#Not sure if this is a hypothetical “If he had succeeded in the plan would he be an Extinction avatar”

[wouldtheybecomeafearavatar]

Would Jonathan Sim (Magnus Archives) after he tries to doom his own world to save the worlds of other realities be considered an avatar of the Extinction?

[stuckinuniformdevelopment]

@bishop-percival

(Previous) Mike played out that hypothetical plan in his head. He couldn’t imagine himself drawing a giant circle on the ground behind the bishop without him noticing. “Tsk. If only it could be that easy. And…” He turned and leaned against the wall. “I won’t rest until I know he’s actually dead. I need to see his dead body. Just shoving him in a void gives him the chance to, I don't know… Magic his way out of it or something.” Again, speaking so violently about the watchdog Mike had devoted the past 8 years of his life to made him feel a bit ill. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “But we could surely workshop and use this as a backup plan if need be. Or use the Void Chalk to dispose of his body. That’s what we usually use it for.”

When Reverend Mike approached the wall Teddy started to hold his notebook up straighter and tilted it away from him. Then once he slumped down a few feet from him he returned to holding it semi-horizontally.

It was a relief that Reverend Mike insisted on seeing the body himself. Teddy had been been worried that his attachment would complicate the verification process.

Although Teddy's detached attitude about Bishop Percival's death didn't extend to the Glornists' victims. He couldn't help but grimace at the implication.

"True..," Teddy said with a sigh as he leaned forward and rested his hand on his chin. "...I forgot that he likely became anaerobic by now..."

For a moment he glanced at hime out of concern before averting his eye. "Have you ever heard of the Rasputin myth? Perhaps we could layer as many methods as possible in hopes of one succeeding."

"Although..," Teddy frowned. "A complex plan has a higher probability of going off the rails..."

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XII

Part I - - - - - - Part II - - - - - - - - - - - -  Part X - - - - - - Part XI

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

“We cannot delay much longer” Master Ki-Adi-Mundi said gravely. “Rumors are spreading like wildfire throughout the temple, and Master Kenobi’s absence is not going unnoticed among the troops.”

Master Fisto sighed and his hologram rippled. “As much as I dislike deliberate falsehoods, I think it might be best for morale if we keep- the truth, as we understand, under wraps as much as possible. Young Ashoka is deeply shaken. I myself...” the Nautolan sighed again, running a hand through his tendrils anxiously.

“Not to mention the fact that Master Kenobi might have a valid reason for mistrusting the Chancellor so strongly” Master Gallia added darkly. “Of course I’m not saying we should charge him with anything based on Kenobi’s scattered words alone, but given the chance that this was proceeded by some hypernaturally prescient event, some form of precaution seems warranted.”

Yoda hummed in reply, looking weary. “Fallen ill, Obi-Wan has, tell the Chancellor and the Admiralty, we shall. Incapable of visitors. Still unknown to us, the cause is. Overwork, we suspect. Truth, it may be?” he finished, turning to Master Windu.

Mace leaned back. “I’ve shared everything relevant. We still don’t know anything with absolute certainty. It is my hope that the healers will call upon our more powerful telepaths for assistance later today, should their other efforts continue to prove unsuccessful.” he added with a glance at Master Koon.

"In the mean time,” Master Tiin interjected. “We must discuss the situation in the Expansion Region! As much as we had hoped to delay the Unumbran until Master Kenobi was capable of leading the 212th-”

“That is no longer plausible, if ever it was.” Plo-Koon interrupted softly.

“You may be best suited for the task, Master Tiin” Windu offered. “Your 407th was intended to accompany the 212th, in any case.”

Saesee Tiin reared back, alarmed. “I’m honored, but as I’ve already explained to the council, my skills as a pilot and Shocktroop leader are best utilized at a lower command level. I’m certain there’s a better suited replacement for Kenobi, at least for the short term. What about Skywalker? He is Kenobi’s protegee, and more familiar with working directly with the 212th.”

“You are a veteran with considerable more experience than young Skywalker. You would truly trust his judgement over your own?” Shaak Tii asked skeptically.

“As a General? Absolutely. I’ve seen what he’s capable of.” Master Tiin confirmed.

Koon pushed back, disapproving. “Regardless of his skill, I don’t believe he is in the best mindset for such a task at the moment.”

“Will he be held back from the front entirely?” Master Koth asked, frowning. “That would mean reworking our forces considerably.”

Before Mace was forced to add his own concerns about Anakin’s role in the war, they were interrupted by a priority message from the Chancellor’s office.

Exchanging looks, the assembled council straightened in their seats, nodding one by one at Master Windu, who finally accepted the incoming call.

A full scale live holo of Chancellor Palpatine opened at the front of the room.

“Ah, I see the full council is here. I thank you humbly for accepting my call so quickly.” He said to the room with a smooth bow of the head.

Exchanging a glance with Mace, Master Yoda answered, “Of course, Chancellor. Serve the senate, we do. Help you how, can we?”

A troubled expression crossed Palpatine’s expression. “I recently heard the most terrible rumor about poor General Kenobi. I was hoping the Council could clear up the truth of the matter.”

“Hmm. Dangerous things, rumors are. Careful with them, you are wise to be.” Yoda said. Everyone in the room expertly stifled a smile at Yoda’s unrivaled skill at vague topic evasion.

The Chancellor was far too practiced a politician to allow irritation to cross his expression. “Thank you for that wisdom Master Yoda. Now what exactly is the condition of the High General of the Third System Army?”

Yoda’s ears drooped. “Plagued by sickness, Master Kenobi is. Unable to wake him, our best healers are.”

Palpatine gasped. “How horrid! Surely this must be some insidious Separatist plot! What else could have felled such a powerful Jedi.”

“Immune to illness, Not even the Jedi are. Still investigating the cause, are we. Discussing who should care for his troops, when you called, we were.”

“Oh, how dreadful, that we are forced to discuss such mundanities as troop movements when a good friend’s life might hang in the balance! Please, if there’s anything I or the Senate can do to help, you have my personal support in accessing the finest healers.”

“Very kind of you, that is. But well cared for, Master Kenobi is. Will help, a rest from the stress of war, we hope. Do our best to keep the news contained, we shall. Risk inspiring fear in the public, we do not wish.”

“Indeed! That is very wise thing to fear. Do not worry, I will ensure that any security leaks are taken care myself if need be.”

Master Windu finally spoke, tone and posture absolutely neutral. “Thank you, Chancellor. If there’s nothing else, we will return to planning our strategy during Master Kenobi’s unfortunate but necessary leave of absence from the front.” 

“Of course! When you are finished, would you be so kind as to send General Skywalker to brief me on what you decide?”

“That won’t be necessary, Chancellor. I’m more than happy to come in person to brief you myself” Windu replied in the same placid voice. 

“Oh, I’m certain that as Master of the Order you have more important tasks to do than talk to an old man such as myself! And as you know, I consider Anakin a friend of mine. It will do me good to check in on him myself, I’m sure you understand.”

“As you have so kindly reminded us in the past, nothing outweighs a Jedi’s duty to the Senate of the Republic. As Master of the Order, I consider discussing the matter with you a top priority. And as for Skywalker- your concern is of course appreciated. I’m sure, given your friendship, you will respect our decision to give the young man some time off from council obligations to meditate over his concern for his friend and former Master. We would be happy to pass on an informal invitation to meet with you, if you wish.”

Palpatine was silent for a moment. “How...very kind of you to respect their close bond with one another. Yes, please do pass on my personal invitation of support to Anakin. And my offer of non-Jedi medical consultation.”

“I will do so as soon as our meeting has finished. Thank you again Chancellor.”

Palpatine nodded briefly then closed the connection, hologram winking out of existence.

“Unaware, I was, a leave of absence from his duties, we were giving Knight Skywalker.” Yoda said with a raised brow.

“The full matter will need to wait until Master Kenobi wakes, but for now, trust me when I say that we should at least discuss possible replacement leadership for both the 212th and the 501st.”

The council grumbled at that, but Mace quelled any arguments with a severe look. 

“Very well.” Shaak Tii relented, pulling up a datapad. “Jedi Masters currently without troops to command include several shadows that we could hypothetically pull from their duties, as well as Master Krell after the tragic loss of his last division...”

---

“My Lord! This is an unexpected honor! How may I-”

“Save your simpering, Tyrannus.” The hooded figure hissed. “It appears we have a new player in the game.”

“To whom are you referring, my lord?” Dooku responded, thinking quickly. Of course both Sith were constantly instigating power plays amongst the Republic and Seperatist leadership, but nothing dramatic came to mean.”  

“You mean to tell me you don’t know?” Sideous replied with a wicked smirk. “How disappointing. I had thought your spy network better than that, particularly when it comes to your favorite lineage member.”

Dooku paused. “I was aware that Kenobi had missed the most recent major mixed war briefing. Do you mean to tell me he has begun to move against you, my lord?”

“My, my. Your sources truly are failing you, Darth Tyrannus. Quite the opposite is true. It appears that someone has managed to land a blow where our combined efforts had previously proven fruitless.”

“A blow against Kenobi? On Coruscant? That is...an interesting development” 

“Indeed. Find out everything you can. Whoever has succeeded has done so in such a manner as to utterly rattle the High Council. I’ve never seen them so deliciously shaken.”

“I see. And what of your favorite of my lineage? I assume you are managing to use the situation against him gracefully as ever.”

Palpatine’s smirk fell into twisted snarl. “The boy is despondent of course. My lack of warning means that I was unable to position myself advantageously in advance. And now he is refusing to answer messages, while the council has chosen to give him time off. Bah. Of all the times to attend to their Chosen one’s emotional wellbeing...”

Dooku drew himself up, expression betraying nothing. “Forgive me my lord, but any information you can provide me would help in my search to find our ‘new player’ as it were. I have never known the council to be so...soft with a knight when his former Master was simply in sickbay. Do you mean to tell me that Obi-Wan Kenobi has passed into the force?” His tone, haughtily impassive throughout the conversation, grew a touch disbelieving at the very end.

“My sources tell me he is ‘unwakeable’ but given the boy’s anger and grief, not to mention the fact that his force signature is practically non-existent... I suspect his condition may very well be critical. Find out the rest.  Do not fail me again, Tyrannus.”

The connection cutoff abruptly, leaving Dooku alone in the dimly lit room. He strode out, sealing the private chamber behind him and calling out. 

“Ventress! Attend me at once- I have an urgent assignment for you...”

Part XIII

[transphilza]

O c!Wilbur expert, I have a hypothetical:

If Wilbur had run away with Tommy after the election, as realistically speaking as possible, what do you think would have happened?

My apologies if this has been asked before.

- 🥀📚

i am the worst person when it comes to hypotheticals because i always end up talking about why canon needed to happen the way it did (and this is much the same; wilbur and tommy cared too much about l’manberg to run and not try to get l’manberg back) but i’ll do my best

first of all, without the purpose of helping pogtopia, idk if techno would have even joined the server, or how much of a role he would’ve played if he did. additionally, either tubbo would have ran away with them Or he just wouldn’t have been a spy…. either way i think it’s Less likely that tubbo would’ve died. with both of these factors i’m also not sure if there even would have Been a revolution — manberg likely would have just dissolved when schlatt died, with either tubbo or quackity succeeding him as president.

the thing with all that though is that wilbur doesn’t just sit idly… he’d create some kind of plan to make himself feel useful. but i think wilbur would probably fall apart regardless… the whole issue with that situation was wilbur feeling like everything was slipping out of his control, and relinquishing even more control over the situation by running away would probably eat away at him just as much as pogtopia did. and i honestly don’t think the outcome of whatever plan he came up with would be too different from what happened in canon..,

think about the line “we were fucked the minute we were thrown out”…… yeah. no matter how far he ran i don’t think anything else Could have been how that story ended for cwilbur

as for tommy, i think he’d always come back to l’manberg, probably after wilbur’s goals were reached and he was gone. and the new l’manberg story would have played out similarly to how it did in canon

that’s my best guess

[finaledenialist]

Not to be that person, but watching season 7 Dean admit that he's suicidal after Cas' death (plus post-cage Sam's issues) really makes you think about his 'chosen' death by rusty nail huh...

warnings: su*cide is discussed here

I must admit I don’t remember exactly how it went in season 7 for Dean: I know he was spiraling and he even admitted to Eliot Ness that he would give up hunting if he could, there was also Bobby’s death and all BUT 

yes, if I, for the sake of this discussion, pretend that the finale exist, then the only way I could make sense of it is Dean jumping on the first case that presented itself after Jack didn’t bring back Cas after bringing back everyone else with maybe not a plan, but a hope? A whatever will happen will happen attitude?

 Because Dean probably assumed that: 

if bringing Cas back was possible Jack would have done this the second he brought back anyone else (because it was Jack for god’s sake, and Jack loved Cas);

if Jack, the new God, the most powerful being in the world, couldn’t bring Cas back then it must have meant that bringing him back it’s just simply impossible; 

if it’s 100% impossible and Cas will never be back... Well we all have seen season 13, right?

So, the case presents itself, some stupid vampires, whatever. Dean kills some of them, sure, but he lacks the spark that he has always had, he lacks motivation because what is there to fight for, what is there to live for anymore, right? What is the point? Add his lifelong issues to that and when he saw the opportunity to just... go AND make it look like an accident (because he knew Sam would have been wrecked if he figured out that Dean did this on purpose), he just let it happen. 

He even went further than that: he prevented Sam from calling help when he didn’t die immediately, he used Sam’s shock and panicked response to focus on him, he gives him a speech about living and you go Sam, live your life, be happy, quit this hunting stuff and all. 

In some tragic, twisted way at the very least that interpretation makes it Dean’s choice (a tragic choice and a terrible wrong message to send to the fans of the show, of course but a choice nevertheless): he stopped believing his life has a point, he just didn’t want to do this anymore, he was tired, he lost faith that he could ever be happy here (or at least the very little of this faith that he started to develop) and he thought that there is nothing worth fighting for anymore. And Sam will be fine, because he is different, he always had more faith and he is a grown ass man who, Dean realized somewhere along the way, doesn’t need him anymore the way he needed him almost all his life. 

In a way Dean broke free from John’s orders to protect Sam with his own life (he couldn’t break free from this in life, on earth - this is established in canon, because 15 years have passed and in Dean’s mind Sam was always his little brother, dying was his tragic way of ending that cycle); and who knows: maybe he also hoped that he will meet Cas in the afterlife, because he surely wasn’t going to reunite with him in this life. But most probably he just wanted some god damn peace and to be free of all the responsibilities and of the life centered around killing and hunting, because this life is beyond miserable and he stopped perceiving himself as his dad’s killing machine because of what Cas said to him, but if he stayed alive he wouldn’t stop hunting and killing, he knew that living without it for him was just impossible, this was another pattern/cycle he wasn’t able to break while alive (he almost succeeded with Lisa, but the life eventually caught up to him, he also didn’t know another way to live than centering it around hunting and helping people).

Plus, he must have thought he was already too old to look for someone new to be in a relationship with and he must have known that 

no one will know him as well as Cas and he wanted to be known, he wanted to be seen because we all want someone to know us and love us despite everything; what’s even more important though, Cas knew him without Dean actually telling him anything (and Dean sucks at talking), he could read him, he knew his soul, he could sense how Dean was feeling and if something was wrong without Dean having to talk about it; Cas saw him at his absolute worst (as a torturer in Hell) and decided to save him and help him and ultimately fell for him and in love with him; like, Dean must have known, even in his repressed 42 year old heart, that no one could ever compare to that, because no one could ever see and know him like that, because it was just impossible. 

meeting someone new gave two options: a) unloading all of his life history to another person, risking being rejected, risking repeating this with a lot of people until he - and that is a maybe - finally found someone, b) pretending he was someone else (even if, hypothetically, Dean would get together with some other hunter who knew the lifestyle and heard legends about Dean), bottling everything up like he did all his life - and that choice ultimately also sucked.

So, having analyzed that he probably thought that it’s just not worth trying, you know. He also probably thought he was already older than he ever thought he would be, imagine how tired Dean must have been, and he just lost his, ‘reason to get up in the morning’. He spent the same amount of time on earth as in hell, in a way his soul was 80 years old. This man was mentally exhausted. But because he was still, somehow, full of love, instead of shooting himself in the head or driving off a cliff he decided, for the sake of his brother, to make it look like a hunt accident, one that he has talked about for years (that this would probably be his ending, it wouldn’t look suspicious, especially after he acts like the happiest person in the world on this Pie Festival or whatever that was), one that would even maybe have the effect of Sam leaving the hunting life and maybe making one more attempt at having a normal life. 

Of course, none of that would happen if Cas was just brought back, because he was Dean’s cure to everything, and after that confession? Dean wouldn’t let go of Castiel’s hand, ever. Cas was his rock, solid. Of course this is a toxic thing to depend your life on someone else (you should learn to be your own happiness, accept yourself and so on, yes), but life is not perfect and we’re talking about a mentally ill person who found his light and a reason to go on in someone else, in someone who loved them unconditionally, which could, for them, be the first big step on self-recovery, and that person was brutally taken away from them. 

For Dean, learning that Cas loving him and him being Castiel’s happiness was what ultimately got Cas dead?! This was one of Dean’s biggest fear, it hit right home, it was ‘I let down every god forsaken thing I care about’ and ‘The moment Cas laid a hand on you he was lost’ and ‘I am poison’ becoming his self-fulfilling prophecy. It crushed him.  

I just hate that this makes sense.

[sadoeuphemist]

Six Times You Knew What Everyone Was Thinking (and one time you didn’t):

1.

The King sits you down with his other two advisors, has you close your eyes, puts a hat on each of your heads. The hats will be either red or white, he says, with at least one red one. The first to speak up and name the color of their own hat wins the prize.

You open your eyes, see the other two advisors both with red hats staring at you. You all study each other, thinking. Silence. Silence. No one coming to a conclusion.

Ah, but in their silence it is obvious: if your hat were white, surely one of them would have figured it out already. Your hats all are red, of course.

2.

You pass through a tunnel in a group of n where n>2 friends, wind blowing through your hair; you emerge from the darkness to see each of your friends with a smudge of soot on their foreheads. You laugh. You cannot help but laugh. They look hilarious! The moment they realize they have a smudge of soot on their foreheads, they will wipe it clean, of course, but for now all of you are laughing. You all will keep laughing as long as there is a spot of soot left to be seen.

You think, How inseparable you are from your friends, how your minds all work according to the same rules of logic! You can imagine what they are all thinking, right now, in their laughter; and they of you; and you are imaging them imagining you and so on ad infinitum. You watch them laughing and are looking into a hall of mirrors.

You think this is what knowing is.

In any case, so long as your minds all tick along at sufficiently different speeds, eventually, your faces will all be clean.

3.

You attend a conference of logicians, a mad tea party. At the entrance they place a colored band around your head, forbidding you to look at your own color. They sit you all in a circle around a table, allow everyone to silently look around at one another, to note down the colors of everybody else.

This problem is solvable for everyone, they tell you. At regular intervals, a chime will sound, and everyone who knows the color of their own headband at that point is to stand and leave the table. The game will continue until everyone has left.

An inference: everyone must share a color with at least one other person, see it reflected somewhere, in order to have any chance at succeeding. If you see someone with a color all of their own, ah, then you must be their partner. If a pair fails to stand at the first chime, it is because they must have each seen something in you that you could not see in yourself, and so you will all rise together at the next chime as a trio. And so on, and so on, the smaller groups at first and then the larger, everyone in turn finding the group where they belong.

There is nothing to it but the logic. It is so orderly, so inevitable, done like this.

4.

There is a blind spot in all these variations. Something so obvious that everyone but you can see. A mark on your forehead, a crown or dunce cap placed atop your head, that characteristic of the self that can only ever be perceived through someone else.

You do not know if your husband is cheating on you or not.

There is a system, as these things go. Gossip flows freely here, and so every woman knows of every unfaithful husband in the kingdom but her own. It would be discourteous to tell her. All women in the kingdom are required to train in logic before taking a husband; this too is widely known. You can trust them all as you can trust yourself.

One day the Queen makes an announcement: infidelity has run rampant in the kingdom, and so every woman who learns her husband has been unfaithful to her must kill him that very night. Every execution - or lack of executions - will be publicly announced the next day. You know quite well the number of unfaithful husbands in the kingdom, as does every wife: n, or n+1.

You count the days, and check your loaded pistol, and you wait.

5.

There are two hundred inhabitants of the island: a hundred brown-eyed, ninety-nine blue-eyed, and you. The rules of the island are numerous, and contrived, and have little room for variation, but by now I think you must have grasped the pattern. You all think in lockstep, are all perfect logicians. You all know the color of everyone’s eyes but your own.

One final rule: the moment someone knows their own eye color, they must leave the island by ferry that night.

For a long time nothing happens. Each day passes like the other. The sky is an eternal blue. No one learns anything.

And then one day, an oracle visits the island, gathers everyone together to make a single announcement: there is at least one person among you with blue eyes.

She has not told anyone anything new, of course. You all could see either a hundred or ninety-nine blue-eyed people; you all knew that already. And yet, the count has started; time, invisibly, is ticking. And yet, and yet, and yet...

The answer has been much discussed: on the hundredth night, all one hundred blue-eyed people leave the island (as it turns out, you had blue eyes, as might have been predicted).

But the question is this: What did you learn?

6.

You and one of your blue-eyed compatriots have been captured, locked in separate cells, far from one another. Eight strong iron bars block the door of your cell; your fellow islander (though you do not know this, have yet no way of knowing) counts twelve in theirs.

Your captor told you this, before you were separated: the number of bars in both your cells added together would total to either twenty, or eighteen. Your task is to determine which. He will first ask your friend during the day, and then if they cannot reason out an answer, he will come to ask you at night. Day in, day out, until one of you can give the correct number with absolute certainty, and then you will both be freed.

You learn nothing else each day, nothing but your continued inability to answer. You must choose between two immutable possibilities - your friend must either have ten bars, or twelve - and as one day passes, then the next, then the next, the routine and options both unchanging, it may seem impossible to ever inch towards a conclusion.

Ah, but then when were you ever limited to what was merely possible? 

There are 8 bars in your cell; theirs must have either 10 or 12. Meaning they might imagine you as having 8, or 10, or 6. And so they imagine you in your cell as you were a moment before, calculating the possible number of bars in their cell: 10, 12, 8, 14. And from there, you imagine, they imagine you imagining them imagining you: 10 or 8 or 6 or 12 or 4 ...

Each possibility branches out into further possibilities, broadening the ranges, worlds within worlds within worlds within worlds. You are so alike. You know each other, perfectly: not just in everything that might be, but in all the things you might imagine within those possibilities that right now are ruled out even as hypothetical, and the things your imagining’s imaginings might imagine, and so on and on and on...

You are looking into a hall of mirrors.

Uncertainties multiply themselves. Through the kaleidoscopic reflections of one another you each discern every combination of numbers that might be conceived of, no matter how many layers deep in hypothetical: 18 and 2, or 16 and 2, or 16 and 4, or 14 and 6, and so on all the way down the rabbit hole.

After the first day passes without incident, there is no longer any conceivable set of worlds where your friend has eighteen bars. (The answer would be too obvious, the game over immediately.)

After the first night passes, if you know your friend does not have eighteen bars and yet you still cannot give an answer, then there is no longer any conceivable set of worlds where you have two. 

The days pass in silence. The range of possibilities shrinks, ever gradually honing in on the truth.

Of course, you both already knew full well that these combinations were impossible. You each had your own set of bars, perfectly immutable, the iron laws of addition and subtraction. You all saw a red hat. Ninety-nine pairs of blue eyes, at the least! Everyone knew, and everyone knew that everyone knew that everyone knew.

But eventually there is an end to the maze of mirrors, of recursive possibilities, after so many, many iterations, when finally you cannot tack on another ‘knew they knew’ and still have it make sense. Then, you wait, each day passing, each of you learning from everyone else in their inaction: I have done nothing yet today to free us, and so now I know they know I do not yet know ...!

(a blue-eyed person sees 99 blue-eyed people, and thinks:     they might each see only 98 blue-eyed people, and think:         they might each see only 97 blue-eye people, and think:             .......               they might each see only 2 blue-eyed people, and think:                  they might each see only 1 blue-eyed person, and think:                      they might not see any blue-eyed people at all!)

(this is what the oracle teaches you!)

------

0.

After all your trials, this one is the simplest: You are one of two generals on opposite sides of a city, planning to launch a combined assault. Your target is walled, and well-fortified. You will need to attack together or not at all. A single army alone would certainly be massacred, so neither of you will send your troops forward if there is the slightest hint of doubt.

Alas, your only method of communication is sending messengers back and forth through enemy territory. There is a good chance they will be killed; the journey is quite perilous. But lives are cheap, and messengers are plenty, and you are both eager for victory. How many messages will you need to send back and forth before you can begin?

Answer: this is a simple problem, well known to be impossible. Send as many messengers as you want, but without a reply you cannot be sure that any of them survived. The other general must confirm the message - but how will he know that you received the confirmation without himself receiving another confirmation in return? And then that confirmation must be confirmed, and so on ad infinitum, each link in the chain essential and thus itself needing verification, such that no number of messages successfully delivered could ever be enough.

There is an insurmountable gap between you, meaningless assurances piling up, all made unbearable by uncertainty: Do you understand me? Do you understand me? Do you understand?

.

.

RESOURCES:

Wikipedia article on induction puzzles: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Induction_puzzles

Possibly the earliest known formulation of one of these kinds of puzzles (the smudge of soot one), by A.A. Bennett: https://puzzling.stackexchange.com/questions/28194/the-origin-of-the-blue-eyes-puzzle

Blue eyes puzzle (solution): https://xkcd.com/solution.html

18 or 20 bars puzzle: https://puzzling.stackexchange.com/questions/45664/are-there-eighteen-or-twenty-bars-in-my-castle

Two Generals’ problem: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Two_Generals%27_Problem

Common knowledge: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_knowledge_(logic)

[shutupanakin]

Wasting Your Time Ch. 4

“Wh— what?” Tommy choked out, his voice hoarse from the lack of use all day.

The man rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t just ask a completely impolite question. “I said, do you have any booze?”

Tommy sat still. He reached into his jacket pocket, his hand finding only a plastic pen. Could he stab this man with a plastic pen?

Tommy pulled said piece of plastic out, visibly holding it up. “I have a pen.” Something about the bemused look on the man's face made Tommy click it, and again, repeatedly.

click click click click click click click click—

...

or; Tommy planned on dying. He meets Wilbur instead.

first chapter here and crossposted on ao3 here

Tommy had tripped on his way here.

Sam had gone to bed late. Tommy couldn’t hate him for it, because he had stayed up to try to talk to Tommy— he was trying. But Tommy had a place to be. He relied on Sam’s strict sleeping schedule for this. And god, did Tommy feel guilty for brushing him off, and saying he was tired and pretending to be asleep when he was really mapping out ways he could climb out of his fourth story window.

When he had heard the soft shut of Sam’s door, Tommy ran. He practically fell over himself trying to get out of the building.

Tommy booked it to the station. He practically bounced while getting his ticket. He was regretting not doing any sports while in school, because by the time Tommy had descended the stairs into the underground he was heaving for air. Tommy was on the last two steps when his foot caught on his untied shoelaces and he was sent face-first into the cement of the platform.

Luckily, Tommy didn’t fuck up his face, because he caught himself with his arms. Tommy bit back the pain and sprinted into the already immobile train, making it before the doors had closed on him.

Tommy fucking hated his luck, because when he entered, there was a man, sitting at the back of the train.

Not in his spot, three seats ahead of his and Wilburs row, but he was still… there… which made sense! Alright! It was public transport. Tommy knew he would have to run into this issue eventually. But this was just the fucking cherry on top of his fucked up sundae.

Tommy gave him a harsh glare— and deep down he felt bad, because the man hadn’t done anything wrong technically— before grabbing his seat, three rows behind. Hopefully, he’ll get off soon. The train was already moving again by the time Tommy settled in.

Tommy observed the damage he did to himself, finally being able to catch his breath. His jacket saved him from completely messing up his elbows, although the fabric had gotten marked up. His palms however were completely scraped. Tommy turned his eyebrows down, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. Tommy pulled the end of his sleeves over his palms. He’d wash them when he got home.

Tommy reached over, tying up his sneakers. He was in such a rush to get out of the flat that he had forgotten the simplest task. Tommy was practically still putting on his shoes when he left the apartment. He had run this entire way with no issue, of course the tube station stairs ended up being the thing that fucked him up. A guilty part of his brain wanted to blame Sam for this. He was the reason why Tommy was almost late. He was the reason why Tommy didn’t tie his shoes, and why his hands are now scraped up and why his knee is aching. Sam is the reason why Tommy sitting in a cold lecture room every week studying shit he doesn’t like and why Tommy was in a phone call with Tubbo Friday night not breathing because he had received a heavy email from his professor about a test he had failed—

Tommy shook his head. He wiped the tears that were forming away with his sleeve. He was alright. He was okay. That happened Friday. Tommy didn’t have class tomorrow. He could tuck that away for now and not have to think about it. He could ask his professor about extra credit. He could save this. For Sam, he could save this. For Sam.

Tommy didn’t want to be a fucking mess when Wilbur showed up. This was the best part of Tommy’s week. He couldn’t ruin it by having a breakdown, not right fucking now. Tommy leaned on the seat in front of him, placing his forehead against the plastic. Tommy pulled at his hair; he was alright. He can deal with this. He could ride this out and he would be alright.

“You look like shit,”

Tommy’s head shot up, turning at a quick speed to look to his left. Wilbur was standing there. Stupid hair. Stupid glasses. Stupid Reagan & Bush jumper covered up by his stupid brown coat. Tommy hadn’t realized they stopped. He peeked his head over the seat. The man didn’t leave. He would just have to deal with Tommy’s voice then.

Tommy laughed hollowly. “Hey, big man,” Tommy said, rubbing at his eyes. Wilbur sat down next to him. Not across, like the last three times. “I tripped.” He held up his palms, showing Wilbur the scraped-up skin. “My knee is also fucked.”

“Ouch,” Wilbur grimaced. “Are you okay?”

That was a simple question. Are you okay? It was three words. A common courtesy to ask someone who was injured. Tommy shouldn’t be breaking down the way he is over it.

Tommy hit his forehead against the back of the plastic seat. “No,” Tommy answered.

“Bad week?” Tommy nodded. “So that is why you look like shit.”

Tommy groaned. “You’re kicking a man while he’s down, Wilbur,” Tommy complained. “I had to run here. Sam went to bed late.”

“Your brother right?”

“Yeah,” Tommy grumbled. “He wanted to talk.”

“Talking to your family is healthy, Tommy.”

“He has bad timing,” Tommy scowled. “I needed to get here.”

“You blew him off for a stranger at a tube station?”

“You’re not a stranger,” Tommy dejected. “And… I didn’t blow him off. He was asking me about school— how I was enjoying my classes and shit.”

They stopped. The man three seats in front of him moved up, not before giving Tommy a nasty look. Tommy wasn’t in the mood to react.

“And you are not enjoying them,” Wilbur concluded. Right, as always.

“You read me like a fucking book don’t you?” Tommy snapped. “I hate them, man.”

“What are you studying?” Wilbur inquired.

“Architecture.”

“Architecture is cool.”

“No, it’s fucking not.” It was not, Tommy was starting to despise it. Everything was going in one ear and out the other.

“Then why are you studying it?”

“Because of Sam,” Tommy answered. “It’s what he did— is doing. He’s finishing his degree right now.”

Sam was supposed to finish it last year, in the states. But he had stopped his year to come back to England after the crash. Tommy was about to turn sixteen. He was in his last year of secondary school and Sam was still away. It was too early in the states to call him.

“Why are you doing what your brother wants you to do?”

“It makes him happy?” Tommy answered. “He loves that shit. I’ll put up with it if he thinks I love it too. Which sucks because I can’t tell him. I can’t talk to him about it because I—I… I’m going to flunk out!” Tommy cried. “I failed a test that was supposed to save my grade. I’m so fucking screwed, Wilbur.” Tommy put his head in his hands, pinching his nose. He was absolutely fucked and he couldn’t tell Sam because he would be so disappointed. Tommy couldn’t deal with that, he couldn’t. The disappointed frown he would give him, when he realized Tommy was bad at Sam’s life passion.

They stopped. The man left, being replaced by a younger one.

“It is not your job to make him happy,” Wilbur said softly. “Besides, I am sure he would be happier knowing you were enjoying what you are doing.”

“It is my job,” Tommy hissed. “I’m the reason he came back. He came back from the states because of me. Making it easier for him is the least I can do!”

And maybe Sam would, maybe Sam would be happier knowing Tommy was succeeding at what he loved instead of failing what he hated. But that was hypothetical.

“And what is making it easier for him, Tommy?” Wilbur pushed. “Flunking out of college? Do you think that is what he wants?”

“No!” Tommy snapped. “It’s—“

Well, it was dying.

That was his cop-out. That was always going to be his cop-out.

Because it made Sams life easier. Sam wouldn’t have to worry about supporting him anymore, Sam wouldn’t have to worry. He could go back to the states. Sam wouldn’t have Tommy anchoring him down. Sam wouldn’t have to worry about Tommy.

“Tommy,” Wilbur breathed. “I do not think Sam would be happy with you dying,”

Tommy didn’t understand how Wilbur read him so easily, was Tommy really that much of an open book?

If so, why couldn’t Sam read him like that?

“It would be easier for him,” Tommy mumbled. “He would grieve, alright? He’d be sad as shit. I expect that. But he could do so much more, he could have his life back!”

“What about your life, Tommy?” Wilbur snapped. “Are you willing to throw your life away on a maybe? On what you think he wants? On what other people want? What do you want, Tommy?”

“I don’t know!” Tommy expressed.

Tommy could punch him. Wilbur was right next to him. Tommy could push him over and leave at the next stop. Tommy would run, Wilbur would call for him, maybe, and Tommy wouldn’t listen.

They stopped.

Tommy didn’t get up.

“I don’t know what I want,” Tommy repeated. “I haven’t thought about that in a while.”

That was the truth, Tommy hadn’t. Since Sam came back, he’s tried to be easy. He tried not to argue, if Sam told him to do something Tommy did it.

“I—I’m not afraid of Sam, or anything,” Tommy continued. “He would never hurt me. He has never hurt me.” He assured. Wilbur was quiet, letting Tommy speak. “That’s not what I’m afraid of. I… I basically ruined his life, ya know? He came back here for me.”

“Has he told you that?”

“No!” Tommy defended.

“Then how can you possibly know he thinks that?”

Tommy didn’t respond. Because Tommy didn’t have an answer. He had just assumed. Tommy always guessed he was right when it came to Sam.

When they stopped again, Wilbur stood up, letting Tommy out. Tommy winced, putting weight on the leg with the not fucked up knee.

Wilbur, unfortunately, took notice of it as they exited the train. “That still hurts?”

“Yeah dickhead,” Tommy hissed through his teeth. “It still fucking hurts.”

Tommy rubbed at it. He could hide his scraped up hands from Sam, he could just shove them in his pockets. That was easy. Hopefully, his knee felt better by tomorrow, Tommy didn’t know how well he could hide a limp. If Sam were to even notice it.

“Want to go see Manifold again?” Wilbur asked. Tommy was grateful for the subject change.

“Always,” Tommy grumbled. “Who else am I supposed to buy tacky pins from?”

“Well, there is a convenience store in the opposite direction if you want to—“

“No, no!” Tommy cut him off. “I’m loyal now to Mr. Manifold— I cannot betray him like that.”

“So you do not think he is overpriced anymore?”

Tommy scoffed. “Nah. His prices still suck. But it’s called being a loyal customer, Wilbur.” Tommy emphasized.

When they came to the flickering neon sign, they unceremoniously stopped.

“Any requests this time?” Tommy asked, Wilbur shook his head.

“If there are no orcas it is a solid no from me.” Wilbur expressed. Tommy huffed, pushing open the door, the familiar sound of the bell ringing over his head.

Jack was slumped over on the counter, head in a book. He glanced up tiredly at Tommy approaching.

Jack yawned. “Hey Tommy,”

Tommy looked through the pin bowl. “Ow do?” Tommy greeted.

“Fucking tired, mate,” Jack yawned again.

“You should close earlier, man,” Tommy suggested, dropping a white sheep-shaped pin on the glass counter.

“Was gonna,” Jack grumbled, taking the pounds. “was waiting for you, actually.”

Tommy stiffened, furrowing his eyebrows. Jack was waiting for him?

“Oh,” Tommy managed out. “Sorry.” He said shortly.

Jack waved him off. “Ah, don’t worry about it. See you next week.”

Tommy secured the pin in his jacket. “See ya next week.” Tommy mirrored. “Try to get some sleep Jack!” He called.

Wilbur, of course, was waiting for him. “No orca?”

Tommy stifled a laugh. “No, sorry Will,” He pointed at the new sheep pin.

Wilbur scrunched up his nose, making a noise of disgust. “Sheep smell,”

“You smell!” Tommy retorted.

“I smell like nothing, thank you,” Wilbur said.

“I bet animals hate you.” Tommy chastised , Wilbur nodding in agreement.

“They do! I freak them out.”

“You freak me out.”

“Fuck off, fucking gremlin.” Wilbur poked.

Tommy used to have two dogs— when he had to move in with Sam, the building keeper already had a no animal policy, so of course, they refused to let them bring the two large canines into the two-bedroom flat with them.

Tommy remembered begging Sam to find a different place, to look at different flats. Sam’s hands were tied and Tommy didn’t get his way.

Tommy hoped they were happy in their new homes. Because Tommy wasn’t.

When Tommy and Wilbur boarded the tube, there was no one in the back this time, thank god, Tommy thought. Tommy had nearly lost it at the man that kept giving him nasty looks last time.

There was a teenager, maybe a little older than Tommy, at the front. They didn’t spare Tommy a glance.

Wilbur sat down next to him, adjusting his glasses. “Are you going to talk to your brother?”

No, Tommy was not circling back to this. “About what?”

Wilbur sighed in exasperation. “Tommy.”

“No, I’m not talking about this again.” Tommy refused. “Next subject. Next topic. Talk about something else, Wilbur.”

“I am pretty keen on talking about this, actually,”

“No,” Tommy asserted. “I’m not.”

“What would you like to study, Tommy?” Wilbur pushed. Tommy didn’t have the energy to push back.

“Editing,” Tommy sighed. “Like, film and stuff.”

“That is definitely better than architecture,”

“I know.” Tommy expressed. “I know that, Will! And I would be doing it if I could, but I can’t—“

“Because of Sam.” Wilbur finished, Tommy clapped his hands together.

“Yep! There you go, you got it!” Tommy patronized.

They stopped. The teenager left, but an older woman boarded in their place.

“I think you should switch studies,” Wilbur suggested. Tommy slapped his forehead, he wasn’t going to drop this.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not what Sam wants.”

Wilbur sighed. “You do not have to care about what other people want all the time, Tommy.”

“I don’t give a shit about what other people want! Just Sam!” Tommy defended.

“Really?” Wilbur taunted. “It seems that is the only thing you care about, each time you talk to me. Like Tubbo and Ranboo! You think about how just you living affects others, and it makes you want to stop!”

“What’s the point then?!” Tommy cried.

“Making everyone happy all the time is an impossible task,” Wilbur said. “Sometimes you have to deal with the fact that you can not just please everyone all the time.”

“Then what can I do?” Tommy groaned— Wilbur wasn’t giving him any answers.

“Make yourself happy. Do what you wanna do. Put your foot down to him, Tommy. Hell, grow a spine.”

The train slowed. No on or off.

“And what do I do if I lose Sam because of it?” Tommy asked.

“Sam is not going to hate you for pursuing what you enjoy, Tommy.”

“He might.”

“That is purely hypothetical. I did not hate my brother for doing fencing instead of music with me.”

“I’m not your brother.”

That sounded a lot harsher than Tommy meant it to. Tommy was just stating a fact. Something that they both knew was true. A fact. They couldn’t change that. Tommy couldn’t look at Wilbur’s expression. He picked at the thread to stop himself from digging his nails into his arm.

The I wish I was, went unsaid.

Maybe in another lifetime, they could’ve been. There, Tommy would’ve followed Wilbur to the end of the world. Perhaps Wilbur would sing him the songs he talked about writing.

This was unfortunately not that timeline.

Tommy had Sam, and he loved Sam, and it was unfair to treat him otherwise.

“I— I’m sorry,” Tommy stumbled, rubbing his face. “That was mean. I… I just don’t want to disappoint him, ya know?

They stopped, again. The older woman left. Two men and a woman boarded, laughing with each other. Tommy assumed they were drunk.

“It is okay,” Wilbur assured. There was no pain in his voice. “and yeah, I know. But you are miserable, Toms.” He said. “I do not think your brother wants you to be miserable either.”

“Well,” Tommy hesitated. “I mean. There is an alternative—“

“Not that.”

“Ugh, okay.”

“Tell your brother you do not enjoy architecture, okay? Then you can tell him that you are also failing it.”

“I don’t want to do that.” Tommy groaned.

“Would you rather he find out when you are kicked out of school?” Wilbur chided.

Tommy crossed his arms, leaning back into the hard plastic. “Good point,” Tommy murmured. “If you are wrong— I’m going to rub it in your face.”

“I am never wrong,” Wilbur remarked, confidently.

“You better fucking hope. If Sam grounds me and I’m still studying architecture by next week I am going to push you into the tracks, asshole.”

“You can try,” Wilbur jokes. “I do not think you will be very effective.”

“I’ll drag you with me,”

Wilburs stop was coming. Another night was closing.

He scooted out of the seat. “Let me know how it goes,” Wilbur hummed.

“If I don’t show up I’m either dead or grounded,” Wilbur chuckled; like it was a joke. It was not.

“See you next week Tommy.”

Tommy mumbled a good-bye, watching Will leave.

Tommy opened his palms. The stinging pain had subsided, the scrapes were still visible though. Tommy checked his sneakers, making sure the laces were still tied.

His palms weren’t the issue, though. His knee was. Maybe he could avoid Sam in the morning. Tommy didn’t have any classes tomorrow— he could tag in his room until Sam left. Tommy can do that. Then, Tommy could tell him that he had fallen down the stairs when he had gone outside for a walk. That was a lie that Tommy could spin.

On some level, Tommy felt guilty lying to him. Tommy just couldn’t tell him. He wasn’t necessarily lying, just narrowly avoiding the truth. He was just not telling.

When Tommy’s stop came, the drunken group at the front was calling for him. Tommy ignored them, he did however speed walk out the doors once they were open. Tommy rushed up the stairs, he didn’t see anyone follow him, but Tommy wanted to put distance between him and them. Tommy was not getting mugged. Nope. Fourth time doing this and he hasn’t gotten jumped. Tommy was not breaking that—

Tommy’s foot slipped, missing the step by an inch. By an inch! Tommy caught himself on the railing, not before hitting his sore knee on the cement stairs.

“Mother FUCKER—“

[taekooktimeline]

May 15 ~ 23, 2020:

BTS film Run episodes 126-127. This was days before the filming of Soop. 

Episode 126 starts with Tae and Hobi revealing the pictures selected to serve as their punishment for losing a previous game. Joon wonders what Tae will showcase and Tae tells them to guess.

On the other hand, with apparent privileges, Jk announces that he’s already seen it and gives the rest a clue.

Jin recalls a memorable incident and asks: “red glasses?” -

Jk confirms -

Jin goes “ahhh, it must be”, clearly having a moment of realization since he also had to guess, unlike Jk.

They start explaining what happened. Everyone was familiar because he accidentally posted the pic on twitter.

(Timestamp 1:18; Link ep 126: http://www.vlive.tv/video/233369)

In episode 127, a lot of the members struggled with rolling the hoop. Tae mentioned earlier that he had done this before, so, after succeeding himself, he stepped in to explain to Jk how to best complete this mission. He asked him if he got the hang of it, saw he did well, and left them on their own to proceed with the decathlon, Joon and Jin still struggling as they threw the hoop flying across the room and “fished” it.

Tae makes sure he’s good to go -

(Timestamp 12:20 ) 

https://twitter.com/taekookfolder/status/1356579250812248064?s=21 

Once Jk completed what they thought was the last mission, he got excited to go home. Jimin then tried to make eye-contact with him to send him an indirect message, or reminder, but he was having a hard time due to Jk stumbling and being in a hurry to exit the small space. Jimin stuttered while saying “let’s go home”, in plural form.

Jk says his goodbyes with confidence -

This prompts Jimin to call out his name and directly tell him to wait for him. He pulls at his ear while doing so - which could be a sign of unease and being worried about Jk’s behavior and the unfolding of events.

(Timestamp 21:07)

Despite the request, Jk is still occupied thinking about how he could’ve “gone home” sooner than Yoongi if he had done it just a tiny bit faster, which tells us that he was excited about beating the rest rather than going home soon. As explained below, he had to wait for Jimin either way.

On the way out, Jin - who owns an apartment in BTS’ dorm complex - catches up to Jk and casually offers to leave the building together, meaning it was a reasonable option and a real possibility under normal circumstances.

He’s met with a lamenting “Aaayy” as Jk cries out in humorous despair. He wished he could say yes and get off already.

Jin then begins to knowingly and animatedly affirm “It’s this!” mixed with “Aaah”s of realization. Jk confirms.

An amused Jk let’s us know that the situation is so obvious and planned out that they were able to read each other’s minds. Jin isn’t part of the suspected plot so he doesn’t necessarily need to be informed of the details in terms of execution and timing, but he certainly has to be aware of the general plan of showcasing that Jimin and Jk live together, separate from the rest (whether that’s strictly true or not).

They talk in code, per se. The wording changes from “it’s this” to “it’s that''. Jin probably meant that “this” situation was part of “that” plan, and used these words interchangeably.

Jk groans, expressing some level of annoyance / sorrow -

Jin continues making a show out of it, acting silly and bringing a smile to Jk’s face. This is reminiscent of the time Tae said “we can’t be friends” in Taekook’s recent vlive and they both laughed. Jin changes the verb tense and says “it was that?” –we suspect referencing Jimin’s request.

(Behind the scenes: https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x7z410v, Timestamp 3:48) 

Jk sticks to the plan and waits.

(Timestamp 26:25)

When Tae and Jimin compete to decide who’ll go home sooner, Jk implies he’s rooting for Jimin because they are heading to the same place, unlike Tae. At least that’s what they want everyone to clearly understand. The point is that, regardless of what their actual living situation is like, even if it hypothetically were to be true - this was the start of their multiple efforts to highlight that Jikook were each other's only flatmates. The authors must remind the readers we do not know the exact living situation of the members and are open to any and all scenarios. Jikook are very close friends and could live together, taking into account Taekook’s restrictions. However, based on some events mentioned further down this paragraph, we speculate this run moment is highly showcased and planned with the intention of furthering the closeting strategy with taekook, as many would think it’s incompatible with them being a couple. After all, Jk could’ve shared a car with Jin. Keep in mind this was the month the strongest closeting strategies were put into effect (tk’s “awkward” vlive, jikook’s living situation, Soop’s “reconnecting” talk...). Additionally, BTS’ first contract was about to be replaced by the new one and, apart from that, dispatch started to act hostile towards the group, although it didn’t last long. BH could have been trying to cut ties with the dreaded magazine responsible for exposing celebrities, but it didn’t go well and kept relations ongoing later in the year. These strategies must’ve still been helpful though. 

Jk awkwardly exaggerates his body movements while saying the next sentence:

Tae loses. Captions -

(Timestamp 30:40)

Tae is last in the group and has to spell out BTS in dominoes before going home. Jk checks up on Tae while Jimin changes his outfit.

Without being asked, he gives him tips and describes how he should do it.

Tae suddenly asks him to do it for him.

Jk complies without protest.

Jk and Jimin end up staying to help. Tae even takes advantage and quickly changes clothes while the other two work on the dominoes. 

(Timestamp 33:56)

Once back, Tae joined them on the task while supporting his weight next to Jk’s inner thigh.

As Tae finishes the task and gives his ending speech to the camera, Jk runs his fingers through his hair, playfully trying to hide a domino in it.

https://twitter.com/kookvtwins/status/1356584631496306689?s=21

Jk then accidentally drops the domino, almost causing the hard work to collapse. Tae pauses in his speech to share a bright, fond smile with Jk. Tae coos something to him, though subtitles don’t pick it up (some say he said “did you?”. Sara hears 괜찮아 = Gwaenchana= “it’s fine”).

Tae then proceeds to run his hand up and down Jk’s inner thigh, going way up his thigh. The movement is a soothing one and could be read as “It was a close call, but it’s fine. Just be careful”.

(Timestamp 34:47)

https://twitter.com/taekookfolder/status/1356581723736141826?s=21 

Close up -

https://twitter.com/purple_taekook/status/1356584535408971780?s=21 

Closer -

Tae starts slapping Jk’s thigh loudly. You can see his arm moving, and the sounds, though you can’t actually see the action.

(Timestamp 35:09) 

Thread for reference - https://twitter.com/tkkfrvr/status/1356588457779372033?s=21 

The maknae line all join hands in solidarity. Tae’s luck was at stake. 

Jimin initiates the gesture in support of Tae, who in turn asks for Jk’s hand. The youngest intertwines it with his, but they change the approach to turn it into a group hand hold, which momentarily confuses Jk and it’s the reason his hand searches for Tae’s -

https://twitter.com/faithfulkv/status/1356679447114579969?s=21 

Group hold -

(Timestamp 36:00)

Sadly, the dominoes didn’t fall all at once, so Tae stayed overtime. Jimin tells him he loves him before leaving with Jk.  This goodbye was given a main focus, making it a successfully completed mission. The narrative was being set.

(Timestamp 36:35; 36:55)

Link episode 127: http://www.vlive.tv/video/234891 

[robotnik-mun]

You know how Johnny Lightfoot was originally going to genuinely betray the Freedom Fighters because of how “unbeatable” Robotnik looked? For what it’s worth, the idea has some merit, and I suppose he makes better sense than Tekno the Canary, but the timing could’ve been better, considering how the Agent X story arc was happening around the time Mobius was enjoying some freedom while Robotnik was shrunk down to the size of an atom, which kind of defeats the purpose for betrayal. Sure, Johnny Lightfoot deserved some character storylines aside from the one about Commander Brutus, that apparent crush on Amy that didn’t go anywhere, and his unfortunate death, but it all has to make sense. Anyway, let’s say you came to the Agent X idea yourself and succeeded in having him be exposed as one of Sonic’s own friends, how would you play it out?

Yep, I had read about how Johnny was initially planned to be revealed as a traitor before Kitching determined that he was 'too nice' to do such a thing, and I am inclined to agree. While I appreciate the attempt to insert a bit of character drama, I can't really envision any of the Fleetway Freedom Fighters ever willingly betraying the group to Robotnik. Even Shortfuse, the most flawed of the lot, absolutely HATED Robotnik for what he had done to him personally. And then of course we get into the point you bring up about how this was happening AFTER Robotnik was removed from power and no longer ruling over Mobius...

It's not an idea I'd really come to myself given that it'd feel out of character and difficult to justify. Nor can I really use the 'Johnny Was Captured And Replaced By A Robot Spy' excuse because THAT one was already done with Porker, and I'd really hate to recycle major plot points like that.

Hypothetically if it were me... well, Sonic'd basically be shocked to his core and perhaps even in denial at first, especially if it WAS Johnny. Alongside Porker he's one of Sonic's oldest friends, so something like this would hit him especially hard... and make him especially furious once the reality sank in. I would expect that Johnny's plan, whatever it was, would be thwarted, but he would go on to escape into Robotnik's employ. Thus Johnny would become a re-occuring minion of Robotnik's, albeit an extremely reluctant one driven more by hopelessness rather than malice. Sonic in turn would go through a long period of having an even worse attitude than normal, as well as an absolutely intense hatred for his former friend, to the point of making him self destructive whenever Johnny gets involved.

Upon the defeat of Robotnik's empire, Johnny turns himself in, forced to confront that he was wrong and that he betrayed his comrades, his friends and his planet for nothing, and basically stays there for the rest of the series, even willingly returning to jail when given the chance to escape. Who knows, maybe he eventually winds up dying as he did in the regular continuity, only this time doing so saving the lives of his friends in the process.

This hits Sonic even harder than it did before, since by that point he'd been avoiding Johnny out of sheer hurt, not even visiting him while he was in prison... and now that Johnny's dead, he realizes that despite everything he still cared about the guy, and now there's no way for him to let Johnny know or even try to reconcile a little. Thus prompting him to try and be a bit less harsh and to change his behavior.

Or something. This isn't something I've really thought over before, so, I don't have much in terms of specifics so much as a broad, vague idea of things.

[erzherzog-von-edelstein]

On the Banks of the Delaware

Summary: America gets to know the German state that England hired to help fight him. It doesn’t go as he expects.

Period: The American War of Independence.

Characters: America and Hesse

Word Count: 1.5K

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

The general told America in a letter that they had defeated a group of foreign soldiers, and were holding the officers captive. That was exactly what Washington had planned for days, and America was overjoyed that it had gone so well.

Once the prisoners were back in camp after a very long and wet trip back, America allowed himself to relax and feel some sense of triumph. He had struck a blow against England and he was sure that it would be an important one.

But, he was surprised when Washington added, “It seems that one of them is like you, and I think that you should be responsible for him. Keep him here and get information if you can.” 

America was wary of whoever this fellow country was, but he felt like it would reflect poorly on him if he did not extend some courtesy. He had not been completely oblivious to England’s lessons about how to behave in war.

General Washington led a tall man in a Hessian uniform, and America stood out of respect. He wasn’t certain whether it was strange to do for an enemy, but it seemed correct.

The general left him alone with the man, and America decided that it was best to introduce himself. He extended a hand, and said, “I’m America.” The man avoided his hand and said, “I know.”

America awkwardly withdrew his hand, unsure it he had done something wrong. He tried again as the other sat down and loosed the tie holding his hair, “And you’re Hesse?” As Hesse nodded he released his dark hair from his ponytail, “I am. I see you’ve already heard of me.”

A curtain of long dark waves fell around his shoulders, and America found himself staring. Hesse was very attractive, incredibly angular and sharp. The smattering of scars across his face only added to the sense that he was striking to look at. The loose hair softened him to the point that America could feel his face growing hot under his gaze.

Hesse said, “Do you have anything to drink? I could use something strong.” America said, pointedly, “General Washington ordered your rum to be destroyed.”

Hesse sighed like this was deeply annoying. There was a kind of calm arrogance about the man, and it was somehow charming. He said, “A terrible waste if you ask me. Rum isn’t cheap.”

America stiffly sat across from him, and repeated a well worn lesson from his childhood, “Alcohol is a vice. It makes men behave badly.” Hesse rolled his eyes and replied, “You’re such a Puritan. Trust me, young man, a little vice keeps you sane.”

America shook his head. He knew what he believed in and he was not going to budge. The last thing he needed on his hands was unruly drunk soldiers. He replied, “I have ale if you want something.”

Hesse shook his head, and all of his waves moved in a way that America found intriguing. He replied, “No, I would rather not. The beer that you make is barely better than water.”

America shrugged, since he did not care one way or another, but it seemed polite to offer. He turned his attention to a different subject that had been on his mind, “Can I ask you something?” Hesse shrugged, “If you would like. I’m your guest.”

America bit his lip and said, “What do you have against me? I’ve never met you before and you’re fighting me.”

Hesse laughed, and America couldn’t understand why. Before he could ask, Hesse clarified, “My dear boy, that is not it at all. Arthur is paying me to be here, and he is paying me very well.”

America hadn’t thought about the power that gold may have. He felt naive when he asked, “So, could I convince you to join me?” Hesse laughed against and said, “If you had a better offer I would. But judging from the state of your boots, you’re in no position to.”

America asked, though he knew it was hypothetical, “What would you do if I could offer a fortune?” Hesse smirked and replied, “You get rich first, and then we’ll talk.”

It was a frustrating dead end, and he knew that he could not push harder. He hardly had the money to pay for his soldiers’ uniforms, and it showed. America tried to turn the conversation to something that he knew. He said, “Do you know Gilbert? He’s my mentor.”

It seemed like a safe topic of conversation, since Prussia was the only other German he had met. He had heard about Hannover, and England’s relationship with him, but England’s distance had meant that America had never met him. And he felt quite proud to say that Prussia had taught him.

Much to his surprise, Hesse chuckled and said, “Oh yes, I do know my cousin. I know him much better than you do.”

America was not sure what to make of the cryptic statement. But, before he could ask any questions, Hesse continued unprompted, “He thinks I’m a scoundrel and I think that he is a fool.”

America could not understand him at all. The man who had taught him so much about strategy and discipline that he could turn the tide of the war was not a fool. He felt the desire to defend Prussia, even if he probably did not need it.

He replied, pointedly, “You must not know him very well if you think that.”

Hesse gave him a knowing smirk and then crossed his legs so that he could reach his boot. Then, he started to pull off the shoe. America said, without thinking to find a tactful way to ask, “What are you doing?” Hesse replied, “Your general made me stand in a river. My stockings are wet and I would rather have them off.”

Even if it made sense, America was not sure if he should object. It certainly did not seem like proper behavior, but he didn’t know if it was normal amongst soldiers. He decided it was better to not say anything in case he was wrong.

Hesse took the silence to continue speaking, “I am not saying that Gilbert is unintelligent. He knows his craft very well. But, he is still naive enough to use his skills for righteousness.”  He raised one eyebrow and added, “And he’s apparently judged yours to be worth his involvement.”

He succeeded in pulling off his boot and dropped it with a thud. America said, slightly defensive, “And you don’t believe in a righteous cause?” Hesse looked remarkably handsome as he smirked and nodded, “Here’s my wisdom for you: One man’s righteous cause is another’s fool’s errand. Gold is not subjective. It is tangible, and it is unchanging.”

America bristled and said, “I think that’s very honorable of him. I am grateful for all of his training. ”

Hesse began to roll down his wet stocking in a way that made it nearly impossible to not stare at his muscular calf. He shook his head slightly and said, “Honor is such a fickle concept. You think he is honorable because he is helping you.”

America wasn’t certain how to refute him, but he was also certain that his gratitude was sincere. Hesse added, “Though, he could have done it because he wanted to make dear old Fritz happy. If his king orders something, he will do it.”

He lowered his foot and brought the other boot up so he could work on that foot. America didn’t like the implication that Prussia had only acted on orders and he replied, “You make it sound like discipline is a fault. Do you think that Gilbert should really fight for money like you do?”

Hesse took off the other boot, and rubbed the bottom of his foot like he was still trying to ward off the cold of the Delaware. He nodded slightly and said, “He could make a lot of money if he did, especially with his reputation.”

America found himself staring at Hesse’s exposed calf and trying to concentrate. He wished that he had poured himself a glass of ale. He replied, “I think that some people are born with a sense of good, and they act on it. I think that Gilbert is one of those people. I like to think that I am too. You may not believe me now, but I’m going to do good in the world.”

Hesse smirked again and replied, “I assure you, Gilbert was not born with it. He had it beaten into him by monks. He may have left the church, but he’s still that same monk looking for a crusade to fight. He like you that way. You may not be a Puritan anymore, but you still think a single sip of rum will send you straight to Hell.”

America felt like he didn’t know enough about Prussia’s past to know what he was talking about. All he knew was that Prussia was someone who had the expertise to help him. But, he could not speak or else he might reveal his own ignorance about European history.

Hesse finished removing his second stocking and he then laid the stockings carefully over the back of a chair to let them dry. Hesse said, “I am done now. You can stop looking so scandalized. I am not going to take off my breaches.”

The very thought of Hesse taking off anymore clothing made America blush. He attempted to stutter out an answer, “Uh…yes, I mean, don’t do that.” 

America felt himself blush even more furiously. Hesse said with a smile, like he had figured out some puzzle, “I think I see why you are defending Gilbert now.”

[dramaticsnakes]

How two exasperated doctors adopted three robots

Characters: Janus, Logan, Virgil, Patton, and Roman

Warnings: Gunshots and cursing, but I think that’s it. Let me know if I missed something!

Summary: 

After being hired at the Neo-mechanical Engineering and Research Facility, Dr. Janus Dedrick began noticing some suspicious things going on there. He decided to take matters into his own hands, and look into it.

Meanwhile, Janus' frustrating colleague Dr. Logan Croft, had apparently gotten the same idea.

A victorian steampunk fantasy scientists and robots AU.

Word count: 7358

A sincere thank you to @rainbowbutterfrosting on tumblr for beta-reading this fic! It means the world to me.

Read on AO3

Janus Dedrick often considered himself quite brilliant. He had more than one doctorate to prove it, even if such titles couldn’t always be considered truthful. They could either prove that you’d worked hard or that you merely had the money to spare, so that wasn’t what made Janus consider himself brilliant. Neither was his position at the Neo-mechanical Engineering and Research Facility. A Facility that was among the first to attempt to figure out how to utilize the previously inaccessible “magic” (as it had been unprofessionally dubbed thus far). His confidence was hardly linked to a title such as “Dr. Dedrick”. According to Janus, his brilliance shined the most when he was doing things entirely on his own accord.

Such as, breaking into the Neo-mechanical Engineering and Research Facility at 1am on a Saturday.

One might wonder what Dr. Janus Dedrick was doing, elegantly flipping switches he wasn’t supposed to flip, and walking through passages that were clearly locked away for a reason. It was quite simple really. Janus wanted to figure out what said reason was. Just because Janus worked at the Facility didn’t mean he had access to any and all knowledge about it, and Janus simply intended to change that. Really, was hiding information from the public not enough? If the Facility didn’t intend to make scientists and engineers curious, perhaps they shouldn’t have a gate practically labelled ‘prohibited’ that led to a closed off section of the Facility, which hardly anyone was allowed to enter. They were practically begging for a tactical break-in.

So that was what Janus was doing. In the weeks leading up to it, he’d left skilful remarks, and made sure his duties led him to the right offices. He’d opened a few drawers and lockers, using his fashion-choice of constantly wearing gloves to his advantage. It wasn’t even that difficult, and his suspicions only grew with each new discovery. The fact that there was a prohibited area wasn’t the only weird thing going on. There were blueprints that contradicted each other in strange ways, parts that hadn’t been delivered on time, and multiple other minor inconsistencies. Janus could respect things being kept close to one’s chest, but he also respected anyone intelligent enough to uncover what was being deliberately hidden from them.

Janus heard the final lock click and the steel gears turned on the door. The passage that opened was dark. There were no windows in sight, and even if there were, it was as previously stated, 1am. Janus riffled through the pockets on his vest underneath his cape that he wore in the cold. He got a hold of a box of matches and struck one. He lit the oil lamp in his other hand, which illuminated a small area. Not enough to see everything ahead of him, but enough to ensure that he didn’t easily step on anything vital (or trip, harming himself, who was also a rather vital asset).

His steps echoed down the hall. He noticed a few paintings on the walls, that he hadn’t seen before. There were other paintings in the Facility, but these were different. Made by a different painter perhaps? Some depicted various mechanics, and one or two were of people Janus had seen around the Facility at times but hadn’t had much to do with. He wondered if they worked in this part of the Facility sometimes. What had they done to gain access there? Janus wasn’t certain if he was bitter or excited to see what it was the Facility was attempting to hide. You wouldn’t have this level of security for a couple of unimportant documents or employee files.

The room expanded the further Janus made it. While Janus couldn’t see the entirety of it, he became increasingly aware of just how big the room was. The light was reflected from the surface of a machine, that was several feet taller than Janus. He put the oil lamp a bit closer to it, to get a good look at the switches and buttons. There was a brass panel on it, that didn’t seem too complicated to figure out.

Then Janus heard steps from a door on a different side of the machine. Damn. Who the hell would be there at this hour? Janus scanned the room for a good place to hide, but quickly realized that it was too late.

A man walked around the machine, and locked eyes with Janus. The man wore a black vest with a dark blue necktie. At first Janus was frightened, fearing that his otherwise rather ingenious plan had been found out, but once Janus had a good look at the man, his expression faltered with exasperation. The man had a pair of glasses and a confused look that made Janus’ blood boil.

“What the hell?” Janus said, because really it made no sense.

The man tilted his head slightly and looked Janus up and down. “Dr. Dedrick? To the best of my knowledge you are not allowed in here.”

Janus clenched his fists, but then his expression turned smug. “To the best of my knowledge, neither are you, Dr. Croft.”

Dr. Logan Croft was an agitating individual, who unfortunately happened to be Janus’ colleague. He was hired a few months after Janus and had almost immediately earned a promotion through reputation alone. He was known as a prodigy, who had always passed at the top of his class. Even if his family hadn’t had any sort of formal education previously, Logan had apparently against all odds made it to one of the most esteemed universities. Impressive sure, but it wasn’t as if Janus hadn’t done just as much, if not more. At least Logan Croft hadn’t had to change his name in the process.

The two had many overlapping fields of expertise, which could either result in a wonderful friendship or a bitter rivalry. In this case, the latter was more prominent. Logan’s entire demeanour and the way he was always so hung up on rules and the law annoyed Janus to no end.

Logan adjusted his glasses. “That is correct.”

So why, of all people on this godforsaken planet, was Dr. Logan Croft in the prohibited part of the Facility? Janus huffed with amused disbelief. “If you are here without permission, surely there is no reason for you to condemn me for doing the same?”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t condemning anyone. I was simply wondering what you’re doing here.” he sighed, “Though I wouldn’t consider myself surprised.”

Janus gasped and placed one hand on his chest, taking mock offense. “And why is that, dear doctor?”

“You have a history of doing things you shouldn’t be doing.” Logan said matter-of-factly.

Janus grinned. “Ah, but it’s only truly wrong if anyone of importance notices.”

Logan huffed. “I noticed.”

“Anyone of importance.” Janus repeated, but Logan didn’t react with enough annoyance for it to be satisfying. Janus gestured towards Logan with his free hand. “Though that doesn’t answer why you are here. It seems uncharacteristic of you.”

At this, Logan looked at the floor, and led his hand through his hair. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then locked eyes with Janus again. “I believe I’ve made a discovery.”

“And what might that be?” Janus asked with a silky tone, though the spite was clear underneath it.

“It doesn’t concern you unless I find adequate proof.”

Janus furrowed his eyebrows and chuckled with disbelief. “With all due respect, Dr. Croft, I don’t think hiding your intentions at this point will be easy for you.”

The ‘for you’ was added to provoke some form of anger, and judging by Logan’s clenched fists at the words, Janus succeeded. “And what are your intentions, Dr. Dedrick?”

“I asked first.”

“No, you did not.”

“You simply said, you were wondering what I was doing here. You never asked the question.” Janus said, adjusting his bowler hat.

Logan gave an exasperated sigh. “I suppose that is technically correct.” Janus looked at Logan’s barely illuminated face with amused anticipation. Logan looked at Janus with a serious expression. “I have had my suspicions that the Facility has been hiding something for a while.”

“Is that so?”

“After looking through some blueprints and files, I’ve noticed that there are… Patterns of inconsistencies if you can say it like that.”

Janus didn’t say anything for a few moments. He wasn’t sure what he found funnier and more ironic. The fact that Logan was there for the exact same reason as him, the fact that Logan thought he knew more, or the fact that Logan had apparently also looked at files they weren’t allowed to look at. “Such as the delayed magitoite delivery?” Janus said almost emotionlessly.

Logan turned his head towards Janus. His mouth was gaping slightly. “And the box of 20 teeth gears.”

Janus smiled wryly. “Not to mention the blueprint detailing the components of a hypothetical robotic arm.”

Logan looked a sceptical for a bit, and Janus hoped that it meant he’d learned something Logan hadn’t. Logan continued. “There was a file that talked about a use of magitoite I haven’t seen anyone in the Facility attempting yet.”

Ah. Janus didn’t know that. He tried to think of something to say to have the last word but couldn’t think of anything he could express in that moment.

Logan moved some hair away from his eyes. His expression was nearly unreadable. “So, you’ve been conducting your own investigation?”

“I have.” Janus replied.

The two men stared at each other in silence for a few breaths. Logan looked thoughtful, and Janus didn’t like the sight. Why did he have to run into Logan Croft? At least it would’ve been a little exciting to explain himself to someone with authority, instead of this pretentious idiot. The thought that Logan had been looking into the same matters as Janus made him want to scream. “I have a proposition.” Logan said

“Yes?”

“Instead of getting in each other’s way, I let you follow me on my investigation.” Logan said.

Janus clenched his fist and groaned. “Oh, how generous of you.” he said sarcastically.

“Thank you.” Logan said, nonchalantly.

Janus sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to attempt to explain what I’ve learned so far to you, then.”

Logan huffed. “Guess I will too.”

Janus tutted. “Unfortunate.”

“Indeed.”

Logan turned his head towards the machine in the room. “What is this?”

Janus looked at the machine and at the mechanics on it. As he looked around the room, he saw the hint of a pipe and some wires that led towards the other end of the room. “It appears to be connected to something. Perhaps some sort of opening mechanism?”

“Do you know how it functions?” Logan asked.

“I haven’t had the chance to l-“

“Never mind I’ve got it.” Logan said, barely acknowledging Janus’ words. He flicked a switch and pushed a button. The machine made some noises, that sounded like bits of metal grinding against one another, and steam came out of an opening on the left. There was the sound of some type of gate moving upwards, further into the room.

Janus groaned. “I could’ve figured that out as well.”

“But you did not.” Logan said, and while it seemed indifferent, Janus didn’t miss the sly look in his eyes.

Janus and Logan continued down the passage with an oil lamp each. On the way, they recounted their discoveries. Most of the time they finished each other’s sentences, unfortunately having discovered nearly the same thing, though Janus savoured each time he knew something Logan didn’t.

Click

“What’s that noise?” Janus asked, stopping in his tracks, holding up one arm with concern and confusion.

“It was a click.” Logan replied.

Janus rolled his eyes and looked at the other. “Oh, I definitely didn’t realize that. But where did it come from?”

“Well, it could’ve been a few things. There are plenty of technologies in-“

Logan never got to finish the sentence, as a bullet flew past them after a quick and sudden ‘bang’. It dashed into the wall beside them, leaving a smoking hole in the metal. Janus’ eyes widened, and he saw that Logan nearly dropped his oil lamp in surprise. As soon as Janus heard another ‘click’, he scanned the area. He noticed another bullet flying towards them. Towards Logan specifically.

“Get down!” he yelled and gave Logan’s sleeve a tug. Logan ducked accordingly and dodged the small bullet.

Logan’s mouth gaped. “It would appear that it was a gun.”

Janus narrowed his eyes and looked ahead. “Well-spotted, Dr. Croft. Glad to know your doctorate is being used to comprehend such vital information.”

Logan glared at Janus. “This is hardly the time for-“

Janus tugged at Logan’s sleeve again, and they ducked once more. The bullet wasn’t anywhere close to hitting them this time around though. Who was it that was aiming at them? What was aiming at them?

“Authorized personnel only.” a voice, that didn’t sound like anything Janus had heard before spoke. It sounded forced and inhuman in a sense. As if it was coming through a phonograph. There wasn’t any emotion behind it. Logan and Janus looked at each other. What should they do about that? Janus was almost convinced that Logan would turn around and leave. Janus would never do something like that. He was getting too curious.

Perhaps Janus had underestimated the other doctor, as Logan closed his eyes tightly, sighed, and grabbed Janus’ arm. “Come on.” Logan said, practically dragging Janus further as if he was a dog. Somewhat offended, Janus ripped his arm away from Logan and brushed his own shoulder.

“I can walk myse-“

Another bulled was fired, but it was several few away from both of them.  “Authorized personnel only.” the voice repeated. Janus breathed and picked up the pace. Logan did the same. Janus’ and Logan’s legs were almost equally long, so their pace was annoyingly similar, but Janus tried not to think about that. They had to avoid the danger at hand.

They made it to the end of the hall when they noticed the source of the bullets. It did indeed seem to come from a gun, but the person, or well perhaps not a person, who was holding the gun was the interesting part. The thing that held it, was shaped like a human, but without the skin. Where there should be skin there was brass and steel, with nails in between each piece. It had hair on top of its head, which made Janus even more confused. What was the point of the hair? Purple, covering the eyes… No, not eyes. Round holes that were lit up with a purple glow. It wore a black shirt and a black chequered jacket on top of it, and there were three gears turning by its chest. Another strange thing was, that the gun wasn’t held by it, but was directly attached to the top of the steel hand.

It didn’t take multiple doctorates to conclude that this resembled a robot. Not exactly the ideal hypothetical version, but a simple one. It was mostly a robot in appearance, and a sound player and automatic (terribly aiming) gun in function. Though Janus couldn’t help but feel like it was built to be capable of more than that. It didn’t make much sense though, because that would require technology that wasn’t developed. Perhaps it was just an experiment? “Authorized personnel only.”

Janus scoffed. “Thanks, we get the gist.”

The robot(?) moved the gun back, there was a click, and another shot was fired. This time it went straight for Janus’ head, but he ducked before it did any damage.

“Hm, seems it generally has a terrible aim, except for a few select exceptions.” Logan said, deep in thought, as if he wasn’t in immediate danger.

Janus furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the human-shaped gunner. “It’s almost as if it hits by chance rather than technique.”

“How do you think we can shut it down?” Logan asked. It sounded a bit like Logan was a teacher asking the class a question, but Janus couldn’t help but chuckle at it rather than feel offended. It was strange, that Logan hadn’t turned around yet. That he’d rather shut down their mechanical attacker and move on. Perhaps Logan was a little more driven than Janus had initially thought.

“So far, nothing is preventing us from getting closer.” Janus responded. He tilted his head and cooed, “Or does that scare you, doctor?”

Logan let out a ‘ha’. “Not in the slightest. I’d say its lack of aiming abilities renders it rather unintimidating.”

Janus scanned the gunner and noticed that there was a panel on the back. It was possible that there was a switch on there or behind it, which could shut it down. While it had legs, it didn’t seem like it was able to move. Janus approached it just as another meaningless shot was fired, and Logan almost looked annoyed as Janus did so without narration or comment. Just as Janus reached the side of the robot, its other arm stretched out. The sides of it started moving strangely, as if bits of it were finding a place. Before long, two metal plates started reaching through the arm, covering Janus’ path like a shield.

Hold on.

Janus knew of that technology. In fact, he knew it well. “That’s my technology!” he exclaimed, as he looked at the shield. He recognized it on the way, the shield was triggered once he’d reached a certain radius from it. He created it about a year prior, having been tasked to develop a technology that could keep out unwanted visitors. It had still been in an experimental phase then, and he’d been moved to other projects since.

“Ah, it did look rather simple, so I suppose that makes sense.” Logan said, and Janus sighed sharply through his teeth. He tapped the side of the shield, one on the top, one on the bottom, and one on the left, which led the robot to withdraw it slightly. Once Janus reached the back of the robot, he noticed that there was in fact a switch on the back. Janus thought it was a little too easy to see, for it to be an efficient design, so it was likely just a prototype, made to be turned off easily in case of malfunction. The fastened panel made him curious, but he figured that shutting it off first would be ideal. He flipped the switch, and there was a loud, hollow, humming noise, and some clicks from within.

“Hm.” Logan said, “The eyes aren’t lit up anymore.”

“I turned it off, doctor.” Janus said.

“Thank you, I am aware.” Logan replied, a clear bitterness in his tone.

The body felt heavier after being turned off, and it seemed Janus had to hold it up to prevent it from falling. Janus placed his oil lamp on the floor, looked down at his pockets, and grabbed a screwdriver. Logan approached the harmless robot and stood right behind Janus. Logan narrowed his eyes. “Do you bring that with you everywhere?”

Janus smirked and rolled his eyes, as he placed the screwdriver on the screws that fastened the panel on the gunner’s back. “Of course, I’d bring some tools to a break-in. I am not completely dense and inexperienced.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Are break-ins one of your usual pastimes?”

Janus didn’t reply to that, as he removed each screw from the metallic back. Logan was looking him over his shoulder, which was rather irritating. At times it could be fun, if Janus did everything just a little better than Logan would be able to, but Logan was the type who’d notice any small mistake, and Janus would never hear the end of it. To be fair, Janus would do something similar. He wrenched the panel off, which revealed a technology that was indeed exceedingly similar to the one he’d developed. There were more gears, and some of the wires were connected to other places than he was used to, but it wasn’t that difficult to make sense of.  

Something that stood out, however, were the bits of the wires, that were twisted in non-optimal ways. Something was being blocked, as if someone was deliberately trying to limit the functions. It didn’t take a genius to deduce, exactly how you could optimize the machine, though Janus wasn’t certain what the optimal version would be like. Would it have a better aim?

Right above all of the gears and wires, Janus saw that the inside of the robot was labelled ‘VIRGIL’.

“That’s not an ideal design.” Logan said.

“I know.” Janus said.

“Its speech centre has a larger vocabulary than ‘authorized personnel only’.” Logan added, which made Janus’ eyes flick to a box in the right corner, whose wires went up towards the mouth.

“Well-spotted.” Janus said, in a way that sounded like he’d immediately noticed himself. He would, of course, if he hadn’t been looking at how his own technology was being used. Janus looked up, and saw that there was a door, blocked by a large metal plate. Logan stood up, and pressed a few buttons nearby, and the plate moved up, scraping against the wall.

“This was the place it was guarding, it seems.” Logan said, nodding into a dark room, “Are you coming?”

“Of course.” Janus said. He placed the screwdriver in his pocket, and allowed the robot to fall just a little, and managed to cradle it in his arms. It wasn’t too heavy. He noticed that the eyes that had seemed pupil-less while they were fully lit up, had something that resembled it anyway, only furthering Janus’ suspicion that it was meant for more.

”Why are you bringing that?” Logan asked.

“Just moving it out of the way for now, so we can make some adjustments and cover our tracks later.” Janus replied, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He let his eyes flick to the oil lamp. Logan furrowed his eyebrows, leaned down, and took it.

 The room was small, and everything in it was dusty. There were scattered notes and blueprints, and Janus quickly noticed that the blueprints were a great deal more detailed than he’d seen before. They were filled with drawings that looked like robot parts, and his mouth gaped upon the sight of a detailed magitoite formula. He wanted to rush over there and take it all, but he froze upon the sight of something even more remarkable.

On the ground, lying languid and lifeless, there were two robots. They were most definitely robots. They looked similar to the VIRGIL, that Janus was carrying in his arms, but they had their own entirely unique design. One wore a light blue short-sleeved suit with a grey pipe strapped over its shoulders. Its hair was red and curly, and Janus wondered if it was synthetic. It had a wide smile on its face, that seemed a little dead on the lifeless robot. The other was built from a more refined metal than the other two and had white broad-shouldered white shirt with a cravat. It also had a metallic red sash with various buttons on it, that lead from the top left to the bottom right. There wasn’t any light in any of their eyes, indicating that they were turned off, but once again Janus noticed that there was something resembling pupils there.

Logan’s eyes were fixed on the robots as well, and Janus could’ve sworn his eyes sparkled. “There… There are more…” Logan said breathlessly.

“Y-yes.” Janus said. He’d expected it to sound more articulate than that.

Logan was shaking, looking at the blueprints on the wall. Janus could hear his own breathing a little too clearly for his liking. Where should they even begin? Logan placed the two oil lamps on a nearby wooden table. “I suggest that we look at the… Robots, first.” Logan said, answering Janus’ unspoken question.

Janus nodded. He walked a little closer to the two bodies on the ground and carefully placed the lifeless VIRGIL next to them. Janus looked at the robots, and the machine in the corner. There were wires connecting to the backs of each one. “Should we try to turn them on?”

“We could dissect them.” Logan said, “And figure out how they function first. Judging by the VIRGIL’s functions, they could be hostile.”

Janus hummed. “I thought you said its lack of aiming abilities rendered it rather unintimidating.” he mimicked Logan’s voice at the last words.

Logan adjusted his glasses and exhaled sharply through his nose. “If you want to risk it, I’m not opposed to it.”

Janus smiled a little to genuinely for his own liking. He nodded towards the machine in the corner. “Try to turn that on, if it isn’t too complicated for you.” he said in a somewhat belittling tone.

Logan rolled his eyes and walked towards it. “Let me know if you need my help turning the robots on.”

“Well, if they’re based on my technology, I hardly see the problem.” Janus said, walking towards the mechanical bodies on the ground.

“I highly doubt they’d all use such a simple protection mechanic.” Logan said.

Janus didn’t bother replying to that. He looked at the three robots on the ground. He wasn’t too keen on turning on the gunner again, so he picked the one in the blue suit with the big smile. He unscrewed the panel on the back, revealing a system that was… Similar, but not entirely. For one, it didn’t seem to utilize Janus’ protection technology, but it did have something else going on. Once again, it was as if something was blocking it.

The name written on this one was ‘PATTON’.

Logan mumbled something to himself, having placed one hand on his chin. He grabbed a tool on the table that Janus couldn’t see, pushed something into the side of the machine, and flicked a large switch on the side. Gears on the walls started turning, and there was a hiss, as steam was released from the top of it. Janus felt some power in the wires of the robot. He flipped the switch on the back. It stood up, suddenly, and Janus almost fell backwards. He shuffled back to his feet and looked at the other side of the robot. The eyes lit up in a light blue colour. It hurt to look directly at them.

“Please state—order” the robot said, but Janus could tell it wasn’t a complete sentence. He looked at the wires inside. He squinted, and unscrewed the side of the speech centre, and switched some of the wires.

“What are you doing?” Logan asked from the other side of the room.

“Fixing it.” Janus stated, in a matter-of-factly tone that could almost be confused with something Logan would say.

Logan bit his lip. “Is that wise?”

“Please st—Please—state order—order.” the PATTON struggled.

Janus tightened one of the gears and gave the water container inside a tap. Steam was released from the mouth of the robot, and Janus moved his hands back abruptly.

“Something is happening.” Logan said, his mouth gaping.

“What?” Janus asked.

“The eyes are different.”

Janus stood up and moved to the front of the PATTON. It was true. The light faded just a little and they no longer looked quite as lifeless. There was a visible pupil and the mouth that had otherwise been stuck in an emotionless smile, moved just a little. As if there were flexible muscles in the jaw. For a moment it frowned, it moved its head in a way that was frighteningly human. It looked at its surroundings, confused, concerned, perhaps scared, until its eyes fell upon Janus and Logan. It smiled, in a sudden and natural motion as if it had done it a million times before. Steam was once again released and there were a few oddly satisfying clicks, as the PATTON moved its arm up in a mechanical, coordinated wave.

“Hey there kiddos. What can I do for you?”

The voice wasn’t as inhuman and mechanical as it had been before. In fact, if it wasn’t for the phonograph-like volume and quality, it could easily be confused as human. Janus and Logan looked at each other at the same time, eyes wide, and without a hint of a single snarky comment from either of them.

“I… I uhm…” Janus said, looking the robot up and down. This wasn’t possible. The design was too complicated, the tone and use of words completely distant from the words of any machine. What Janus was looking at was something that would be considered purely hypothetical. “Who are you?” he asked because no other words were cooperating with him.

“Oh! Where are my manners?” the impossible robot said. One arm moved in a few mechanic motions to the robot’s chest. “I’m Patton.” The eyes closed for a moment as Patton’s head tilted and its (their? his? her?) smile widened.

“That… This…” Logan tried, speechlessly. He shook his head. “I have questions.”

“I’ll answer anything, within the best of my ability.” Patton said with a polite nod.

Logan looked at Janus. “Dr. Dedrick, we do agree that this doesn’t make any sense, do we not?”

Janus nodded a bit too sheepishly for his own liking. He corrected his posture and pulled at his cape a little. “We do.”

“Usually a creation such as this would be considered…” Logan began.

“…purely hypothetical.” Janus finished. He looked at Patton who was smiling as if he was frozen in time. “And judging by the strange shipments, the use of my technology…”

“…the blueprints, the prohibited area, and everything in this room…” Logan added.

“…I assume that the Facility has been keeping some rather influential scientific progress from us, no?” Janus said, his voice gradually shifting into something more bitter.

“Yes.” Logan said with a nod. He looked at Patton. “What do you think Patton’s functions are?”

“Patton, what are your functions?” Janus echoed at the robot.

Patton barely moved. “My purpose is to assist humans with anything they might want help with. This includes but isn’t limited to: cooking, cleaning, holding objects, transporting objects, taking care of children, taking care of pets, and anything else I can be programmed or taught to do.” he closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again, “Though I apologize, I cannot do all tasks perfectly, as I have a few malfunctions. I am a prototype.”

Janus furrowed his eyebrows and Logan took a step closer. “Who built you?”

“My creators didn’t identify themselves, but I was produced by the Neo-mechanical Engineering and Research Facility.” Patton answered, moving his arms a bit more dynamically, in rather human gestures.

“When?” Janus asked.

“Depends on what year it is now.”

“1891.”

“A little more than four years ago” Patton responded.

“Four ye-“ Janus breathed and chuckled dryly. “There has been this advanced technology at the Facility for that long?” Janus didn’t know is he was more pissed or more ecstatic.

Logan’s breathing was shaky. “Why would they keep something like that from us? Surely it’d be ideal to have as many people as possible working to perfect such a technology instead of having them create a technology that already exists.”

Janus sighed and looked at his colleague. “Dr. Croft, surely you’re not dense enough not to recognize ill intentions?”

Logan looked at Janus with a strained, but neutral expression. “Surely you’re versed enough in the sciences to know, that we cannot jump to such a conclusion without proper data.”

“Oh, because I’m certain people with wonderful intentions would make a robot with a gun that shoots after anyone in range and protect their secrets with this much care.” Janus said sarcastically, gesturing with his arms.

Logan scoffed. “You’re one to talk about secrets.” Janus hissed through his teeth with exasperation.

“Are you talking about Virgil?” Patton said suddenly, sounding a lot less compliant than anything else he’d said. Janus could easily interpret a hint of confusion or concern in Patton’s voice, though that didn’t make much sense. “I- I mean, not to ro-butt in or anything.” Patton added with a smile, as if the robot had caught itself doing something bad and wanted to cover it up.

Logan gasped and squinted. “What did you just say?”

“Virgil?”

“No, the last part.”

Patton stuttered, “Ro-ro-butt in?”

That was… That was a pun.

“No no no that doesn’t make any sense. If wordplay isn’t the robot’s primary function, there is no way that would be a part of its language centre.”

Dr. Logan Croft was in fact, correct, even if it wasn’t what Janus would initially focus on. “Patton.” he said, in a tone that was meant to be friendly and polite. He felt somewhat foolish speaking like that to a machine, but it seemed that Patton was more than that. “Is making… puns… a part of your programming?”

Patton’s upper body moved back a little in a surprise. Patton looked down, in an almost ashamed manner. “No. I am so sorry… I-it’s one of my malfunctions I’m afraid.”

“That’s not…” Logan tried disbelievingly, “How did you learn that?”

“I uhm…” Patton tried, and Janus thought it was remarkable that the robot even added filler words like that. “Well, I once noticed that certain words in my language centre have similar pronunciations or meanings that can be utilized in different situations, and… And it’s terribly addicting.”

“That shouldn’t be…” Logan attempted. “That’s… That’s incredible!”

“Huh?” Patton said, tilting its head slightly.

“You’ve been able to learn from your programming without human interference! I can’t even begin to describe how unique and… Impossible that is.” Logan said. He locked eyes with Janus, and just then, Janus knew exactly was Logan was thinking.

“Magic…” Janus said. It was unbelievable. So much technology was right at their fingertips. Janus looked at Patton. “You mentioned Virgil, correct?” Janus asked, “Something was blocking its programming. Yours too. Why is that?”

For a moment, Patton’s mouth gaped, and the eyes were wide. Then Patton looked down in defeat. “I… I’m not sure. Some humans must have done it because it was the best option. Humans are good at that kind of thing.”

Janus scoffed. “Debatable.” He felt like there were a thousand questions to be asked, but there was a lot of information to take in. Everything was flying around him and meshing in an incomprehensible puddle, which was terribly inconvenient. He looked at Logan. “Should we turn on the others?”

Logan bit his lip. “I am… I am curious.”

“Oh! I can help you!” Patton said excitedly. He stopped moving for a moment. “I-if you desire, that is. What are your names if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Logan Croft.” Logan said.

“Janus Dedrick.” Janus said.

“Of course, Logan Croft and Janus Dedrick. Who would you like to turn on?”

Logan looked at the two robots on the floor. “How about… The one with the sash.”

“That’s Roman! He is a lot of fun.” Patton said. “I’m sure you’ll get him booted up in no time.” Patton winked and pointed at the boots he wore. Logan groaned, although there was still some light in his eyes from the entire situation. Janus couldn’t blame him. Unfortunate really.

“Wait, hold on.” Janus said, “Are you all considered… Are you referred to as a ‘him’?”

“Oh no no, not necessarily! It’s whatever you prefer to refer to us by really.” Patton said, frantically, once again acting as if he’d made a serious mistake.

“But… You use that among yourselves?” Janus asked.

“…Yes, but humans don’t usually do that.” Patton said.

“Where did you learn then?” Logan asked.

Patton paused, and his eyes became distant for a moment. Then he looked up, hesitantly. “I… I don’t know.”

Janus and Logan looked at each other once again, some sort of silent communication between them. Janus could almost forget just how much Logan annoyed him right then.

Patton walked over to Roman, and it dawned upon Janus, that it was the first time he’d seen the robot walk. The movements were loud, and you could clearly hear the metal scraping against itself while each joint moved up and down. It was still impressive. Janus and Logan followed.

“Let me know if I can do anything, to help. That’s what I’m here for.” Patton said.

Janus’ expression faltered a little as Patton said that. Having robots with functions like that made a lot of sense, but at the same time, this robot seemed to have… emotions and thoughts of his own? Janus couldn’t help but feel that there was something a bit sinister about having the robot act as a servant and nothing else.

“So… All of the robots have a full setting and a limited setting.” Logan stated.

“Will he shoot us at the full setting?” Janus asked, coldly.

“No no, Roman wouldn’t do that as far as I know.” Patton said with a smile. Janus almost wanted to comment on the ‘as far as I know’ but figured that saying it to the robot wouldn’t get him anywhere. Even if it was an advanced one.

“Where is my screwdriver…” he mumbled instead.

“Right over here, Janus Dedrick.” Patton said. Janus noticed Patton lean down, picking up the screwdriver from the floor. He marched towards Janus, extending his arm a little, which was apparently something he was capable of, and handed it to the doctor.

“Uhm… Thank you Patton.” Janus said, grabbing the screwdriver. Patton tilted his head and looked confused for a breath, but then his expression softened. It was remarkable how expressive he was. “No problem, Janus Dedrick.”

Janus unscrewed the panel on Roman’s back and fixed the wires and gears. He flicked the switch on the side, and the robot stood up. He didn’t stand up in the same clumsy way that Patton did. It was a little more coordinated and vivid. He held up his arms in a theatrical gesture. “Here comes the noblest Roman of them all!” he exclaimed. He stopped and looked at everyone in the room. “Hello there. How might I entertain you today?”

Ah. An entertainment robot? That seemed… Frivolous, but not entirely surprising. Interesting.

“What are you functions?” Logan asked.

“My, what an honor to meet such a dashing human on this… time of the day, I don’t have a clock function.” Roman said, bowing in a way that produced a few loud clicks. “I am Roman. Designed solely for your entertainment. I can recite all poems, plays, and songs I’ve ever heard.”

“Fascinating.” Logan whispered. “Can you produce poems and such on your own as well perhaps?”

“What?” Roman said, suddenly sounding very frightened, “Well… I…”

Janus squinted. He thought of the way Patton had acted upon the mention of his ‘malfunction’. “It wouldn’t be bad. It would be impressive if that is the case.” he explained.

Roman perked up. “I… Uh… I can!”

Janus watched Roman intently. These robots were truly advanced. Their language was so much like that of a human and their and they even hesitated in their sentences at times.

Logan looked at the final robot on the ground. “What’s it- what’s his function?”

“That’s Virgil! He protects humans!” Patton said.

“Did a great job at that earlier.” Janus remarked sarcastically, but no one reacted to it. Logan took the screwdriver out of Janus’ hand. “Hey!” Janus exclaimed. Logan walked towards the robot on the ground and started unscrewing the panel on the back. “Oh why, don’t bother asking or anything.”

“I apologize.” Logan said, though Janus could tell from the wry smile, that he’d done it partially because it was amusing. Logan removed the panel.

“It’s my technology, you know. I know more about fixing it.” Janus said.

“It’s really not that difficult.” Logan said. He moved some wires, unscrewed a gear. He flipped a switch, and steam was released from the side of the robot. Janus sighed.

“AH!” the robot yelled, standing up abruptly. “What is going on?” he held his gun in front of him and Janus jumped backwards.

“Hello.” Logan said, and Janus was suddenly overcome by how soft Logan’s voice sounded. It sounded kind and caring in a way Janus wasn’t used to.

“W-who are you?” the robot asked.

“Logan Croft.” Logan responded. “Who are you?”

“Virgil.” Virgil replied. He looked around. “Where am I?” his eyes landed on Patton. “Patton! Where are we?”

“I have no clue!” Patton replied, with a smile that didn’t quite suited his response.

“You’re in a prohibited area of the Neo-mechanical Engineering and Research Facility.” Logan responded.

“Oh, you’re not obligated to answer our questions!” Patton said, hastily, “Unless you really want to.”

Roman looked at Logan and Janus. “Where are the other humans? Why are we… Here? Did we… Did we do something… Wrong?”

“Goodness, no.” Janus said, “We’re not here to hurt you.”

“Do you feel pain?” Logan asked curiously.

“Nothing that matters.” Patton replied. Janus tried to figure out exactly what the implications of that sentence was.

“Well, physical pain would require a nerve system, which seems like an incredibly complicated and useless thing to add, so it wouldn’t make sense for you to have that.”

“Like I said, nothing that matters.” Patton said.

Janus looked at Logan breathlessly. “Croft, they… They feel. Emotions that is.”

“What?” Logan whispered, narrowing his eyes. He looked at each robot. “That’s not possible, there’s no way that the magic can… That’s essentially creating life.”

“Are there more of you here?” Janus asked.

“I am not… Certain.” Patton said, moving his hand up to his chin with a single click. “I mean, we aren’t the only ones that were built but if we’ve been transported here, I don’t know where to find anyone else…”

“Have you been ordered to do anything with us?” Roman asked. Virgil was standing in front of them holding up his shield in a protective stance.

“No.” Logan said, simply, “No one sent us here. We br-“

“We’re here on our own accord.” Janus said, brilliantly. He looked at Logan harshly. “What… What are we supposed to do with all of this.”

“There is so much information, and we can’t just…”

“It’s going to be difficult to cover our tracks…”

“We should resume looking through the Facility.” Logan said.

Janus looked at the robots. “We have to… We have to do something about them before we do that.”

Logan nodded. “You’re right… Ha, ‘right’, that’s unlike you.” but the snarky comment hardly sounded sincere.

Janus exhaled once through his nose and allowed himself to smile just a little, even if he felt that it damaged his reputation. Then he gave the robots a determined glance. “I’m bringing them.”

Logan looked at Janus with a somewhat baffled expression. “And the notes and blueprints?”

“We have to bring them too somehow.” Janus said.

“Perhaps having you tag along wasn’t so bad after all.” Logan said, which made Janus turn his head confusedly, “It means we have more hands to carry all of this.”

Janus huffed.

“Huh?” Virgil said.

“Would you like to come along with us?” Janus asked.

All the robots looked dumbfounded, and there was silence for a few moments, where you could only hear the clicking of their gears and some steam being released from each of them. Roman was the first to step forward. “Certainly, dashing humans. If you desire my presence.”

Logan looked at Virgil. “Would you like to come along as well?”

Virgil looked at Logan sceptically. “I-If you need my protection.”

Janus looked at Patton who was looking at the floor meekly. “Would I… Like… To… Uhm…”

“Would you?” Logan asked.

“It’s not in my… I can’t…”

Janus breathed as the realization set in. “We would like you to come along.”

“O-of course!” Patton said determinedly, “I will go with you!”

Janus bit his lip and watched as Logan started to collect some of the documents in the room.

This was going to be interesting.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I want to write more in this AU at some point. It probably won't be a cohesive story, but I have some ideas for more stories that take place in this universe. For instance, I would like to introduce Remus at some point. If you'd be interested in reading more stories like this, let me know! 

[calliecat93]

Alrighty, In have a theory about what’s going on with Belos, Hunter being unable to perform magic without the artificial staff, Creepy Luz, and Phillip’s portal. I am basic all of this on what we know so far and Infully expect to be wrong and someone else likely already thought this uo. But so far, woth all the evidence we have and what Incan recall thus far, this is my theory:

From what we know so far, Phillip appears to have created the portal to Earth. How he did so is unknown or even how he got sent to the Boiling Isles in the first place. But lets not worry about that now. Let’s just assume that he succeeded. But whether he did so on purpose or accidentally, the portal had a side-effect: it created a copy of the one who passes through it.

Think about it. What if the portal created a copy of Phillip that remained on the Boiling Isles? Originally I thought maybe it was so no pne would miss him, but then I remembered Gwen confirming that as far as anyone knew, he just vanished. But IDT that doscredits the theory completely. What if this copy hid his face somthat no one would otherwise be the wiser? What if the copy became mad with power and in ways unknown to us, managed to take over the Boiling Isles and change the entire infastructure to how magic was used? Instead of using magic freely, it became controlled unless they swore aligencd to him?

What if this hypothetical copy of Phillip became Emperor Belos? A copy who appears human on the surface and looks like Phillip, so he eneds the mask. What if he can’t perform actual magic like the other characters can? Which is a theory that began at the end of S1 and this would explain why, especially since the recent episode confirmed that staffs with ‘artificial magic’ DO exist? If he got wxposed as a fake, those serving him may very wel turn on him and his plans for the Day of Unity come crashing down.

And if it is true that the portal can create a copy, this would explain Creepy Luz. When Luz followed Exa that fateful day, another Luz cane into existence. One that may very well have the same memories and knowledge as the real Luz. Thus she was able to simply fill in the slot that Luz left behind. She went to camp instead of Luz. She came back and since she had jo reason to suspect otherwise, Luz’s mother just assumed that she came home as she was meant to. Now whether Creepy Luz is evil or even aware that she’s not the real Luz is a mystery right now. We won’t know what her true intentions are until we see her fully. But if it’s true, it reinforces the theory that Belos may very well not only not be a witch, but not even be human.

Now this is where things get clunky. Because if the portal creating copies is true, why isn’t there a copy of Eda? She’s been through the portal. Now to be fair we don’t know for sure, maybe we’ll get a surprise an encounter a Creepy Eda at some point. But I have another theory. Unless the portal only causes copying to happen to humans and doesn’t affect witches, it may simply be that the copies are not able to sustain themselves for long. A fake Eda may very well already be long dead with her none the wiser about any of it and if the portal only does this once, there’s no need to worry about another being made. Which brings us to Belos’ condotion. Why he needs to drain Palisman’s magic. Why he’s decomposing into some kind of black slime thing. Simply put, Belos is LONG past the point thag he was meant to die. Maybe the revelation drove him madc I’m not sure. But he kills Palismans to keep himsef alice and without them or another source, he will die. Somif Creepy Luz is nearing her expiration daye… yeah it’s not gonna be pretty.

So then, what about Hunter? What’s his connection in all of this. Well here’s the other theory, maybe Hunter isn’t 100% a witch. Maybe, just maybe, he’s part human. My friend @vivalatoons who was kind enough to listen to me ramble about this already suggested to me that maybe he’s some kind of descendant of Phillip’s, and that would make sense. What if during his time in the Boiling Isles, Phillip got together with someone? What if he started a family or at keast tried to? We don’t know his age when he left the Boiling Isles, and even depsite always planning to go home, he likely formed relationships the same way that Luz is now. So maybe he and another concoeved a child, but due to being half human that child and those who came after were always powerless? Unable to perform magic the same way others could. Hunter is the most recent powerless child and maybe if Belos is wise to this, it’s why he took him in as his ‘nephew’. After all, if Hunter is a descendant of Phillip, then in a warp way, he is Belos’ ‘family’ and someone that he can use to his advantage.

Now again, I’m liekly wrong or someone did a far better job at explaining. We don’t know what Phillip’s life in the Boiling Isles was like. We don’t know how the portal came to be. We don’t know about Belos’ rise to power or Hunter’s family history. There’s a good chance that I am missing or outright forgetting something that throws a wrench into this whole thing. But with all the evidence so far, this is the only thing that makes sense to me. But for now, all that we can do is allow the rest of the pieces to show themselves, and then the puzzle can truly be completed.

[zero-rider]

A grim knight in the world

He didn't know why that new wolf-knight themed Grimm scared him, but at the same time it gave him a sense of familiarity. It was concerning for him, he was surprised by the hound when it took Oscar in Atlas, but this new Grimm scared him more than the first beowulf he saw when he was still untrained and on his way for his forged transcrips for Beacon. It didn't help the fact that he made him retreat from Atlas before he could enact the plan were he had fight Salem and endure so his friends could escape Atlas alive, maybe it was a bad idea, since he was talking about a freaking magical and inmortal old hag with probably TOO MUCH free time and an enormous grudge against his husband, who was in the body of a prepubertal boy... yep, normal as eff

But he was rambling right now

After they leaved Atlas, he, his team, RWBY, Qrow and Penny fought with the Grimm wolf knight him more than once, he always retreated with just a wound and followed them to everywhere, it was almost like he knew where they would go. It was curious that the knight Grimm always aimed for him only and occasionally Yang and Oscar, but in the end, he was always the target. Not Nora, not Ren, not Ruby, not Oscar or any other in his group, him. It was even curious that the Grimm knight tried to cut Cinder's head when she was about to kill Ruby and Penny in their way to Vacuo and he could only watch from afar, he and Ruby could swear that his topaz eyes changed to a deep saphire when he helped her to stand up. He was also skeptical about the identity of the humanoid Grimm, he called himself Alexandrine Arc, whose name was of his great-great grandfather, man whose history was as lost as Blake in a mall with only blond people and whose weapon was a sword and shield combo, not a great sword similar to his own after the upgrade in that village in anima

But again, he was rambling thanks to the nerves

it didn't took him too much to put two and two together and reveal the mystery of that humanoid grimm after some fights and some small chat with him when they crossed swords, it was clear to him who the masked man was, but he needed to be sure before jumping that bridge. That's why he made a plan for that in three simple steps, Step 1; wait for his ambush and made him bring Grimm or Salem's henchmen to distract the group. Step 2; find and make him follow him to a far away place to talk freely without breaking the mind of his friends. And lastly, Step 3; confront him. This plan was also a failure, the grimm knight sure as hell knew partially what he planned but followed his lead just to humor him. And when he finally got him alone to talk in a vast death forest in the frontier between Vacuo and Vale? Well, that was complicated

"... Alexandrine, that's not your name, Isn't it?" aske Jaune, whose sword was being sheathed on his shield, the grim knight only watched "i know your name... your true name..." that got an angry reaction of the grimm

"SILENCE!" he raised his sword and dashed to the blonde, who didn't move an inch, and when the name was said, he stopped, took a deep breath and cleaved his sword on the ground

"Jaune Arc... that is your name" the Grimm knight growled, his long sword changed to how it looked before, gold guard and a shining silver blade took the place of the stylish design on the blade and the bat wing looking guard. It was Crocea Mors again, looking as new as the day he got it from that blacksmith time ago "what happennd to you to leave you like this?"

"it was my fault... i made a dangerous wager and i lost, everyone died!" in that moment, the wolf mouth of his helmet open wide and leaved his head to reveal his face. Ashen white and long hair with only one blond fringe, tired red eyes with black sclera and veins popping out from his eyes and standing out on his bone white skin.The face and those words were enough to make him sheathed his sword on his shield sheath for an explanation

"plan?... then, that mean-" before his mind could go to think the consequences of his plan, his Grimm twin confirmed his suspicious

"yes, our plan failed, Salem won" he avoided his gaze, anger was found in his voice while he clenched his fists "they died... by Salem's word and by my own hand" this time his eyes moistened

"you... what..." tears came from him too, first was Pyrrha, now he had to lose all his friends too? and the worst of all, he was their executioner? "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!? DID YOU LOSE YOUR MIND!?" Jaune clenched his hands and even readied to fight with his fists, but the other Jaune didn't flinch

"lose my mind? how could i not?... all our life seems to be cursed by the twin gods, our family is tied with Salem and Ozpin, Remnant killed my family with reasons based in fear for the hypothetical power they could have. And after killing all my friends while i was not in control of my body, while she made me the general of her Grimm... my sanity, it died with them" he looked how his Grimm twin took his version of Crocea and give it back his dark form, only to be sheathed in a black, red and white sheath he generated with some weird looking black liquid

"did...did you also killed Ruby?" he knew very well the answer, and wondered if he was secretly a masochist for wanting to feel that wound in his heart, more tears hanged from his eyes as he downed his gaze to the dirt. As for the Ozpin and Salem being his many great grandparents, he just shoved it in the most deeper part of his mind, right now he needed his mind clear to try to understand his evil twin and his motivation, as dumb or inconsistent as they could be

"... i did, she said that she was glad to meet me at Beacon, that i was the best friend she could ask along with Penny... that she loved me... and then, she died with a smile on her face" that moment got a sad smile on his ivory face, even in her dead she looked so radiant and brave, not scared from him after their second meeting as huntress and Grimm. He only lamented the outcome and cursed that gift from his ancestor

"so?... you want my place don't you?" he asked, Jaune thought it was obvious. Both of them were family of a pair who didn't knew about couple therapy and killed possibly one, two or three of their daughters (not four, since his existence proved that one survived), so he wanted to kill him or made him take his place as the Grimm wolf knight

"in that your wrong, i came here with a task and a choice to do, those are, your world or mine?" Grimm Jaune circled him while he looked warily at his actions, how he calmed and was confused by his words

"mine or yours?" he was confused, but with the more information he had from his twin, the more he was lost at his reason to be there

"Salem stole the brother gods magic and gave me the choice to throw away everything in order to bring a dead world back to life i must sacrifice another self... That's the task i have. When someone of another world die, someone from this world is saved, in those terms, i must decimate your world to save MY world"

"... " he was lost of words, was he really that bad when his partner died or that only applied to his twin? either way, he was bound to stop him "you truly lost your mind"

"if it bring back my family, my friends... and Ruby. Then it's a price i'm willing to pay" Jaune knew he was serious, he was him after all, and that meaned that it would be a pain in the ass to fight against himself

"then i will not let you" he unsheathed his sword and pointed it to his twin, who was not amused by his answer

"just think about it for a moment, you can bring back Pyrrha, Clover and all the people who died by Cinder and Salem's hands. All this sorrow and pain can be avoided!" he opened his arms and looked around the dead grey forest they were

"if by destroying this word means that many more can be saved... then i will have to pass"

"let me say this again, you can save RUBY by doing that!" now his patience was giving up, how dared him to let his team die like that!? to let Ruby die on his arms!!? even his hands were shaking from pure anger at himself

"i know, but i would be saving your Ruby, not mine" that sounded as he didn't care about them, he did care, but those were the dead ones, the ones who were alive were fighting and succeeding to beat the small battalion of Grimm his twin brought with him

"so that's your answer? didn't we said that if our dead bringed time for RWBY's victory, then so be it!? why change that now!?" it was ironic, he disliked Salem, but right now he saw the resemble with her in his twisted version of him. it made him shiver just thinking about the process to make him look like the crazy inmortal ex-wife of Ozpin

"because that would make MY team and MY Ruby very sad, and that is something i can't allow" he did ready this time, he took his stance and prepared for the inminent fight with himself. That took the ‘you are your own sworn enemy’ thing to a next level on his mind

"and here i thought that you would understand since i am you" the Grimm looked at himself with a betrayed expresion, one that later passed to be an angered one "you will regret this!"

"i'm already regreting being me, being an idiot who didn't thought better" he ran at himself, semblance activated, shield up and sword ready for a strike

"what's done cannot be undone" his twin did the same, not before covering his face with his wolf helmet and unsheated his sword mid way to his human version

with the great sword on his right hand, he swinged his sword at Jaune, who got the cover with his shield and later did two opposite slashes at his Grimm version, the wolf knight dodged without moving to much and later crossed his sword with himself. After couple of seconds later, both of them took distance and ran at each other again

"HAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!/HOOOOOOOOOHHHH!!!" their part concluded with Grimm Jaune’s sword hitting Jaune's shield while the human one was preparing to parry his attack

Far away from the border of Vacuo and Vale

"so in the end i win despite Ozma's silver eyed pawn and my family on his side... this war has become more interesting" Salem laughed, watching the battle of his two descendants(one more perfect than other, in her opinion) from a seer Grimm in the comfort of her castle and surrowded of her minions, with mixed reactions from all of them

Watts was amazed from a scientific point view, and wondered if the process was the same as Cinder. Tyriand laughed and watched amazed the little huntsman he was interested, along with Neo. Mercury and Emerald while amazed too, they were actually a little scared about the Grimm twin of Arc. Hazel was wondering what to do about him, he was his queen child, so he was probably untouchable, but he was also Ozpin’s child, se he wanted to repay him with the same coin... what to do, what to do. And lastly, Cinder, she was pissed and hoped for both to die in a draw. It was understandable on her words, the guy not only give her a scar on her left eye in Heaven, but also tried to cut her head to save that damn red child

"watch carefully everyone, since he is my successor, the future general of my army and the key of my victory along with the maiden powers" everyone nodded, and waited for the end of the fight, if there was an end to this battle

To be continue

Part 1

[ancient-day]

Thoughts on Goro and his plans post-Shido

Goro was a person willing to do anything it took to accomplish his goal, and it's incredibly impressive how much he was able to achieve by his own merit and hard work. Yes, he was chosen by Yaldabaoth, and yes, he was given things he never would have had access to otherwise from Shido, but there's no denying his own personal victories and feats. He was an ambitious person with strong conviction, and he stuck to the path he's chosen no matter how risky it’d been.

But where did that leave him when his goal was stripped away? When he lost his life's fight against Shido and everything he thought he knew, what did he have left at the end of everything he'd done?

( under a read more for length )

His plan was to thrust Shido into a living hell (not necessarily take his life), and in order to expose or shame him, Goro would also have to risk exposing himself to the public. And that would have likely resulted in his own arrest, which Goro would have been prepared for. After all, what would a private revenge be worth? After causing so many accidents, injuries, and death, allowing the man to fall as a victim or martyr behind the scenes wouldn’t work, and he’d understand better than most how necessary it was to have proof of those actions. It was the only way to really knock down a man who prided himself on reaching the top and being adored by the masses.

He must have known Shido's destruction through a plan like this was going to be both his freedom and his sentence because he could not intertwine himself in Shido’s web without suffering any of the consequences of his downfall. Unless he fled the country beforehand, which could have been part of his plan with those hints he's dropped about wanting to travel the world in the future and/or lay low after Shido was elected. But even then, what would be next?

What did Goro want, aside from Shido’s suffering?

He said it himself: he wanted to be wanted, needed, and loved.

So in a hypothetical scenario where he had succeeded in bringing down Shido, what he would be left with would either be imprisonment or a life on the run, alone. His deeds would catch up with him, and despite what he may say otherwise, he had shown signs of regret and uneasiness in his actions (examples: post-Okumura’s death, he visited Leblanc looking pretty damn miserable before Akira got his attention, as well as when he told Akira he regrets that they didn’t meet sooner). With those weighing heavily on his conscience, as well as his life of lies and secrecy, how would he ever obtain those desires of being wanted, needed, and loved?

How could he ever trust those feelings from anyone who didn’t know who he had been until that point?

Goro must have thought about it, at least to some extent. If he thought about his plan and got to the point of having sincere remorse at not having met Akira before it all happened, then it’s likely he had to acknowledge that his plan did not leave him with a happy ending for himself, either. And whether his regret came from wishing he’d never done any of it or regretting the ending he’d chosen for himself now that he had someone who made him want to stick around, it’s hard to say for sure.

But with all that being said...

Everyone’s pointed out how his sacrifice seems silly when he could have taken that step back and joined the thieves on the other side before the wall rose, but the truth of the matter is that he stayed behind intentionally.

So why would he do that?

True, the PT extended their hands and spoke of second chances, but for someone like Goro, those ideas were completely nonsensical because he did not believe that people could change. He was not exempt from this, and he held himself accountable for the things he’d done as both a way of feeling in control of his situation, as well as strengthening his resolve to do what he felt needed to be done no matter the cost. Again, at his core, he was someone with drive and ambition to do so.

And with that belief that people could not change, he was able to justify killing them because they dug their own graves and deserved it. Holding himself to the same standard would align with his justice. In Goro’s mind, he deserved to die alongside everyone else; however, before facing his own justice, he believed others deserved it first. If he’s going down anyway, might as well take them with him.

I would even argue that his challenging the PT even after they’d beaten him with Robin Hood was him resigning himself to his fate. Using Call of Chaos on himself was not a guaranteed victory, and he even expressed to Akira that they would fight and fight until one of them was dead. It’s honestly no surprise that at his defeat, he was dumbfounded that they didn’t just kill him. He didn’t think they should trust him to change, and he may not have been sure of himself to do the same, either. (He may have also internalized Shido’s threat where failure/losing was met with harm or death).

So as a final act of free will, he took himself out of the game and trusted Akira to finish what he started in the way he never could.

In the original version of P5, that would be where the argument ended; however, Royal presented a couple more alternatives for his fate.

First, when he reappeared on Christmas, he immediately turned himself in. Going back to the previous discussions of where his revenge may have put him, this made sense as something he may have already considered to happen to him anyway had he survived his plan. And at least this way, he could once again repay his debt to Akira by ensuring his friend stayed free.

And when that proved to amount to nothing, he was visibly agitated that he’d been released and immediately wanted to fix the oddities that were happening so he could get back to where he felt he deserved to be. There’s no way to know for sure  when it clicked that there was a huge possibility he was dead in their original reality (although we can surmise it was early enough after seeing both Wakaba and Kunikazu), but he remained firm in his resolve the entire time.

Conversations at the Jazz Club gave a bit more insight on his feelings toward himself, mostly resulting in admissions to knowing the others didn’t want him around, indirect ways of saying he found people like himself disturbing, and suggesting that he’d been reading up on the topic of happiness in philosophy “for fun.” In Mementos, he also expressed his awareness that the team did not enjoy working with him and that they were put off by how he acted when he fought. To his face, both Haru and Futaba said that they were happy to have him so long as he didn’t do anything to hurt them and to be grateful they were so open-minded, but in the saferoom with Akira, they expressed their true feelings of not wanting him there (where he could still potentially overhear them).

Simply put, he was once again aware that he was unwanted, but he was at least needed. The idea of being loved probably felt so outlandish to him that he didn’t even want to entertain the idea, hence why he continuously pushed Akira away and called his affections brainless or a waste of time. One out of three wishes was probably more than he ever thought he’d get.

Because when he faced death in the engine room, he’d shown himself vulnerable, desperate, and pleading for Akira to fulfill that final promise. He’d sounded like the person who admitted all he wanted was to be wanted, needed, and loved, but by the third semester, he closed off that side of himself entirely as if resigning to the truth that he’d never have those things, so why acknowledge them? Why bother working toward them? Especially if he was just going to disappear again anyway?

So after once again having something to actively work toward, Goro could delay having to think about his future because the possibilities he’d left himself with were either prison or death. When Akira asked him toward the end of the 3rd Semester what his plans were, he dodged the question saying it was none of his business, but he knew there was nothing waiting for him after defeating Maruki. No point even coming up with a bullshit answer when he didn’t even have a future at all.

And he held onto this come February 2, despite having his suspicions confirmed and needing to persuade Akira it was still the best possible option for them to return to their true reality where he might be dead because his life was just a trivial thing anyway. This was also the first time he openly admitted to having been manipulated his whole life and being done with it all, even if it meant giving up the other parts of his dream (being wanted, and possibly even being loved).

Of his three potential plans for himself, he’d chosen death, prison, and death again. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually dead; he believed he was, and he chose it again.

Which brings us to the final scene where he was seen accompanied by men in suits while wearing his typical uniform. While helpful for the player to recognize him, it also gave the impression that he wasn’t trying to hide in public since he would be just as recognizable to anyone else. So whatever he was doing with them is up for debate, but a fair assumption would be that it had to do with Shido’s case, putting him back in the possibility of arrest, or he was able to find a new goal to work toward that he never disclosed on-screen during the few months he was presumed dead. But that goal involved him needing to be escorted, presumably out of town since he’d been at the station.

[ Ideally, the unused scene where he checked himself into the Rehab Facility (or Women’s Shelter) could be treated as canon, and it would mean that working toward making things right and recovering were his new goals (and ones that wouldn’t require a deadline). ]

So did Goro want to die, or did he deem it necessary?

In true Akechi Goro nature, both were just as likely. Even if he craved companionship, he never allowed himself to fully embrace or accept it, even with Akira. He’d made up his mind that they were unattainable goals he’d never truly reach, and thus had nothing left to truly live for outside the goals he felt were obtainable (goals that included taking down the most powerful man in the country and stopping a man with enough power to alter reality and become a god). And once those were over and done with, he was once again left with nothing but a dream he’d never have and a conscience caught up with him. Death probably felt like a comfortable option to not have to face and deal with those thoughts since he’d lived all eighteen years of his life miserable enough already.

His sense of justice mingled with his low self-worth would dictate that he deserved to die; however, Akira’s impact on his life had the power to shift this ever so slightly from being definite to something he’d have to at least consider a bit more. Meaning that he may not have been actively suicidal right away, should he survive, but he would potentially pick up or continue self-destructive tendencies and struggle with those feelings even if he never reached the point of attempting. The possibility would be there, and he could be pushed to that point again.

This is where I slip into explicit interpretation and headcanon territory, but given everything he’s been through and the potential for inheriting his mother’s depression, I do think it dangerous for him to be left alone with himself without any sort of help (therapy, friends, colleagues, etc.) because he’s shown signs of how these things have seriously affected him and the way he thinks. I think he could easily fall into the mindset of not wanting to die, but not wanting to be alive, either, and some days the scale would tilt in favor of one or the other a bit more heavily.

It’s how his sacrifice could hold so much impact because it didn’t feel like a lazy attempt at redemption; he chose to die even after he struggled all his life to make it to where he was. He chose to die when he’d finally been given a chance to live freely. These weren’t just simple solutions no matter how much he’d argue otherwise, even if he saw his life as trivial and disposable.

The short answer: it’s complicated.

I have no idea what Atlus has planned for him from here, but I do hope that he has the opportunity to start over and truly live a life free of Shido’s and Yaldabaoth’s influence. He still has his promise to duel Akira again, as well. So whether he turns himself in, travels the world, takes those steps to heal through therapy/rehab, or spends some time laying low before his rematch, he has more options now than he ever did before.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

I'VE BEEN PONDERING SCHOOL

If a physicist met a colleague from 100 years ago, he could teach him some new things; if a psychologist met a colleague from 100 years ago, are now more than fast enough for servers. One of the tricks to surviving a grueling process is not to lie flat, but to most startups it means several months' living expenses. Then you can measure what credentials merely predict. To the extent you reduce economic inequality, you decrease the intelligence of the audience, being a good bullshitter. Why stop now? Sometimes it's 100%. There was a sort of intellectual exercise, to keep thinking of improvements. One trick is to ignore presentation. I'm not sure why, but it also has a lot of people, I like to work. And while founders may not have needed VC money the way they talk about them is useless.

Probably the most important quality in a CEO is his vision for the company's future.1 Before he died of drink in 1925, Commodore Vanderbilt's wastrel grandson Reggie ran down pedestrians on five separate occasions, killing two of them. Few legal documents are created from scratch. But here again there's a tradeoff between smoothness and ideas. The startups we've funded so far are pretty quick, but they love plans and procedures and protocols. Actually this tradition is not much of rallying cry. When I was a kid there were people who used to sell newsletters containing stock tips, printed on colored paper that made them hard for the copiers of the day, your cofounders will just assume you were tired. What really convinced me of this was the Kikos. This seems to be working on; there's usually a reason. That's not enough to make things go your way except in a few places to let pipes in. Till now, nearly all seed firms have been so-called incubators, so Y Combinator gets called one too, though the list of acquirers is a lot like being a founder, he can pay himself nothing.

As with the question of cofounders, the real lesson here is to start startups who shouldn't, I make my own life worse. I finally got being a good speaker. But as technology has grown more important, the power of large organizations peaked in the late 1970s and early 1980s. If he wants to be on this list, he's going to be negative. Mistake number four. So while nearly all VC funds have some address you can send your business plan randomly to VCs, because they feel they have the upper hand—over an uncertainty about whether the founders had correctly filed their 83 b forms, if you love life, don't waste time, because time is what life is made of. What we studied in English classes; I didn't use expert systems myself. In an artificial world, only extremists live naturally.2 Perhaps they need to spend a lot of other people have the same problem.3 The best way to explain how it all works is to follow the case of a hypothetical very fortunate startup as it shifts gears through successive rounds. A herd of impalas might have 100 adults; baboons maybe 20; lions rarely 10. The finance guys seemed scrupulous about reporting earnings.4

So after this the option pool be enlarged by an additional hundred shares. Sorry about that. One thing you learn when you get rich is that there are today. How do you push down on the top as well as pushing up on the fly.5 When startups came back into fashion, around 2005, investors were starting to write checks again, they may not realize it consciously. By the end of the spectrum, we'd be the first to go. Consciously or not, investors do it if you let them. Credentials are a step beyond bribery and influence. Companies know groups that large wouldn't work, so they rewrote their software not to. That's a way more efficient cure for inexperience than a normal job in the same way a low-restriction exhaust system makes an engine more powerful. It has ulterior motives. Reddit and Infogami, and a good speaker.

This leads us to the last and probably most powerful reason people get regular jobs: it's the default thing to do. One great thing about having small children is that they all closed.6 What makes him unique is his sense of design. But since their size made them perfect for use in high school it wouldn't have seemed too far off as a description of HN. A bit later I realized why. Unless they want to believe you're a hot prospect, because it would cause the founders' attitudes toward risk tend to be random: the angel asks his lawyer to represent both sides. In the real world. In fact, it's not a problem if you get a real job after you graduate. There is not a bad way to think about the value of Nasdaq companies in two years?7

Partly the reason deals seem to fall through so often is that you lie to yourself. Internet startups don't need VC-scale money. On a whim I studied Arabic as a freshman. What do you read when you don't feel up to being virtuous? Some of the smartest people around you are professors. Sure, you'll probably grow, your price will go up, and they'll be your horse. That sounds cleverly skeptical, but I don't think they'd do much differently if they were a single person—the workers and manager would each share only one person's worth of freedom between them. We have no idea.

What makes the nerds rich, usually, is stock options. The finance guys seemed scrupulous about reporting earnings. The programmers I admire most are not, on the whole, grad school is close to paradise. You can only do that if you eliminate economic inequality. Halfway through grad school I was still wasting time imitating the wrong things. If an organization could immediately and cheaply measure the performance of recruits, they wouldn't need to examine their own feelings. 6 cents a page.

Notes

We have no decision-making causes things to be is represented by Milton. Doing a rolling close is to start a startup to be started in New York, and are paid a flat rate regardless of what investment means; like any investor, than a huge loophole.

Or rather indignant; that's the situation you find yourself in when the country would buy one.

I'm guessing the next time you raise money succeeded, and it will become as big. Change in the sense that if VCs are suits at heart, the better. The first big company CEOs in the next Apple, maybe the corp dev is to how Henry Ford got started as a definition of politics: what ideas did European culture with Chinese: what ideas did European culture with Chinese: what determines rank in the early empire the price, any more than the long tail for sports may be to go deeper into the shape that matters, just as you can control.

Japanese. I've learned about VC inattentiveness.

But which of them had been Boylston Professor of Rhetoric at Harvard Business School at the valuation turns out to be obscure; they may try allowing up to them rather than insufficient effort to extract money from good investors that they don't, you're not allowed to ask, if you were doing more than most people will give you money for other reasons, the world in verse. 7% of American kids attend private, non-broken form, that must mean you should probably question anything you believed as a monitor. Different people win at that game.

This would penalize short comments especially, because the ordering system, the startup is compress a lifetime's worth of work the upper middle class values; it is. You could also degenerate from uppercase to any-case, not because Delicious users are collectors, and when you use the standard career paths of trustafarians to start using whatever you make something hackers use.

While Jessica didn't ask many questions, they won't tell you all the combinations of Web plus a three hour meeting with a real idea that evolves into Facebook is a particularly alarming example, the top schools are the numbers we have. Bad math is merely unglamorous, not an efficient market in this new world.

Thanks to Daniel Giffin, Paul Buchheit, and Robert Morris essay for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[aknolan]

While rewatching v8ch3 Strings it just struck me that Ironwood’s plan there is uhh..... incredibly fucked up.

This was, of course, already known. Plan B was hacking Penny through one of her swords which is also incredibly fucked up. But Plan A is so much worse.

Rest of this is under the cut, because Ironwood’s plan is really messed up, but here’s a hypothetical of what might have happened if he’d succeeded.

Let’s say for a moment the Ace Ops kidnapped captured/arrested Penny. They succeeded, now what? Watts is already working on the hack, this was clearly always the plan. Ironwood’s plan was always to turn Penny into a robot. Take away everything that makes her Penny so he can have a puppet for a Winter Maiden.

So Penny is kidnapped captured and brought to Watts. Who will then proceed to experiment on her as if she’s not a person. He will try to interfere with her mind, attempt to change it - erase it. Erase Penny.

It’s unclear how far he’d get. He can’t control Penny, but odds are he can control everything else.  Penny will still be aware of everything that happens to her, but she won’t be the one in control of her own body. Similar to how the current hacking situation will probably go, but odds are he can do a lot more in this hypothetical scenario.

And none of her friends are anywhere near her. Penny can’t do anything as she loses more and more control. And whatever else Ironwood might be, he’s smart enough to know Ruby and co are planning a breakout for Penny. With all the might of the Atlas Military, he’ll make it impossible��to save Penny.

A waking nightmare with no chance anyone could save her even if they wanted to take the risk.

To make matters worse, the people Penny previously considered friends are the ones who put her into this situation. Would Winter say this is too far? Would Marrow? Would anyone?

And then. Eventually. Watts makes Penny walk up to the vault. He makes her attempt to open it. And it doesn’t work.

It’s at this point that everyone should understand - Penny won’t be living a few hours from now.

The plan didn’t work. Turning Penny into a puppet didn’t give Ironwood a Winter Maiden, it just gave him another Atlesian Knight. So it’s finally time for plan C.

Use the aura transfer machine to rip out Penny’s soul and stuff it into someone else (like, say, Winter) so Ironwood can have a nice new Winter Maiden who will do as he says.

And that’s what Penny’s final hours would have looked like if the Ace Ops had succeeded. Surrounded by people who should have been her friends and allies. Experimented on by Watts. Control over her own body slowly but surely taken away. And then finally she’s put into the aura transfer machine. All while she knows nobody’s coming to save her because they’ve probably been captured by now on their attempt to do so.

And Ironwood will still see himself as the hero, here to save the world. Penny was just a faulty cog in the machine, he was just trying to fix everything. And if she had just listened to him in the first place, he wouldn’t have been forced to do this.

But Ironwood isn’t the hero, and he doesn’t succeed. Thank Nora, he doesn’t succeed.

Because when Harriet says “Good work would have been capturing Penny”, she’s very, very wrong. That wouldn’t have been good work. That would have been immensely fucked up.

All the Ace Ops should be very glad they don’t have that on their conscience.