruelty is interlinked with ugliness. Sometimes a theme is unintentional - for example, how Disney's body of work tends to villainize queer-coded characters. Sometimes context and the passage of time changes the theme - for example, Snow White originally held a message of hope for wartime families that domestic normalcy would one day return, but is now seen as anti-feminist as it appears to insinuate that a woman's place is in the kitchen, and her happiness is in marriage to a man. And sometimes a theme is not something you agree with.

In any case, a theme is a meaning to be gleaned from the text, more broad and universally applicable than the text itself. After all, we humans have traditionally always used story to impart meaning; our oldest epic, The Epic of Gilgamesh, contains within it several themes, most famously that of accepting one's mortality. It's startling, really, how applicable the story is to this day, even if specific details have become obtuse or unsavory to a modern reader.

This is, again, why it's so important to engage with a text on its own terms, in its own context, with as little bias as possible. A story's themes are not necessarily apparent, and commonly implied rather than stated outright, and approaching the story with expectations can easily lead to a Procrustean twisting of the facts to fit those expectations. A theme should emerge to the analyzer out of the reading, not the other way around.

Identifying theme gets easier with practice, and largely comes down to identifying patterns within the narrative (alongside looking at context and symbolism, of course). What does the narrative consistently touch base on? Are there any references; is there any symbolism? What does the story deem "normal," "good," or "bad"? How are ideas developed, and why? Why did these events happen, and are those motivations echoed anywhere else?

Homestuck is very complex and tackles many topics at once, and explaining why it's a coming-of-age would basically require a whole second essay, so I'll use a simpler and more popular example (like I've been trying to do) - let's say, Shrek.

The most obvious theme of Shrek is that beauty does not equate goodness, that one mustn't judge a book by its cover. The opening sequence is LITERALLY Shrek ripping out pages of a fairy tale book to use as toilet paper, and the movie ends with Fiona finding that her happiest, truest self IS as an ugly ogre. Shrek's main character conflict is that people immediately judge him as cruel and evil because he's ugly, and the characters' lowest points occur because Fiona is similarly insecure about her ogre half, considering it unlovable.

But there's other stuff in there, too. For example, if you know that Dreamworks and Shrek were founded after a falling out with Disney, then the beautiful, sanitized city of Dulac, with its switchback queue and singing animatronics add to this theme of a direct refutation of traditional Disney fairytale values, mocking them as manufactured, inhuman, and even cruel in the way that they marginalize those who don't fit an ideal of beauty. Again we see the opening sequence - defacing a fairytale - as support for this, but also the way that Dulac is displacing fairytale creatures. There's a moment where Gepetto literally sells Pinocchio, which can easily be read as a commentary on the crass commercialization and exploitation of fairy tales Disney likes to do.

And then, of course, there are lesser, supplementary themes. Love being a powerful positive force is one - Donkey is able to rally Shrek after he truly reciprocates Dragon's love for him (which echoes the theme of not equating goodness with beauty, as Dragon is still big and scary), and it's true love's kiss that grants Fiona her happy ending.

And then there's stuff that's unintentional. There's all this work done about how beauty =/= goodness, but then they made the villain incredibly short, which is a traditionally unattractive physical feature. So, does that mean that ugly things can be beautiful unless that ugliness is specifically height?

Sometimes, authorial intent does not match up with result - but in those instances, I think the most is revealed about the author. Modern Disney products tend to be very cowardly about going anti-corporation and pro-weirdness, despite their usual feel-good tones and uplifting themes - and that says a lot about Disney, doesn't it. That's why I think it's still important to keep authorial intent in mind, if possible, even if they fumble what they say they've set out to do.

Obviously, Lord Fuckwad being short doesn't REALLY detract from the overall message - but it's still a weird hitch in the themes, which I think is interesting to talk about, so you can see where personal judgement and biases DO have to be applied. There are two options here, more or less - either one believes that Shrek is making an exception for short people, who are of the Devil, or one believes that the filmmakers did a bit of an oopsie. Barring an outright statement from the filmmakers, there's no way to know for sure.

We can say a work has very complex themes when it intentionally explores multiple ideas very deeply. We can say a work has shallow themes when it doesn't have much intentional meaning, and/or that meaning is explored very lightly. The labyrinthine storytelling of Homestuck, with its forays into mortality, morality, and growing up, chock full of symbolism and pastiche and allusions, is a work with complex themes - especially as compared to the average newspaper comic strip, although they ostensibly share a genre.

We can say a work has very unified themes when these themes serve to compliment each other - the refutation of Disney-esque values, and love as a positive driving force, compliment the main theme in Shrek of not judging books by their covers, of beauty not equating to goodness. Ugly things are worthy of love, and those who push standards of beauty are evil and suck.

Similarly, we can say a work has unfocused or messy themes when the themes it includes - intentionally or not - contradict, distract, and/or detract from each other. Beauty has no correlation to goodness... unless you're short, in which case, you are closer to Hell and therefore of evil blood. To get a little controversial, this is actually why I didn't like Last Wish very much - there are approximately three separate storylines, with three separate thematic arcs, going on in the same movie, none of which particularly compliment each other - so the experience was very messy to me, story-wise, even though it was pretty and the wolf was hot. This is why we feel weird about Disney pushing anti-corporate messages, when they're a big corporate machine, or why it's easy to assume Homestuck was written poorly if you don't like Hussie - we want themes to be coherent, we want context to be unified with output.

Tone

Tone is somehow even harder to define than theme. It's like, the "vibe" of a work. For example, you generally don't expect something lighthearted to deal with the realistic, brutal tragedies of war. Maybe it'll touch on them in light, optimistic ways, but it isn't about to go All Quiet on the Western Front on the reader. By the same token, you don't expect fully happy endings out of the melodrama of opera, or frivolous slice of life from something grimdark.

Tone, too, is something people often wind up Procrusteanizing, which makes discussion difficult if two people disagree. If I read Homestuck as unwaveringly optimistic, with its downer ending the result of an author fumble, I'm pretty much going to irreconcileably disagree with somebody who reads Homestuck as though it's always been a kind of tragedy where things don't work out for the characters. Since it's even more difficult to define than theme, I'm not even really going to bother; I just felt like I had to bring it up because, despite its nebulosity, it's vital to how one reads and interprets a text. Sometimes I don't have a better answer for why I dislike a certain interpretation other than that it doesn't suit the work's tone. I generally try to avoid saying that, though, because it winds up smacking of subjective preference.

In summary... analysis is about keeping everything in mind all the time! But i swear, it gets easier the more you do it. Happy reading!

[yuseirra]

Ch 161~

Can't draw so much during the week..!

More commentary about 161..

I'm actually convinced Fatal and Mephisto should be Kamiki's song?? I think some things hint of it.

and that he DOES really care about Aqua.

and that he does have to do with Sarutahiko, Amenouzume's husband(although this part is a speculation)

More stuff in the read more:

(first written in another language and chatGPT helped me translate it... I can't write things like this twice ;v; it's a great world here. so convenient~)

Honestly, it's frustrating and a bit agonizing; what is this even about? The plot is stressful, but...

Still, being able to focus like this... I guess it’s a good thing to find a work that hooks you and makes you think deeply in some way.

LOL, it also means I’m living a life where I have enough time to care about a manga, even though I’m currently in a pretty tough spot.

This manga, whether it's in a good or bad direction, seems to be driving me crazy in its own way.

If I’m disappointed, I can always go read something else, (I even got permission from someone to draw a Persona fanfic fanart, but I’ve been too hooked on this manga to do it.. that fanfic was so good.. I need to do it sooner or later..).

But I was so confident about my analyses. Like, really... I’m usually good at picking up on these kinds of things? This manga is great at psychological portrayal, and it was amusing to analyze that, There are just too many things sticking out for me, and things feel uneasy.

It’s not about the pairing... It just keeps bothering me... Am I really missing the mark on this? I’m usually good at sensing these things...

Without the movie arc, this development would be fine, but that arc is sandwiched in there, and I interpreted the character based on that too...

Honestly, every time I listen to the songs, I get this strong feeling like, "This isn’t Aqua." The kind of emotions in these songs, it's not him that's singing them. It's the dad. I immediately posted about it when I first heard it in July. As soon as I heard it, I thought, "This is it," and got a gut feeling.

I really want to feel that emotion again.

Even if Kamiki does turn out to be a serial killer, I still think these songs could describe his inner state.

I think we’ll get some explanation in the next five chapters or so, even if it takes a bit longer.

Also, the expression Kamiki makes when Aqua stabs him is so genuine. Until that moment, he had been smiling, but...

If that expression was because he suddenly felt threatened with his life, it’s a bit pathetic. But... I don’t think that’s the case. What I really pay attention to are the emotional flow and expressions.

When Aqua says he wants to watch Ruby perform, the smile on Kamiki’s face... it’s soft. That’s... definitely a look of affection. It’s not like, “Oh, I've won him over!” or, “Yes, I’ve convinced him!” I interpreted it as Kamiki having paternal love, and there was a scene that backed up that idea earlier. I’m sure he really likes Aqua.

That’s not a bad expression. It’s more like, "Yeah, you wish to see Ruby, don't you. Go ahead, watch her. Keep living" (Which makes me wonder, is he really planning to harm Ruby? If he harms her, maybe he plans to do it after the Dome performance? But even that doesn’t make sense. Does that mean Aqua would have to come back to stab him AGAIN after that takes place?? Does it really add up to his logic for telling him to go watch her?)

Aqua says Kamiki will destroy Ruby’s future, but...

How exactly is he going to do that? Hasn't this guy literally done nothing? If they're talking about the Dome performance, at least that should go off without a hitch, right? So at least until then, Ruby would be safe?? So, Kamiki isn't planning to harm Ruby now at least, right? Even with that weird.. logic that he proposes (I hope he's lying about that tbh)

Then when Aqua smiles and says something like, "Haha, but I’ll just kill you and die with you," while pointing the knife at him again...

Kamiki’s expression at that moment really stands out, and it’s not like a twisted look of being frustrated about things not going his way. It’s not anger or annoyance he's feeling. It’s the same shocked and despairing expression we saw in chapters 146 and 153.

Aqua seems to have no clue what kind of person his father really is, huh? He can’t read him at all.

Honestly, from the way Kamiki speaks, I get the impression that he’s actually quite kind. He’s not saying anything too wrong.

Remember the scene where Ruby gets angry because people were talking carelessly about Ai’s death? Kamiki probably knows about that too. I think Aqua and Ai, and Ruby and Kamiki, are quite alike in nature. Kamiki might’ve felt a lot of grief over Ai at that time. I do believe he loved Ai.

The phrase, "People don’t want the truth," is pretty painful, especially if you think about Ai. That’s why Ai lived telling lies. Isn't Kamiki thinking about what's happened to her, then? By bringing that up? He should have felt it, loving/watching a person like her and what unfolded.. Ai died because of the truth that she had kids with him. Ugly fans like Ryosuke and Nino couldn't take her being less than perfect. Wouldn't this have hurt Kamiki too? The fact that they loved each other(At least Ai did genuinely, we know that) was unwanted. People could not accept that, and that's one of the reasons why they had to break up.

From the way Kamiki talks, it feels like he genuinely doesn’t want his son or daughter to go through that kind of pain.

I think Kamiki has a pretty good nature. When you look at how he speaks, it’s gentle, and he seems to genuinely care about Aqua and knows a lot about him. Maybe he’s been watching over him from afar for a long time? He probably even knows who his son has feelings for.

It really feels like Kamiki is trying to persuade him: "I’m fine with dying. But you, you have so many reasons to live, right? Shouldn’t you return to the people you care about?"

And, the way Kamiki reacts after Aqua stabs him also shows it. He’s visibly agitated afterward. His expression noticeably shifts to panic and darkness.

Wait... stop it, don’t do this! That’s what he says.

The way he’s talking to Aqua in that moment.

It’s not like, “How dare you?” but more like, “Aqua, please don’t do this.”

It really seems like he doesn’t want Aqua to die.

He’s really shocked by it.

From his expressions, he seems more shocked by Aqua getting stabbed than by his own fall, like he didn’t even know how to react properly. He's being grabbed onto but he isn't looking at the hands that are grabbing him, his line of sight is on Aqua there

The final expression he makes can seem really pathetic, but...

Oh man, I think that’s the truth of that situation.

And it makes sense because Ai dreamed of raising her kids with this guy. I think he could’ve been a really great father who adored his kids... at least until the point they separated. He was just really young back then.

Doesn’t this guy really love his kids? Even without the movie arc, there have been hints of his concern for them.

I’m not trying to interpret him kindly just because I particularly like or find this character attractive.

If he’s a serial killer psychopath, then yeah, he should die here. When I first got spoiled, my reaction was completely merciless. "Well, he should die if he's like that," I said. But...

I don’t think that’s the case. It really seems like he cares about Aqua.

Oh, and Kamiki’s soul being noble in the past is mentioned, right?

So, he was a good person before?

Well, I guess I wasn’t totally off in reading his character? LOL.

Does that mean he could be a fallen god?(could be a stretch, but there IS a lyric in fatal about fallenness!!!)

Sarutahiko is often described as a "noble" and "just" god, so it’s quite possible that Kamiki’s true nature is based on Sarutahiko, the husband of Ame-no-Uzume = Ai.

That couple was very affectionate, and according to the Aratate Shrine description, they even go as far as blessing marital relationships. Those gods really love each other. In that case, Ai being so fond and loving of Hikaru also makes sense. It could explain why she asked her kids to save him...

So, can't “Fatal” be his song? Maybe he’s fallen from grace?

The lyrics in "Fatal" say things like, "What should I use to fill in what’s missing?" Could that be about human lives? But did he really kill people? How can you save someone after that? That’s why I don’t think he went that far.

"Without you, I cannot live anymore"

“I would sacrifice anything for you”

This isn’t Aqua. This is Kamiki.

Would Aqua do that much for Ai? He shouldn’t be so blind.

When I listened to "Fatal," I immediately thought of "Mephisto" because the two songs are so similar in context.

They’re sung by the same narrator, aren’t they? That made it clear what Kamiki’s purpose was, which is why I started drawing so much about him and Ai after that.

He keeps saying he’ll give up his life and that he wants to see Ai again. This isn’t Aqua! These feelings are different from what Aqua has.

At first, I thought because Ruby = Amaterasu, with Tsukuyomi having shown up, and Aqua perhaps having relations to Susanoo (he’s falling into the sea this time, right? LOL) I wondered if Ai and her boyfriend’s story was based on the major myth of Izanagi and Izanami, since they’re so well-known.

That myth is famous for how the husband tries to save his wife after she dies, though he fails in the end.

The storyline is similar to Mephisto’s, so I thought, "Could this be it?"

And then I realized Sarutahiko and Ame-no-Uzume's lores also fit really well. Ai thinking Kamiki was like a jewel when they first met is similar to how Ame-no-Uzume saw Sarutahiko shining when they first met. Sarutahiko guiding Ame-no-Uzume is similar to how Hikaru taught Ai how to act. They even had descendants that have a title that means "maiden who's good at dancing" The two also fell for each other at first sight. The shrine the characters visit in the story is supposedly where those two met and married. If they REALLY are those gods in essence, It feels like something went wrong with the wish because one or both of them became twisted.

Anyway, I think Kamiki was originally noble but fell from grace, and it’s likely that Ai’s death was the catalyst.

But I’m not sure if he really went as far as killing people.

What is Tsukuyomi even talking about? I’ve read it several times, and I still don’t fully understand.

I really hope she's wrong because… killing others to make Ai’s name carry more weight? That doesn’t make any sense. What does “the weight of her name” supposed to mean?? I don't think that's something that should be taken just at face value, I feel like there's more behind this idea.

What kind of logic is that? And on top of that, I can’t understand why Ai’s life would become more valuable if Kamiki dies. It just doesn’t follow.

Why would he even say that?

He must be really confident... Does he think he’s someone greater than Ai?

Even so, how does it connect?

I read two books today, because I started wondering if my reading comprehension has dropped. Thankfully, I’m still able to read books just fine. It’s not like I can’t read, you know? I’ve taken media literacy classes and pride myself on not having terrible reading comprehension.

I tried to make sense of what exactly the heck this may mean, and I think.. if it were to mean something like, “I’ll offer my life as a sacrifice to Ai,” I’d at least get that. That kind of logic, in a way, has some practical meaning.

Kamiki talked about sacrifices? tributes? offerings? in chapter 147. I really remember certain scenes clearly because I’ve gone over them carefully. In that case, if Kamiki dies, then the weight or value of his life would transfer to Ai, and that would “help” her, right?

If the story is going in that direction,

when I look at “Mephisto” and “Fatal,” I can see that by doing this, Kamiki would have a chance to either save Ai or get closer to her. At least that makes some sense.

But is it really right for Ai to ask someone to save Kamiki, who killed others? As soon as the idea of it came up, I knew something was up.

Because of what Ai's wanted, I think it’s possible that Kamiki didn’t actually go that far. In the songs, they talk about gathering light and offering something, but they don’t say anything about killing people… Kamiki said he’d sacrifice his own life. People around him may have died, but…

Kamiki’s true personality doesn’t seem like the type to do that… And looking at his actions when Aqua was stabbed??

He hasn’t shown any direct actions yet, so I still don’t know how far he’d actually go.

It’s not that I don’t believe Tsukuyomi’s words entirely,

but I don’t think the conclusion is going to be something like, “Ai should’ve never met Kamiki.”

Every time we see Kamiki’s actual actions, there’s this strange gentleness to him, and that’s what’s confusing me.

The more I look closely, the weirder it feels, and something about it just bothers me. If Kamiki were truly just a completely crazy villain, I’d think, “Oh, so that’s who he is,” and I wouldn’t deny it.

But each time, I start thinking that maybe Ai didn’t meet someone so strange after all? Ai liked him that much, so on that front, it makes sense to me. I want to believe that’s the right conclusion. I mean, doesn’t what he says sound kind? Isn’t he gentle?

No, but seriously, when Kamiki listened to Aqua’s reasons for wanting to live, I thought his expression was warm. It didn’t seem like some calculated expression like “according to plan” like Light Yagami. It felt more like a fond, affectionate expression. I draw too, you know. I pay a lot of attention to expressions. This character often makes expressions that really stand out.

It’s like he’s genuinely trying to convince Aqua not to do anything reckless. Maybe I’m being soft on Kamiki because he’s Ai’s boyfriend? But actually, it’s not like that?

I mean, I’m the type who’s like, “Anyone who did something bad to Ai should die!!” It’s because he’s a character. If this were a real person, I wouldn’t so casually tell someone to go die or say such strong things.

But… he seems like a good person.

+It’s a small thing, but why did Kamiki drop his phone while talking about Ruby? Ppft If you drop it from that height, it’d probably crack. Was he trying to look cool? (It’s an Apple phone, huh.) Is he a bit clumsy? Well... since it looks like him and Aqua are about to fall into the sea, maybe it was a blessing he did so. The phone might be saved after all. If he manages to climb out of there, he could contact someone with that phone.

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

*enables you* what happened with TLJ 👃

After all these years I still can't properly find words to explain how deeply betrayed I felt after the credits rolled and I shuffled out of the movie theater with everybody else. There was a TON of hype surrounding this movie, an absolute fuckton. I only saw positive reviews about it, the cast, the director, the plot. I got excited to see where Rian Johnson & Co. would take the ST.

The only remotely negative comment I saw before watching the movie was a fandom blog saying they didn't like what happened to Poe. Since this blog was about racism in fandom, I knew something was off. That was my only warning.

And y'know, it was like, five minutes in? Ten minutes? And Poe makes a "Yo mama" joke at Hux? I used to go into movies with an open mind and spent days gathering my thoughts about them because I was always slow to react, slow to gather my thoughts into coherent strings of words. It's how I enjoyed Michael Bay productions and JJ Abrams' love affair with lens flare. I never got actively angry with a movie I was watching, and I was fucking angry by the time the movie ended. I still remember texting a friend while standing out in front of the theater because I was so confused. The response to TLJ was so positive so why did I come out of the movie so frustrated and confused and dissatisfied with the whole thing?

It's been years and we all know how this movie divided the Star Wars fandom and just... broke Fandom Spaces in a way I never expected. We all know what TLJ did and didn't do, and how TROS provided the final nail in the coffin that was the ST experiment. But back then, all I saw was positive commentary about the themes and messages of TLJ, how it portrayed failure and the dangers of putting someone like Luke Skywalker on a pedestal, how the Force was female, how... important it was to see Poe get characterized as a hotheaded hotshot who needed to be demoted, slapped around, and stunned in order to learn some kind of lesson, how important it was to see Finn lose everything he gained in TFA so that he could relearn how not to be selfish or something while starring in a fucking incredibly tone-deaf B plot, how Rey... I'm not sure exactly what because she didn't need training anyway and then spent most of her time trying to bring Ben Swolo back to the light????? Rose was so promising as someone who grew up under the FO's thumb but she and Kelly were fucking abandoned by Disney so I don't know if Rose existing was actually a good idea if it meant giving Kelly unending trauma. Mark slipped up by calling Luke "Jake" and expressing his displeasure in front of cameras, and I was so fucking baffled and alienated by his character after knowing how his story ended in ROTJ that I couldn't connect with whatever lessons I and he are supposed to be learning. JJ set up Snoke like a mystery box and Rian just yeeted him off without so much as a fucking explanation so what was the point of that? Hux was a fucking joke. Phasma was barely there. The only character that Rian cared about was fucking Kylo Ren and Adam says years later that he was never supposed to get a redemption arc anyway.

Like, this was the movie everyone hyped up? This was the movie that didn't answer any questions left unasked by TFA and didn't bother to move forward with character development for any of the known characters? I spent money watching a slow space chase that ended on a planet made of salt and killed off Luke for Reasons? Am I stupid? Am I dumb? Am I a peasant incapable of understanding the masterpiece Rian directed, this so-called Best Star Wars Movie Since ESB?

But I couldn't say anything. I couldn't be dogpiled for hating such a empowering movie for women, a diverse and inclusive movie that had the likes of John and Kelly and Oscar. I couldn't be lumped in with the Star Wars dudebros with their raging misogynistic and racist takes on the movie, the cast, Kathleen Kennedy and Lucasfilm, Disney, etc. I couldn't be seen as one of them just because I didn't like a movie that I should like, I'm supposed to like. So I sat in silence, read meta, witnessed the fucking catastrophic explosion around some wild ass AO3 fandom essays written by a racist OG member of OTW about Finn/Poe, saw hate piled on black and bipoc fans, saw r*ylo fans come for John and John clap back at them, just saw an absolute fuckton of hate, and so by the time TROS came around I just... checked out. There was no way JJ could salvage what Rian had done and I was right. TROS was a corporate-run soulless garbage end to the Sequel Trilogy, but it ended just as The Mandalorian finished its first season and regained a lot of good will with this small story about a lonely Mandalorian bounty hunter who encountered a Force-sensitive Baby Yoda.

And then TBOBF/Season 3 of the Mando Show happened, just like how TLJ happened. All the promise, all the unanswered questions of the previous movie/season, all fucking dropped or provided with the worst, most unsatisfying answer. I'm sure others have found better answers and can live with what Star Wars gave us, but I haven't been able to. TLJ came out years and years ago, and I am still so bitter today. I'm still so bitter because TFA had such an incredibly compelling setup with such promising characters, and then TLJ Did That.

I got so heated while writing this. I'm still so mad. I'm still so bitter. I bury my head so deep in the sandbox I built for myself so that I don't have to think how Disney is twisting and contorting all these Mando'verse shows so that they all eventually lead to the ST, their precious hot potato child that just... didn't have to end the way they did if they actually had a fucking plan and fucking stuck the landing. I'll give the MCU this - their Phase 1? They fucking stuck the landing. I fell off the train tracks and haven't really watched the MCU since Captain Marvel, but at least they had a fucking plan and didn't fucking derail themselves like Disney did with the Sequel Trilogy.

I could be nice to people who like this movie but I'm not going to be. They can be nice on their own blogs.

Man, I can't even watch Knives Out or Glass Onion because my blood starts boiling. Just. TLJ did a lot to ruin what I hoped would be a positive and creative connection with Star Wars, and it took the Mando Show and the 2 minutes where Din and Luke locked eyes on the Imperial light cruiser to bring me back.

I'm gonna stop before I get way too heated for sleep.

[evilfloralfoolery]

Daggers and Deception- Part 6

Shit gets weirder and weirder. This part is already over 2k, so I'm gonna cut it in half.

*This is plotfuckery. There will be much more snzfuckery in other parts. As always, if you enjoy my writing and writing of my fellow plotfuckers, we kindly ask for reblogs or commentary. In particular, I wanna thank @undersixskies for being SO motivating and listening to all of my bullshit lol.*

____________________________________________

Indigo paces the perimeter of the overgrown courtyard in quiet observance.  Amongst the patches of dead grass are distinctive patterns of nocturnal creatures, the small footprints of raccoons, the familiar stamp of buck’s hooves.  

And something dreadfully familiar that has no business being there. A myriad of prints, some recognizable and some not.  A cacophony of haphazard footsteps, restless and agitated.  Indigo furrows his brow, glancing over the rims of his glasses. The threshold did not appear to be crossed and yet, it had most certainly happened.  Had the time come for more assertive measures, to ask for permission?

He tugs his phone free of his pocket and thumbs through the contacts, finger hesitating just above Reginald ’s number.  No.  Not yet.  He would handle this himself.  

For now.

The walk back to the house is a short one, the blustery wind doing a number on his unbound hair as he navigates the creaking porch and makes his way into the library.  Within its confines is comforting familiarity, the scent of weathered leather and paper, the varying colors of dull brown and blues easing his mind into a greater clarity.  He walks the edges of the shelves, reading titles, tracing fingers down aged spines.  Dickens, Hemingway, Faulkner, Fitzgerald.  All of which he knows and has read.  Some of which he’d very much like to toss into the crackling fire.

He chooses a volume of Whitman’s poetry from the shelf and settles himself into the wingback chair near the fireplace under the pretense of relaxation.  But his mind does not allow him to completely immerse himself in the text.  He glances towards the window, ever vigilant, unable to unwind.  

Vacation, indeed. Hmph.  Nonsense.   

In the doorway, the hulking shadow of a frame he has come to know quite well in the past few days approaches and Indigo flicks his gaze back to the text on the page to create the illusion of an in-depth study of the words.

“Hey.”

“Good morning,” he says cordially, turning the page with a careful sifting of fingers without looking up.

“Look,” Grimm says.  “I’m sorry I barked at you last night.”  He runs a hand through his unbound hair with a sigh.  “But you were acting fuckin’ weird, okay.” 

Indigo closes the book with a gentle thump of leather and sets it aside, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair, legs crossed, back straight, hands clasped atop his knee. An interesting way to begin an apology, but he suspects such is the norm for this man. “I explained myself and acted upon that explanation.”

Grimm has managed to dress himself in a black T-shirt with some kind of emblem stitched atop the right pec, the fabric stretched tight across his chest and arms.  The pants are equally as fitted, worn denim that has become ripped in spots, frayed at the bottoms and tattered at the seams.  And no shoes to speak of.  The man looks disheveled, yet comfortable.  

Ruggedly attract---

Mind your thoughts, Solaris.  

“A bit cold to go about barefoot, is it not?”

Grimm glances at his feet.  “You know how hard it is to tie boot laces with one hand?”

In spite of himself, Indigo chuckles.  “Yes, well. I suppose it would present some difficulty.”  He nods to Grimm’s arm, which is currently sans sling.  “How is your shoulder, then?”

“Actually feels pretty damn good,” Grimm says.  “Not sure how, but I’ll take it.”

“Perhaps,” Indigo says, “it was my ‘poisonous’ pasta dish?”

Grimm winces.  “Yeah, okay. I get it.  Like I said, you were acting weird.”

Clearly.

Indigo adjusts the height of his glasses with an unconscious push of a finger and regards Grimm through the lenses.  The man is agitated, clearly uncomfortable with whatever he might truly wish to say.  This was more than difficulty with a simple apology.  This was something altogether different.  

“You seem troubled,” Indigo says at last.  

The words are more invitation than observation and the desired effect is achieved when Grimm runs a hand through his dark hair, glancing at the rug upon which he stands.

“Not enough sleep, I guess. Still fighting this fucking pseudo-cold bullshit that can’t decide if it wants me to be sick or not.”

“And yet, you just said you felt quite well.”  Indigo clasps his hands together.  “What ails you?”

“Fuck if I know,” Grimm says.  “It’s--- nah, it’s stupid.”  Grimm waves a hand. “I was probably tired as hell.  Hard to sleep much with this damn arm.”  

“Indulge me,” Indigo says.  “I do promise not to judge you.”

Grimm hesitates, runs his hand through his hair again, and stares into the distance beyond the window.

Indigo nods encouragingly. “Do continue.” 

Grimm looks as if he would rather not, both agitated with himself and at odds with was probably a code of sorts.

“Please.” Indigo softens his tone to a more compelling manner of coaxing. “I wish to hear what you have seen.”

The other man contends with the urge to speak for several more moments before sigh-growling in defeat.

“Must be some PTSD shit because I thought I saw something .  Someone.  Standing in the corner.  The shadows and shit were just right and I could have sworn--”  Grimm shakes his head.  “Forget it.  It told you it was stupid.”

Except that it wasn’t.  Indigo sits in false expectation, poised and calm, as if he hasn’t the slightest idea what Grimm might be speaking of.  If it is as he fears, lecherous lasagna shall be the least of his neighbor’s concerns.

“Did it speak to you?” Indigo’s voice is quiet in comparison to the crackle of the fire, a coaxing gentility that seems to soothe Grimm’s concern over how ridiculous his claim might be.

“No,” Grimm says.  “It laughed.”

Indigo’s eyes narrow to slits of blue-green.  “Is that so . . .”  

The conversation has grown precarious, but there is no sense in ending it now.  If it as Grimm says, discretion will become difficult, if not impossible.  But where to begin?  How much is allowed for discussion?  The phone in Indigo’s pocket vibrates with an insistent buzz and he slides it free, glancing at the screen.

What timing.  Then again, his mentor was uncanny with nearly all things.

“A moment, please,” he says to Grimm.  

Not that it matters if Grimm will grant him permission or not.  Indigo rises to his feet and strides to the nearest exit before the other man can contemplate an answer as he thumbs the “receive” icon with a swipe.

“Solaris,” he says.

“Ah, Indigo.”  Reginald ’s robust voice is as clear and cheerful as ever.  “Have you managed a bit of rest?”

“I’m afraid not,” Indigo says.  “There have been . . . complications.”  

Glancing over his shoulder, Indigo nudges the door to the sunroom shut, closing off the curious confusion of Grimm’s face.

________________________________________

“Where you going now?”

Grimm has managed to put on his boots somehow between the 20 minutes of conversation with Reginald. He follows him out of the library and down the decrepit steps, out past the dreary fountain full of stale water and leaves and into the overgrowth of the mockery that has the nerve to call itself a “garden.” 

Indigo huffs a sigh. Despite Reginald's encouragement, Indigo is reluctant to involve Grimm in this nonsense. It is too soon to reveal that which should be tested and cultivated slowly, but time and circumstance have not allowed for these things.  And honestly, why would they ever?  Indigo grumbles to himself.  Well, the gods certainly had a peculiar sense of humor.

“Hey!”  

Grimm is now in front of him, having moved faster than Indigo could track.  He blocks the way with the entirety of his frame, imposing and immovable as any wall, shoulders squared and chin lifted.  

“You gonna stop for a minute and explain to me what the fuck is going on with you?”

Indigo comes to an abrupt halt and fixes his gaze on the other man, a hand upon his hip, lines of irritation creasing his brow.

“Whatever I might be doing is of no concern to you,” Indigo says.  “You needn't understand. Why must you be so damnably persistent?”

“Because something smells like bullshit,” Grimm says.

Indigo adjusts the fit of his glasses with the push of a finger.  “Perhaps that might be your mannerisms.”

Grimm grunts.  “You’re a mouthy fuck, you know that?”  

“And you are a tiresome meddler,” Indigo retorts in his best icy, dismissive tone.  “Now, if you will excuse me--”

“Wait.”  Grimm’s voice is fraught with defeat and weariness. He steps aside, posture assuming a more neutral stance, the flare of his energy dwindling to normalcy.  “You know what was in my room, don’t you?”

Indigo pauses, gaze steady.  “I do.”  

A rolling gesture of the other man’s hand.  “Well?”

The fact that Grimm’s awareness had been keen enough to hear as well as see “him” was troubling.  Or enlightening.  According to Reginald, it had been a sign. The sign. 

“Come on, Indy.  If there’s some weird-ass dangerous shit going on here, don’t you think I oughta know about it?”

“Indigo,” he corrects sharply. 

 It wasn’t as if Indigo hadn’t the permission to speak of such things.  The opportune moment was now his choice, but he had not expected it to rush upon him quite so swiftly.  Barely 72 hours had passed.  Hardly enough time to acclimate.  Within the tree line, wind rustles the dying leaves like a clatter of skeletal fingers, the intrusion of biting cold a warning of impending unpleasant weather. Or something altogether different.

“I feel it is my duty to warn you that all is not as it seems here,” Indigo confesses.

Grimm cocks an eyebrow.  “Well, no shit, Sherlock.” 

Indigo rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Grimm.” 

He pauses, takes a moment to remove his glasses, and slips them into the pocket of his shirt. “Very well. I haven't the time for ruminations. Before I begin my tale, I must ask for your patience while I secure a few things.  We cannot speak before it is done.  And you mustn’t interrupt, Grimm.  Allow me to do as I will, no matter how peculiar my actions may seem.  Do you understand?”

A slow nod is not exactly the firm confirmation he had hoped for.

“Your word, Grimm,” Indigo says.  “And your silence.”

“Okay, “Grimm says with a shrug.  “Whatever.”

“Not ‘whatever,’ “ Indigo says.  He fixes Grimm with his best serious gaze and extends a hand.  “Your word.”

Fingers engulf his own, rough and warm, and give his hand a firm, gentle squeeze.  The protective energy of Grimm’s grip crackles through his blood, sweeps a chill from his skin, and Indigo uses far more exertion than necessary not to gasp aloud. 

No. Surely not.

Not this crude, yet astute behemoth with tattoos covering every inch of his arms and crawling up one side of neck. Not this abrasive, blunt, and entirely uncouth man. There must be a mistake. It had to be a mistake.

But no matter how he wishes for someone, anyone else, this was the hand that had been dealt. The hint had been present upon first sight, but when coupled with a vow of sincerity for such a simple task, it is undeniable.  

And this man hadn’t the faintest idea about any of it.

Indigo very much wishes he could extricate himself from the possibility of what might be coming.

 “I give you my word and my silence,” Grimm says.

“So it is, then,” Indigo says.  He releases Grimm’s fingers with a slow relaxation of his hand.  “Now.  Close your eyes and turn your back to me.” 

Grimm opens his mouth as if to protest, but a raise of Indigo’s eyebrows sees it shut again and he does as he asked without question or protest, eyes closing and presenting Indigo with the broad planes of his back and shoulders.  

“Do not react,” Indigo says.  “No matter what you hear or what you might wish, remain as you are.”  His voice drops to a softer pitch as he taps Grimm’s left shoulder.  “Be silent.”  And then his right.  “Be still.”  He presses a palm to the center of his back.  “Be invisible.” 

It is not until Grimm’s breathing slows to a steady, rhythmic pulse that Indigo walks around him to the tree line.  He pockets his glasses and tugs the cuffs of his sleeves to his elbows.  Things must be in proper order before any sort of explanation can begin.  

(TBC....)

[an-actual-attack-helicopter]

Book 6, Episode 2: Love, War, and Mushrooms Analysis/Commentary

"You certainly didn't go to any of my Crownguard Bonding Barbeque game Night Extravaganzas"

I am adamant that Soren mostly threw these hilariously named parties so Corvus would come. As far as I know, there are only two Crownguards it could be referring to. Or maybe he just made that name up in this scene to make a point. So actually I'm not quite as adamant as I suggested in the beginning of this paragraph lol

This scene follows one where Janai expresses frustration with the Six Horns' masks. She sees Karim in her crown's reflection; she's associates her crown with Karim's obsession with tradition. That's just my interpretation.

lol sorghum. apparently that is a type of plant. ig i can see how they got the words mixed up.

beep beep beep gaydar

Still waitin' on a explanation for Ezrans animal telepathy. We all know the dragon prince doesn't have such a soft magic system lol.

mushpal stimmies. seriously they are like the Autism Creature's cousin or something.

"no homo" my ass

No, I'm not transitioning to male, or female. I now identify as THIS ⬆️

Janai is down below her subjects in a small theatre while Karim is elevated far above.

Janai begins her speech by acknowledging the struggles and mistakes her and her people have made. She is humble and empathetic. Karim, however, speaks of violence, supremacy, and of course, faith. He's like the equivalent of an abusive priest, using faith to justify his actions. Meanwhile, Janai states that Karim uses doubt - or rather, fear - to his advantage. Just like how politicians will convince people to fear a demonized "other" to be seen as a messiah.

Bro really said "sure, more people disagree than agree with me, but like...I'm right." Bro just destroyed democracy with the power of Because I Said So.

Still trying to figure out this one. Guess he is rolling the Key of Aaravos and marking stuff. When it landed on Sky he marked Duren territory. The crown lookin thing is on Katolis, triangle for Southeast of Lux Aurea, rectangle for the Storm Spire, and circle for Umber Tor. Is this some sort of game I don't know?

[bloodycyrano]

Gifts I think the DAO companions would appreciate, outside of giftable in game items! (Pt1, I think this will be a long post if not sectioned)

Sten-

Incense and expensive tea, possibly imported. He talks about how he hates the smell of Ferelden, and misses home; Tea and incense being the most notable scents that stick out to him.

Cookies, or a good recipe for cookies. Everyone in the Fandom has had the dialog where Sten reveals that he enjoys cookies, and that in his homeland, there is no such thing. I think he would greatly enjoy a recipe to be able to bring such a thing back with him- Even if he may not be able to make them himself at home. My memory is fuzzy on qunari custom, but I don't think he'd be particularly allowed to bake.

A wardog of his own- I don't think he'd be permitted to keep it, upon return to the qun. But he has immense respect for Barkspawn, and I think if he were here in 2024, he'd be a great dog dad. I think he'd probably give it to his closest companion upon his return, but he would keep a detailed sketch of it with him always. He'd probably give it a specific title in his native tongue.

This is sort of a separate headcannon, but I think in a modern AU, he'd really like pumpkin spice lattes.- It's always the ones you would never expect.

Shayle-

Obviously, we know they like crystals. They like being pretty, and *sparkling*. So it's not too farfetched to assume they would appreciate gold ore or other shining metals fitted to some of their stone bits- Sort of like.. Magically grafted on with heat? Morrigan could weld them, or I'm sure Sandal could potentially do it.

I think, while they couldn't really read themselves, I think if you brought them books and such, they would enjoy hearing you read it to them. Especially if you manage to find some old records of their own lineage after the orzammar quest line.

I think they would also enjoy being given I big, stone bowl to keep shiny trinkets in- Like a crow, almost. Crystals, cute pebbles, coins, keys, etc. Pretty things for them to look at.

Leliana-

She would love it if you wrote her a poem, regardless of what it was about. I think she'd just be so happy you thought of her and wrote something lovely- I honestly think she'd love it even more if it wasn't the best quality. After all, that would mean you were inspired by her to write something of which you had no prior experience and still tried your best. She'd think it was cute.

I think she'd like it if you gave her one of your own personal favorite books or fables, with little notes on your commentary and theories. She'd love that, honestly.

A ceramic nug. No explanation needed, she loves Nugs. I've got animals I love, too. And if someone gave me a ceramic or plush critter of my choice, I'd be over the moon.

A little on the weird side, I think she'd like a type of porcelain harlequin doll. I can't think of the specific type, but they don't make them the same way anymore.. they're usually from overseas in Germany or Russia or France, you know? The ones that are really glossy and have beautiful line work in the paint? I feel like you found one in the denerim marketplace, imported from Orlais, and it would remind her of another experience she had there or even just of her time as a bard. After all, they weren't *all* unpleasant memories.

Alistair-

A golem doll. Like a little poppet. I don't think it's rare dialogue, but the other day is the first time I noticed it since I first played the game rented from a family video over a decade ago, so.. Yeah. Point is, Alistair mentions in front of "Wonders of Thedas", that Arl Eamon (I think) once bought him a little golem doll as a child, and how he adored it and wondered if there would be one like it at the wonders of thedas.

A griffon figurine. He's a Grey Warden, I think he'd like it. The wardens have always been his real home, and it's truly where he belongs. I think a memento of that is something he'd hold dear.

A book of poems about honoring fallen soldiers. I feel like it may bring him to tears, and perhaps make him confront some extra grief after ostagar, but perhaps it could also bring a sort of comfort. Maybe he isn't the most religious, maybe he has a bit of trauma from the chantry.. But I think he still prays, if only for the ones he's lost.

Again, I think he'd like a war dog. I'll never let him take Barkspawn, but he'd love a pupper of his own. If you gave it to him as a puppy to raise and train all his own, he'd probably be overjoyed.- Off topic, but I headcannon that all companions to the wardens have an extended lifespan, and live and die with their humanoid counterparts if they don't die in battle, kind of like the animal companions do with the avatars in ATLA. Far fetched, and backed by absolutely no real lore as far as I know, but I like to think it's true.

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Dirubael

This entry happens to be pretty clear on what the animal looks like, so there's a strong similarity between the different depictions this week -- the main difference is how each artist interprets what the hell is going on with these horns.

If you're not sure what this is about, you can find an explanation and the rest of the series so far at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting.

The entry people are working from this week can be found here:

And if you want to join in for next week, that creature's entry can be found here:

And now, art in chronological order as it was posted:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) has designed an antelope-like creature that almost passes as normal if you're just scrolling past... and then you look at it properly and see that it has horned eyestalks. That is wild and I love it. (Fencing with those horns must be a challenge since its eyes are also moving around, but I assume it's adapted for that kind of thing.) More commentary to be found in the linked post.

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) went more of a rhinocerous direction, resulting in this nifty-looking creature. The thick, sturdy build here plus the tusks probably make this one pretty formidable in a fight even if it didn't have long, mobile horns. Dangerous beast. Also take a moment to admire that background, and consider clicking on the linked post for more details on inspiration & sources. (And thank you for providing alt text.)

@pomrania (link to post here) has another creative interpretation of what these mobile horns might actually be -- they're actually clusters of quills that can tense up into horn-like structures when the creature needs them. I think that's quite clever, and I really like the choice to show it fencing on the left there.

@ectocs (link to post here) has something that looks kind of like a boar and kind of like an ungulate... I'm getting "dog", too, mostly from the legs, but that might just be because that's the type of quadruped I spend the most time around. Solid Nonspecific Mammal either way. Anyway, the stand-out here is the interpretation of its mobile horns -- they're a set of mantis-like forelimbs, which happen to rest against the sides of its head to give the appearance of horns. I like this interpretation a lot. Check out the linked post for more information, sketches, and (I enjoy this) a recreation of this creature in Spore.

@citrvsdrake (link to post here) has also given us a very solid Nonspecific Mammal that's a kind of of boar / buffalo / horse blend. This one has traditional horns, but the way they are positioned communicates quite clearly that they are mobile. Fairly threatening expression, too, so let's scroll away quickly. (Welcome, Citrvsdrake!)

@wendievergreen (link to post here) notes that their interpretation has ended up going in the direction of "necromantic experiment", which... yeah, it definitely does look like that. We've got a few different animals blended together for the shape of its body, then a boar's skull with some additional spikes for the horns, and a spiky, exposed spine down its back. Honestly, if your necromancers aren't making stuff like this, what are they even doing with their time?

@cheapsweets (link to post here) has joined a general consensus of "boar-like creature with long legs like a horse", which really is a sound interpretation of the text. Traditional horns, and the linked post talks a bit about the difficulty of such an anatomical feature (as well as other things, go check it out). That's a pretty good boar's head, in my opinion. Also impressed by the fact that CheapSweets is doing this with a brush pen.

All right, to the Aberdeen Bestiary:

As I'm sure is completely obvious from this picture, this creature is the Yale.

(Unrelated to the U.S. university as far as I know -- I checked, and the university appears to be named after Iâl in Wales, while the creature's name probably comes from the Hebrew word for "ibex". Though according to Wikipedia, the university does feature some decorative yales in various places, presumably as an obscure pun in a "canting arms" sort of way.)

This is another one of those mythical creatures that didn't quite make it into the modern consciousness -- an ibex that fences with its horns is maybe a bit too low-key to compete with manticores and dragons for attention.

Also, I have to note that I think it's interesting how the medieval artist decided "jaws of a boar" didn't include tusks. The only visual indication I see here is maybe those jowls?

[copperbadge]

So I had therapy yesterday and I was kind of holding off on responding to all the very welcome and helpful commentary about therapy on the "what do you even do" post, so that I could just have the meeting and then process all the data when I'm not quite so sleep-deprived. Which was a good plan, that went fine. This morning I thought I'd answer the emails I got and the asks I could answer privately, and then do a writeup of the rest as a response (there's a long explanation for why I would do it that way but it's in the writeup so I'm not going to replicate it here just yet).

Upshot is I did the writeup but I realized it's mostly just me talking about me. Yes, I do break down the various reasons people have for attending and benefiting from therapy, but mostly as it relates to my situation, and I'm not sure that's something people want to read, like I'm not sure what the point is. The desire is to acknowledge you guys, to say thank you and that I appreciate all the information, especially because it's hard shit to talk about, but I don't know that it does that either. I suppose in a sense it provides people with a kind of closure because they were speaking To Me and presumably have an interest in my response, but I'm not sure if dumping all my thoughts on therapy back at you is optimal.

In any case it could use some proofing, so I've got some time to think about it, but if I don't end up posting it I do want to say thank you and I appreciate the time everyone took to share their thoughts. And I did get homework for this week so at least there'll be something to talk about next week. :D

[exoticalmonde]

The Evealia Guide Through Babel (event) - Part I

Wow, who would've ever thought that I have more enthusiasm to talk about the Babel event and that, which has to do with the Sarkaz race, than I do with literally anything else.

I have 0 excuses. So I shall provide none.

This is the personalized (read: for me) guide through the Babel event in Arknights, with a provided story explanation/synopsis and a run-down on the event characters/media.

Gorgeous medals by the way, there's something within me that screams and years for them. Maybe it's because I've been playing this game for two, running towards three years and I'm attached to the Sarkaz. I'm attached to Theresa and Babel and can't wait to see how this event could possibly change my opinion of Theresis and Manfred.

(Warning: The following post will contain spoilers for the event, as well as commentary on my experience. Thank you for reading.)

With all that said, I think I'm going to go through the characters first. We're happy to welcome four new Operators who would happily join Rhodes Island: Lutonada, Odda, Aroma and Ascalon.

Only one of them we already know about from the Main Theme Chapter 13; Only two of them will be relevant to the story.

So let's start with the one we won't be mentioning ever again - Lutonada.

A new 4-star juggernaut defender from Bolivar. You can see her unique in that she is the first 4-star character of this class. Alongside her are Mudrock, Penance and Vulcan. To be fair, it's a spicy- I meant, it's a pricy class, with most of the characters costing over 30DP to deploy; making it tricky to use early if you don't have at least two flag Vanguards and difficult to leave alone if they're not Mudrock.

Juggernauts are special also with their inability to be healed, making it detrimental for them to have their own type of healing in their kit. Lutonada heals when an enemy she is blocking dies. That makes her S2 the most important skill, because according to the numbers - it charges pretty fast and its mechanic is basically: >Pull enemy towards self via magnets >Block >???? >Heal Pretty easy to use and I, as a fan of Empowered Attacks, love her S1 because those sweet, sweet 230% damage on an attack for every 3 seconds on her M3 sound very nice.

Should you build her? Personally, the downside to her is that as a 4-star she has significantly less HP than Penance and Mudrock, but you can practically ignore the 200HP difference between her and Vulcan. The same can be said about their attack and defence (ALL of this at E2).

Dr. Eve will always support your simple, carnal desires above all else. You want her? Did you pull her? Then build her. To bypass the Juggernaut's inability to be healed, you can always snatch either a Perfumer, Angelina (E2 perk), Suzuran (S3), or Blemishine (S2) who all have passive healing on all allies under some conditions, or you can use a Bard supporter like Heidi, Skalter and Sora.

Her Module is kind of... Eh? For all the cost you throw, she recovers 20% HP when an enemy blocked by her dies. It does sound like a lot, but I'm not sure if it means exactly what I think it does. I wanted her but didn't get her. Hope the little ratscal joins my ship eventually.

NB: Forgot to mention - her push force is 0 for her S2 and so far it doesn't seem to change with Masteries. Keep that in mind.

---

Next up we have Aroma, this is our new 5-star Blast Caster - on the same road as Corroserum and Ifrit.

The difference between her utility and Corroserum's (I won't talk about Ifrit, because she is practically the best, most aggressive Blast Caster you can find) is within the effects of their abilities. Numbers aren't really that important here, because they're both 5-stars.

What is important to note is that while Corroserum's S1 is practically unwanted because of his 10s stun duration, his S2 is helpful because it silences the enemies for 5 seconds max at M3.

Meanwhile, Aroma deals extra ARTS damage on her S1 + she deals additional damage to AERIAL targets. It's pretty helpful but practically feels useless, because rare are the times we have aerial targets line up perfectly and for long enough to fit inside her range. Unless she is used to taking down aerial targets when they float.

Her S2 just does additional damage to enemies who have been Levitated - props to her talent. The other people who levitate so far are Chongyue, Irene, Ho'olheyak, Quanipalaat and Odda.

I... am... Not sure if her Module expands her range like the other Blast Casters'? But it sounds like it should, it would be unfair otherwise. I'm leaving it for you to decide if you want this, but it's surprisingly easy to build material-wise.

---

Which brings us to our second before last Operator, the free character in the Event whom you can get with just 40% of all the currency you'll be getting. It's a long story.

First in many things, Odda is an unseen before Earthshaker Guard. That role is kind of like Dreadnought guards, but they can block two enemies from the get-go and they do an AOE attack each basic attack.

Him, I actually got all the tickets to and dropped Ash to build. He has an empowered attack for his S1 which ends up at a chargetime of whooping 2 seconds!!! It extends the splash area as well with .5 tiles, so... He does damage of 1.5 tiles additionally.

Unlike Lutonada, Odda's S2 has Levitate with a weight of 3 or less for 0.5 seconds on each splash attack.

He doesn't have any Modules so far, but I personally have gotten attached to him through the story. I want to mention that unlike what I've noticed, his story says he is a Messenger from Kazdel. I thought it was interesting this bean with a gargantuan hammer is intended to... run around as fast as he can.

---

And finally, I almost forgot, we have Ascalon - our very dedicated Ambusher Specialist. At least that's what is said about her, but I heard that practically even Ethan is better in certain aspects.

I didn't like Ascalon when we first met her, even though her design was amazing.

Passively, her talent slows the Movement Speed of enemies and they take Ascalon's ATK as ARTS damage per second for 18/25 seconds (E1/E2). In her E2 she gets more ASPD and gains even more (wow, 8+6) if there is high ground in the 4 adjacent tiles.

Looks like this is the patch for enhanced attacks because Ascalon does 210% additional damage to an enemy, attacking twice and stores up to 3 charges in her M3 for S1.

Her S2 gives her +130% ATK, slows enemies by 60% if they are on the ground and in attack range and inflicts her T1 (the poison-esque damage) on nearby enemies when defeated. The radius of this 'nearby' means 1.3 tiles away. And it's specified that the MS reduction works on Aerial targets too, but the Talent effect is applied only to ground units.

Finally, to top it off, her range expands and she attacks faster and reduces the Physical and Arts hit rate of ground enemy units by 50%. She's more likely to be targeted by enemies, but recovers 8% MAX HP when she manages to dodge.

Her S1 gets increased, that's all.

---

Right. Everybody should be on the list. Now, to my favourite part of events - watching the YT videos that are meant to introduce the event for us.

First came the Official Babel Trailer.

Here is a script I very painstakingly made of everything written on the screen, because I'm unfortunately not that fast of a reader. During my scripting, I also noticed that the last line... is almost impossible to notice because the screen cracks and glitches when it shows up. I didn't notice it the first two times I watched it for my own pleasure.

[Theresa, you've forged an irreversible "fate".] [Swords and spears sharpen in fear of your bloodkin.] [You believe our differences will eventually be put aside,] [That the tribes will ultimately unite.] [Theresa, I've seen it... your wish.] [A sea of stars shining at the end of savagery,] [A new path emerging from the storm.] [But every path has an end, Theresa.] [When you surpass the limits of civilization,] [No one will be able to comprehend your love...] [They will loathe you...] [They will fear you...] [Until hate transforms the land into ruin.] [Until blood washes the memories away.] [But we do not struggle on our own, do we?] [Words of hope are engraved on wreckage.] [...You have brought us ample delights.] [So, don't let go of my hands.] [Let's see for ourselves, together.] [Watch life awaken from despair...] [I want you to believe,] [We can still stand together,] [in the sea of flowers, listening...] [To the voices of the universe...]

---

As a side note, Twitter provides another just slightly edited video of the new characters which I like to include for the fullness of the list. You can watch it Here, since I can't find it on YT.

---

Finally, here is the Arknights Animation PV for Babel.

Dying. And crying. Screaming. You can see baby Amiya. You see baby Ascalon, Manfred, Theresa... Little Logos, ilovehim. His terrible haircut, his pointy ears, the cutiest that has ever patootied, I was screeching worse than any Banshee you could ever hear when I saw him.

The speaker I'm pretty sure is Kal'tsit and the important information is provided in the video description itself:

[To advance from present to future, You first settle the past.] [Arknights: Babel] [Your Highness... I swear to you]

I remember when I saw it my first thought was: Oh my god are we seeing somebody having a father??? But then I think I got swept away seeing Manfred being tied to a pole with Theresis and Theresa being the best adoptive parents that could exist.

Also, Savage jumpscare.

Also also,

Genuinely me.

---

Last on the list for today is the furniture set: 'Scar Market Memories' A room modeled after the Scar Market based on the Sarkaz mercenaries' descriptions. The market was known for its disorder and disarray. Its visual appearance was established by a Cyclops who had been in charge for several decades.

I really like this one, it fits so well with Hoederer's furniture pack because they're both very... Sarkaz. By Sarkaz, I mean that they look like a hole you could've dug up to live in. Kind of cosy, kind of sad. Like anything Sarkaz we're about to learn.

---

This is what it looks like on the ship without the Minecraft shaders. Now let's just go through some of them and see the more interesting tidbits of information we have about the Sarkaz lifestyle.

Surely, a piece of furniture can't have any sort of angst about it. I mean, come on, it's just a room.

Downward Facing Branches

A withered thick tree branch, severed to a third of its original length. "We hang a dead tree branch above our heads to remind every Sarkaz: Death is gazing upon you."

...

...

...

What the absolute hell.

---

Long Twig

It's.... It's just a long twig.

Please.

A withered, thick tree branch, severed to a third of its original length. It is a symbol that stands in for the dead. The corpse of the tree is twisted and haggard, just like our fallen comrades in their final moments.

---

Witchcraft Workbench

A metal table full of scratches and marks, with a basket holding strange tools hanging underneath. All astute mercenaries know that they should never ask about the tools' real purpose.

God damn it.

---

Oddities Showcase

Oh, yeah, I love oddities showcases, I've seen people make miniature showcases of like... things they... like...

A collection of cheap objects brought back from all across Terra is put on display here. The "oddities" in the name refers not to the trinkets, but to the mercenaries who managed to bring them here without dying.

---

"Work and Life"

A storage rack with some daily necessities, a few wanted posters, and quite a few ID tags. Note: The ID tags are just decorations. No Sarkaz mercenaries were harmed in the making of this collection.

You're funny, you're so very funny I am clapping my thighs with amusement you freak--- *Gets dragged away by Hoederer for a 10-minute break*

---

Hoederer: "Doctor..." Me: "I don't want to read anymore..." Hoederer: "Doctor, please, you've been stalling for so long. You have to at least finish this part." Me: "Can we just please do anything else, I am going to die if I have to read another furniture set that talks about how each and every Sarkaz dies like a mayfly unnoticed and illiterate until somebody who probably minutely knew about them notices they've been gone four months past when they were meant to return-" Hoederer: "They do." Me: "... I'm sorry. I'm going back to work."

---

Steel Rail Lights

Hanging from the dark ceiling light are a cloth, a teapot, and some wine glasses; also some books. "I just put whatever on top since it's convenient. Just like how I put my life on the line for coin. Because money is convenient."

---

Messy Wine Cabinet

A messy storage shelf with wineglasses and a bottle of wine of unknown origin. Strong liquor distilled from grains is the mercs' favorite. It's cheap, strong, and "kills instantly."

---

Charcoal Oven

The charcoal fire burns slowly and projects a dark red color on the oven. To prevent indoor carbon monoxide poisoning, the "fire" here is actually a number of lights with different colors.

Are you saying.... Are you saying that they...

Okay, I think we're done here, nothing more interesting to see from the furniture set. Everything is terrible and all died, some mercenaries have artistic vision while others sleep on metal mats and other trash they put together.

I can't believe I called any of this cosy before reading their descriptions.

---

I also want to give props to all of you, each comment is such a banger I've been laughing at them separately and together for ten minutes now.

[sudensk-the-stallionist]

i sent u an ask before and then i realized i was shadowbanned (not anymore yay) but i saw another post that made me go “this is very topical” but!!! it’s very aggravating how the cultural consciousness around anticapitalism and ‘leftism’ is so weak and vague and ESPECIALLY in usamerica it’s just… so cowardly. i could talk abt it forever but the way people idolize men who make the vaguest ‘political’ commentary of “capitalism bad :P” is rather frustrating, given the way socialism in the consciousness of well-off ‘left’ usamericans (though not unique to them in any way) is often just social democracy. their highest of demands is UBI :/ sad!

No problem! I'll send the images of the other asks to answer them all in one go.

I'll allow myself to give an longer answer. Now, i'm sure that there are valid and good critiques of capitalism made by individuals with real class consciousness nowadays in the USA, but all you've said is pretty much correct in my viewpoint. But, after all, why? I'm no expert, but i feel like all you've mentioned can be at least partially explained.

Look, the USA has had important experiences where class consciousness was on the rise and various figures with a consistent and correct Marxist-Leninist line where among those who seeked to guide it - like the Black Panther Party (i also think that to an partial extent Foster's experience with the CPUSA as well, but i'll not makes this claim as i'm not well-versed in this and will happily accept criticism and greater explanations on it) - but they were always overwhelmed by other groups and figures who were painted from head to toes with social-democratic at best, anti-communist liberal at worst paint; some claimed the mantle of communism, but were either filled with adventurism, internal division and left-deviationism or were filled with rightist reformism. The thing is - the gigantic apparatus of the USAmerican duopoly and all the resources such a monumental bourgeois state that is the head of worldwide imperialism has were able to squash all functioning Marxist-Leninist groups when they were seeking to direct the raging masses towards a correct line of class consciousness, be it by literal physical means of liquidation or by being able to put revisionists within its ranks to slowly eliminate ML praxis. From this liquidation only those exact "social-democratic at best, anti-communist liberal at worst" remained.

The USA has been hiperefficiently destroying Marxist-Leninism within its borders by corrupting every moment where popular discontent rises - be it the late 60s, 2008 or the BLM protests - and injecting the disoriented masses with "liberal rebellion against the system". Those who go a bit further become anarchists. This in contemporary times has generated a, pardon me, shitshow of critiques of "the system" that have nothing in them other than "well, something's bad, right?" and throwing random buzzwords in there. Now, i do believe many who make these criticism have some good intentions and are genuinely aware that something needs to be done - but, the thing is, they're so lost in the sea of idealism that nothing can be seen. It's just the results of all forms of correct critique and war against the bourgeois system - therefore, made by Marxists-Leninists - are and have been drowned by USAmerican rule.

I believe it is, then, the duty of every USAmerican ML to continuously combat this endless confusion and romanticized, watered-down anti-capitalism by presenting the truth: Marxist-Leninist theory and praxis. The State will beat you time and time again; they will make all the orgs have just "solarpunk fans", "anarcho-communists", "cottagecore enthusiasts", "democratic socialists" and "anti-capitalists" (yes, i'm putting all these categories in one group) in them, and they will try to arrest and kill you if the timing is good for them. But there's no way other than this. So many have a burning distaste of all that is out there, all this exploitation, and it is the Marxist-Leninist's duty to stop them from going to the dormant and idiotic tens of forms of revisionism. This will be edgy, but i'll cite a music lyrics to end this: "They send foreign agents into our midst, Opportunists and revisionists: 'Are police socialists?' They talk about revolution just to sow confusion: Death to the traitors, death to the traitors, death to the traitors."