#and shame on me for not having posted it here already

[hyperions-light]

Someone was being a fucking hater on my explicitly positive DATV post AGAIN (u all know I can see your tags right. They get delivered to me express mail style) so here’s an essay about how I thought the Grey Warden plotline was great:

First, it was extremely lore-consistent. I don’t know how to tell people this, but the Grey Wardens simply are sort of shady— it’s part of their charm. In DAO alone we found out they:

- kill anyone who refuses the joining

- are definitely using a blood magic ritual to induct people

- tried to usurp the throne of Fereldan

In DA2 they:

-Forced Malcolm Hawke to perform a blood magic ritual against his will to contain Corypheus, by threatening to kill his family

- Built a giant prison in the mountains they didn’t tell anyone about and that someone could wander into and not be able to escape

- the entire Corypheus thing. They didn’t even tell the other Wardens like what he was or how dangerous he was.

DAI:

- the demon army thing was pretty bad

And that’s not even mentioning any stuff from the books or comics or shows! That’s just stuff in the games!

So they’re shady. It’s okay! They’re my little woobie guys, idc if they’re sort of shady!

But the plot in DATV is about all of those previously established issues coming back to bite them in the fucking ass, as they should! Knock knock, it’s the consequences of your actions, baby! The chickens are home to roost

(Which is just good storytelling. Like if you set up a bunch of issues and then never pay them off or anything that’s bad.)

Destroying Weisshaupt was inspired! Firstly bc Davrin is Weisshaupt, metaphorically (bulwark against the darkness, etc, I already made a post) so it serves his character arc. But also because it strips away the pageantry and the grandeur from them; no more castle for you! No more myth!

Davrin explicitly tells you that the First Warden is a traditionalist; he represents the historical attitudes of the Wardens. They do not accept help, they do not give up their secrets, they are standing alone against the dark. And it doesn’t work! He’s fucking wrong (and very punch-able). Being secretive and isolationist is a mistake that costs them nearly everything.

But also, and I’m not sure how many people experienced this on the first go-around, the game does ultimately come down on the side of the Wardens always trying to do the right thing. You CAN talk the First Warden down, because in the end he’s a Warden, and he might be stubborn and curmudgeonly and miserable but he CARES about the world. He came to do good. He admits he was wrong and he helps you. Because the heart of the Wardens is about selfless service to other people. In Death, Sacrifice.

Stripping away Weisshaupt and the glory and pageantry leaves the Wardens at their most vulnerable and forces them to return to their fundamental principles: helping people. That’s what Lavendel is about. Helping individual people and preserving every life possible even if it doesn’t feel that glamorous or heroic. Lavendel isn’t a significant place; it doesn’t matter, but it matters so much.

And then, the Cauldron.

First off, do not at me about Last Flight. I don’t think people should have to read external materials to play this game and understand it. If the information is vital it should be presented to the player in the text.

The Cauldron is the repository of the Wardens’ secrets; it’s where the keep the bones of the Archdemons, the secret to the Joining, ancient and dangerous weapons, as well as the bodies of the griffons, which represents their most shameful errors. Isseya is the avatar of the Wardens’ mistakes; she’s been hurt by what they made her do, and her pain was never acknowledged by them. They buried her story and her suffering like they bury everything they don’t want to deal with and are ashamed of. They left the bones of the griffons, whose deaths they directly caused, to rot because they were too sad to acknowledge them.

But it was wrong to walk away, it was wrong to bury it. Isseya makes sure that they can never do that again, that they have to own what they did and take responsibility. By discovering who she is and by restoring her personhood to her, by reminding her of her love which drove her to her anguish in the first place, Davrin saves her and he saves the griffons. He doesn’t do it using violence, because another sin of the Wardens is just assuming that they can kill their way out of their problems, which the game disproves by revealing the origin of the Blight. You can kill as many darkspawn as you want, you will never fix it! The Titans’ dreams do not need to be slain, they need to be healed.

Isseya is in so much pain because of her incredible love for both the griffons and the Wardens, and because of her guilt. Look what she builds! An alternate Weisshaupt, a distorted reflection of her home. She entreats both Davrin and Assan to join her, because she doesn’t think she’s trying to destroy anything. She’s trying to save them! She wants them to come home. “I am their mother,” she says, and she’s right. She saved them, then, and she ends up saving them now! Because she made Davrin and the other Wardens look, unflinchingly, at what they had done, it will never happen again. She was going about it wrong during the game, but she was ALWAYS trying to save them.

Davrin, Antoine and Evka represent the Wardens’ commitment to being different. They let Flynn undergo the Joining without becoming a Warden, they reveal secrets to non-Warden Rook, they offer to help the Viper without asking for anything in return. They ask for help and offer it freely. If the Wardens are going to persist into a world without Archdemons, they HAVE to change. They can’t be what they were anymore. The game is asking what a Warden is when they have to be more than their oath, when they have to live. It’s a great exploration of and expansion on previously established lore.

Anyway, my advice if you hated the plot and the game and the characters is to a) make your own post b) don’t bother me about it, because I have the time and I will be loudly positive in response!

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 14

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

WARNING: TW/Mentions of past Suicidal ideations

First - Prev - Next

CH.14

“You’re just going to give him free reign of the house?”

“I did not think you of all people would have a problem with this, you were the one who expressed the most disapproval with keeping him in the containment unit.”

“Yes, but wasn’t your main concern that he would leave?”

“Fiddleford, he was homeless. Where else is he going to go?”

“Well there is that Rick character he keeps mentioning…”

“You sound a bit on edge, do you remember him from Backupsmore?”

“Remember him?”

“Do you remember Diane Sanchez? He’s her husband- well, he was her husband.”

“I’m afraid the name doesn’t ring a bell…”

“Hmm, I’m not surprised, engineering wasn’t her major. Regardless, you’re better off having not met him. I don’t believe we have to worry about him. He is… very far away.”

“And Stan has no hard feelings towards you?”

“On one hand, he tells me he believes I’m only keeping here as part of an elaborate, delusional grieving process, and he will ‘play along’ however long that process takes. On the other hand, he wrote ‘Look what I did to your other hand’ on my hand in marker while I was asleep, and on quite literally the other hand he drew a turkey. Fiddleford, stop laughing.”

“I wouldn’t call that malicious, but it certainly explains why you decided to keep your gloves on outside of the lab. And he agreed we could continue to study his memory loss?”

“Yes, he did - I assume that’s what you two were discussing earlier?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You were up in the attic with him for at least an hour this morning, I assume you were conducting another interview? Locking the door was a bit excessive but without a neurology or psychology degree myself I am in no place to question your methods.”

“Interview-? Oh, um, yes. Interviewing. That’s exactly what we were doing. And nothing else.”

“Of course. Now- do you know where he is? I need to talk to him about an upcoming Cryptid Hunt.”

“You’re going to take him with you?”

“I was hoping both of you would accompany me actually. But if he will not, I’d need you to stay back here with him if you wouldn’t-”

“I wouldn’t mind none.”

“Thank you for your patience and understanding Fiddleford, I’m glad I was correct in my assumption that you’d be the best suited to assist me.”

“Any of our other colleagues woulda called the cops on your presumptuous behind.”

“...I know, and I am grateful you didn’t. Now, where is he?”

“Last I saw him was in the attic trying to cover up the window with a sheet - some type of paranoia? And I heard him come downstairs a few minutes ago but I haven’t seen him. If I were to take a guess though, he most likely went through that hatch leading to the platform on your roof - it’s still open.”

“What? Stanley can’t be on the roof, he’s afraid of heights.”

*Stan abruptly drops from the hatch, landing on his feet*

“Guys you won’t believe this but some dude in a giant moth costume just flew by- woah, you alright there PhD? You look like you already saw a ghost.”

(...)

*a series of clicking noises and hoots*

“Antenna curling! That's his tell! I fold.”

“Sorry, Stanley, but it appears Mothman was bluffing.”

“What? I had 4 aces! That moth is a wizard! Guess it’s up to you to win this for us, Doc.”

*Mothman takes a bite out of a wool cardigan, Fiddleford nearby with no chips angrily crosses his arms*

“...He's mocking me.”

“I was cheating the last 8 turns, too.”

“Stanley, for shame.”

“What? I already folded. This cheater didn’t prosper.”

(...)

“Good on you for winning, Stanford.”

“Of course, I’m just sorry that I couldn’t win before he took more bites out of your cardigan.”

“Good thing I had this flashlight to distract him, he really is a moth.”

“...Did you steal that from my coat closet?”

“Yes.”

“What else did you steal?”

“Well it’s a good thing Mothman didn’t have any money on him ‘cause you wouldn’t have anywhere to put it.”

“Give me back my wallet, Stanley.”

“Poor sport.”

(...)

“D-E-F-P-O-T-E-C”

“Now use both eyes, what’s the smallest line you can read?”

“Line ten. L-E-F-O-D-P-C-T.”

“Oculus dexter and oculus sinister are both 20/20, but your oculus uterque is 20/15.”

“Look we’ve been at this snail chart-”

“Snellen chart.”

“Whatever, we’ve done this like five times. What’s the point? I already told you I don’t need glasses.”

“It just doesn’t make sense… We’re identical, your visual acuity should be 20/40 or above because years of straining would make your vision even worse than mine.”

“I dunno what you want me to tell you PhD, my eyes are fine.”

“...Did Sanchez have something to do with this?”

“Sanc-.”

“Rick Sanchez. I know that’s the Rick you’ve off-handedly mentioned several times.”

“How can you be so sure? It’s a pretty common name.”

“Because you would be familiar with that egotistical, destructive, jaded, cynical-”

“Okay so you do know Rick. And yeah, we ran in the same circle for a bit, what about it?”

“He was always doing morally questionable experiments-”

“That’s funny coming from you.”

“-but altering physiology was something he had a special interest in. Did he give you some form of eye surgery or technological implant?”

“You think I’d let that nihilistic asshole near my eyes while I was passed out… or awake? Hell no. I don’t remember ever having vision problems. The closest he ever came to ‘altering’ me or whatever the fuck you’re tweaking about was help me steal a bunch of pills from the Galac-the government.”

“You- Why did you steal pills?”

“I couldn’t get decent sleep, and after getting my stomach pumped it’s not like any doctor was ever going to give me ambien or anything stronger ever again. Also, to stick it to the man.”

“... Stanley, did you- did you overdose on ambien?”

“Twice.”

“... Was it on purpose?”

“... Once. Only once. Don’t-. Don’t look at me like I’m a kicked puppy. I know it’s messed up. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I did it to myself, it isn’t anyone else’s fault. And I dunno what the fallout of your separation ten years ago was like, but no matter what happened this definitely wasn't your fault.

Look, if it makes you feel better, whatever you and specs have been spiking into my food and water has been working pretty great. I’m getting way better sleep here than I have in years.”

“We have not been putting drugs into your food or water.”

“If you say so, Doc.”

To be continued…

[9mysterybook6]

Here is the order of events

I will ignore her now I will only mention her when she steals my posts and work.

It all starts here

And I was defending my friend

Because Rhylie is still spreading lies about them

And when I Expose about her

Rhylie started stealing my posts and saying hateful things about me

Here you will find a lot of evidence.

In order

(1)

(2)

(3)

(4)

(5)

(6)

I don't want drama but her actions are disgusting and she is a toxic person.

for crying out loud She is a 21 year old woman AND she does this kind of thing.

I don't even have to say anything

This is just enough evidence about her.

Because no one will deny her actions.

[mlqueen89]

Two | Ego

i took the miracle move on drug the effects were temporary (i love you) it's ruining my life  

Fortnight by Taylor Swift ft. Post Malone | TTPD |  

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick) 

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

warnings: smut, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of oral (f receiving).    

word count: 9,776 

summary: “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.” in which ellie has to deal with the consequences of having the best sex ever with an actual pilot who she actually has to work with. A familiar face makes an appearance to guide ellie through politics at miramar.  

A/N: guys guys guys, you are giving me liiiiife. the reception to the first chapter has been crazy. lots of jake head canon developing here. essentially, i've decided that watermelon sugar by harry styles is jake coded. for... reasons. my guy is all acts of service. 

this one was also beta read by my bestest friend, so this one goes out to jj. love you girl, thanks for reading the smuttiest part of my brain. i also apologize for the amount of taylor swift/pop culture references (srry, not srry). also, the number of videos i watched on F-14s (tomcats) and F-18s (super hornets) is cray.

working my way through the november prompts, slowly but surely! there are a few left, so if you want to request, head on over there.

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥  

Ellie groaned deeply, her face dropping to her hands as she slouched over the kitchen island from her perch on the stool.     

“I sat on his face, Yan,” Ellie mumbled through her fingers, her voice laced with the mortification of the memory from that afternoon. The way Lieutenant Seresin’s eyes passed over her, undressing her, seeing the mark he’d made on her neck and then coolly, calmly, pretending like he wasn’t put off by her presence. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck until it radiated from her cheeks. “Now I have to work with him.”  

Yan, unfazed, was busy bustling around the small kitchen, assembling her version of a “girl dinner,” which currently included an obscene number of jarred olives in a variety of colours, a smattering of mixed Harvest Snaps, Ritz crackers and a chunk of Swiss cheese she didn’t bother slicing. As she pushed herself up on her tip toes to peek into cupboards, her manicured nailed fingers reaching for a box she’d seen near the back of the space, Yan reminded Ellie of the squirrel family that lived under the deck at their old college house.  

“I dunno,” Yan replied with a shrug, nonchalant as ever, giving the box she’d retrieved from the back of the cabinet on top of the fridge a shake. “Maybe he’ll forget?”  

The remainder of her day at Miramar had been filled with facility tours, and security briefings, introductions to ground crew and the radar teams in the tower—the usual M.O. of any other airfield she’d worked on for the past six years. Routine, smooth, reflexive, comforting in its predictability after her unexpected morning.  

To her relief, she didn’t see Lieutenant Seresin again and in part, it was because she hadn’t necessarily been looking for him. Between seeing him again, being caught off-guard, her mind scrambling and having RADM Stark offer her concealer, she’d had her fill of shame and awkward interactions to last the entire week, possibly month.   

When, at the end of the day, Tony let her know that he’d be emailing her in the next hour or so about her office space, she was already thinking about how quickly she could scurry off to her car and peel out of the parking lot.  

Driving home from North Island was completed in a fugue state, doing everything she could to keep her mind off what would happen from now until whenever her contract was over in a few months and the possibility of her putting in for remote work. Canada, Mexico, Iceland… somewhere, anywhere far away from him.  

By the time she tripped through the front door, trudging up the stairs, shoulders sunk low, Ellie was glad Nic wasn’t home. She wasn’t sure she could handle the interrogation surrounding how her first day had gone (terribly) and why she had disappeared from the Halloween party so abruptly last night without saying goodbye. Both discussions would lead to the same, inevitable, infuriatingly handsome, source. Lt. Seresin. A pilot. A mistake. A five-time in one night mistake. 

When she’d instead found Yan in the kitchen, scrounging around in the cupboards, Ellie had offloaded her previous night and the resulting day in what felt like a single sigh, a mass exodus of mismatched thoughts and side drabbles. Disaster, social and career ruin the overarching themes. 

Ellie lifted her head just enough to scoff in her roommate’s general direction. “Forget? He’s a pilot, it’s highly unlikely. Have you ever met a pilot? Those guys have egos the size of the jets they fly. There’s no way he’s going to just forget without some kind of semi-serious head trauma. Unfortunately.”  

Before Yan could respond, mouth opened in what Ellie could only assume would come next, she held up a finger, a footnote to add, “Before you say it: Bradley doesn’t count. He’s a weird… mustachioed outlier.” 

Data couldn’t track the trajectory of Rooster. Ellie had tried and failed many a time—just when she thought she had pegged him, he escaped the pigeonhole with a dogfight level of evasive maneuvering. With a lack of data or evidence, she’d been forced to accept that Rooster was just untraceable. He didn’t fit the mold of the pilots she’d met.  

“Okay, but hear me out, maybe he will forget without a smack to the dome?” Yan tapped her chin as she glanced down at her plate of smorgasbord, as if considering what was missing. “For all we know, this is his usual modus operandi and you’re just another girl in the long line of hook ups?”  

Ellie felt her stomach drop. Long line of hook ups. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.”    

Yan popped a few pitted olives into her mouth and tipped her head, gathering herself for a moment before she spoke again. “Let’s have a choose your own adventure moment: do you want friend or therapist version of Yan Like, do you want advice advice or just to vent?”  

“Are you going to bill me if I say therapist, Yan’s version?”  

“How about we split the difference?” Yan held the absurdly sized chunk of Swiss cheese in a two—handed grip, nibbling at the corner as she leaned across the island. She was never going to get out from under the squirrel family allusion at this rate. “If I was your therapist, I’d say that maybe we should look at how this serves you? What does this embarrassment, feeling it, stewing in it, what does it do for you?”  

Ellie considered for a moment, her forehead slowly coming to rest on the cool quartz countertop as if the answers could be found there.  

How did the embarrassment of working with a man she’d slept with serve her?  

Maybe the root of the mortification was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. The intrusive thoughts, floating around her brain, still, of the man who had undone her so completely, mapped out her body with his mouth, re-wired her brain through life-altering, transcendent orgasm, one chasing another, each cascading into the next like a line of tumbling dominoes.  

Maybe her fluster was tucked behind the idea that he’d dragged sounds from her with his tongue, fingers, filled her in ways she hadn’t realized she’d been empty until he was inside of her, easing his way in as she gasped and moaned. She’d made sounds she could never have imagined making in the presence of another person, sounds she wasn’t even aware she was capable of making.  

The shame was most likely rooted in the fact that she had liked it, enjoyed every moment he’d been on her and inside of her. Touching her, playing her like an instrument, tugging at all the strings that moved her. She’d melted at the way he called her sweetheart and darlin’ in that voice of his, drawl rough and husky, while doing the things he did to her. How eager he’d sounded when he’d asked her what she wanted from him and how he’d nearly read her mind and fulfilled her needs without needing to be told. 

Ellie could only groan in response, the sound muffled into the countertop as she shifted on her stool, clenching her thighs together tightly as a warmth coiled low in her abdomen.  

The embarrassment didn’t serve her, though it did serve to remind her that she had to have her head on straight going forward. This couldn’t happen again, even if it was all she could think about, even if her body was telling her she wanted more. Her control, careful and composed, had to be stronger; it couldn’t happen again—especially not with him, not with a pilot. Maybe if she repeated it enough, hummed it to herself like a mantra, she’d get herself back on the trail leading to the summit that was the culmination of her life’s work. 

Lt. Seresin was her Voldemort. He who shall not be named. Her Darth Vader. Her Hans Gruber. She couldn’t have sex with Voldemort again. Couldn’t risk the Resistance and give herself to the Dark Side. Couldn’t let the terrorists take Nakatomi Tower on Christmas. 

“It doesn’t.” 

“Exactly. I’m not sure what just went through your beautiful noggin’ just now, but next steps: be the badass I know you are. So what? You had a spectacular night—this guy has no idea how lucky he is to tap that.” Ellie wasn’t sure how seriously she would take it if her actual therapist sat across from her and crunched on gherkin pickles, folded between a slice of prosciutto and used tap that to drive home a point. She’d let it slide for Yan. 

“Also, don’t think I don’t see it,” Yan pointed with the Harvest Snap olive hybrid in Ellie’s general direction. “I’m being nice and I’m not even going to touch the fact that you had crazy, wild sex with a guy dressed as a pilot considering your no pilots rule.”  

“In my, very feeble attempt at self-defense: Who dresses as their actual profession on Halloween?”  

“Oh, that’s just Big Dick Energy vibes, El.” Yan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, as if she was waiting for Ellie to confirm if the vibe had basis in reality. When Ellie simply rolled her eyes, Yan continued, “let’s be real though—we’re in San Diego. You could probably throw a stone and hit a minimum of three pilots in a five-foot radius.” 

Ellie propped her elbow up on the counter, resting her head in her hand, her eyes scanning the swirled pattern in the quartz to the right of Yan’s paper plate. “So, just like that? I just, what? Duplicate the BDE?” 

“More like mirror it. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Yan nodded, using a Harvest Snap to spear an olive. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, so I won’t, but if I could talk about it, I’d say that I have a client who is an author, who shall remain anonymous, and he uses this crazy, hostage negotiation tactic when he wants to disarm and redirect.” 

Hostage negotiation. Great. This is what is had come to. 

Yan was right. Ellie couldn’t honestly say she was thinking straight when he’d looked at her with his green eyes and easy grin, the level of confidence with which he carried himself so goddamned attractive. She definitely hadn’t been thinking with the prefrontal cortex part of her brain when he’d touched her waist and leaned in close. 

Ellie levelled Yan with a narrowed gaze. “What would friend Yan say?”  

“As your friend who has witnessed some spectacular mistakes in your romantic track record, I’d say,” Yan paused for a moment, considering, Ellie thought, on how she might soften the therapist speak, “so what? You hooked up with him. Big deal. You didn’t know he was a real pilot. It was Halloween. You thought, reasonably, that he wasn’t. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like you have to work directly with him, right?” 

“Except I actually do.” Ellie sighed—she'd already thought about it on the drive home, if avoidance was a viable tactic for the next little while. “I’m the one with the new tech, remember? That means seeing him all the time. He’s part of the team they’ve recalled—he’s one of the best the Navy has to offer. He might need to test my tech if I have any hope of getting it off the ground.”  

Yan paused, mid bite of her cracker, processing for a moment in silence. “Okay. First—love the pun. Second, yeah, that sucks, but maybe he’s, like, cool? Like, he hasn’t been a complete ass about it yet, right?” 

“He pretended like he didn’t even know me,” Ellie muttered, crossing her arms as the memory of his infuriating smugness resurfaced, the way his eyes found the mark he’d made on her like she was his. The way she, for a fraction of a second, let him suck all the air out of the space between them. “Which, I guess is fair, since we didn’t exactly exchange names before....”  

“... before he fucked your brains out?” Yan offered, snapping a piece of Ritz cracker off between her teeth, nonchalantly, as if fucked your brains out was a normal, everyday, part of conversations she engaged in.  

Ellie balled up a nearby tea towel and threw it at Yan as hard as she could manage, and it fell woefully short on the island between them. 

“Okay, so, he’s trying to be professional. That’s not necessarily a bad thing?” Yan turned her back to Ellie for a moment, heading to the fridge to grab the jug of pink lemonade from the fridge before she turned and poured it into a cup that sat on the edge of the sink. 

Ellie shook her head as Yan shook the juice jug in her direction. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—weird? I don’t know how to act around him now.” 

“Oh girl, act like it didn’t happen, obviously. We both know you’re the queen of compartmentalizing, right?” 

Ellie sighed, sweeping her hair back, unconsciously touching the concealer hidden hickey, feather-light. “This is going to be a bit harder though. I just wasn’t planning on hooking up with someone I’d have to see every day.” 

Yan propped her elbows up on the counter across from Ellie before she carefully slid the plate of crackers, olives, cheese and mini pickles toward her with a grin. “Well, welcome to what we true believers call the Frequency Illusion. You’ll see him for as long as he’s front and center in your noodle. Simple explanation. Either that or you have some karmic balance to restore.” 

Ellie sighed, a sigh that sounded more like a drawn-out lament. “You make it sound like a go around kicking puppies.” 

“As my grandma used to say—God rest her soul—” Yan continued, hearing Ellie’s comment about karmic retribution, and traced a cross over her body, turning her eyes upward for a moment before she mocked pouring one out, “pussy rules the world. You set the tone. Own it. Be confident. If someone is going to squirm, let it be him. You’re holding all the cards.” 

“Set the tone?” Ellie repeated, slowly, considering. She didn’t bother to ask why Yan’s grandma, an unassuming small-statured, Filipino lady, obsessed with backgammon and finding the freshest cinnamon scones up until the very day of her passing, would have come to such a firm stance on pussy and its power level. 

“Yeah,” Yan was around the island now, fluffing Ellie’s hair and fixing the collar on her blazer, “you’re the fucking gorgeous, brainy radar engineer. He’s just some dude who got lucky on Halloween.” 

Ellie shrugged, avoiding eye—contact with Yan. “Maybe you’re right.” 

Yan leaned forward to tap Ellie on the tip of the nose, evidently satisfied with herself. “I’m always right, girly pop.” 

“Oh, is that right, huh?” Ellie swatted at Yan as she danced away, skip-hopping over to the fridge.   

Yan grinned, piling more olives onto her plate. “You know it. Now, eat some olives and get your game face on. Tomorrow’s another day, and you’re not letting some hotshot flyboy get the better of you. Even if he’s gorgeous and a generous partner.”  

Ellie shook her head, but she picked up a cracker as Yan tapped the plate before migrating to the living room. “God, this is a mess.”  

“Eh,” Yan shrugged, dropping to the couch and patting the empty spot beside her as she nestled under an oversized blanket. “Messy is more fun. Let’s watch Love is Blind Brazil, there’s apparently this super unhinged guy, Evandro who picked this girl, Ariela, who clearly isn’t over her ex—” 

“Speaking of,” Ellie crossed the room and dropped to the couch beside Yan, tugging some of the blanket over for herself. “What happened to Frankenstein?” 

“Oh, turns out he couldn’t keep it together,” Yan didn’t bother to look at Ellie, waving the remote at the TV as she scrolled, her lips quirked up in the corners into a smirk, “needed someone with a bit more heart.” 

“You’re so ridiculous.” 

Naval Air Station Lemoore, California - 2004 

Even after hours, the Californian sun sinking low on the horizon, Lemoore Naval Air Base was alive with a low hum of activity. F-14 Tomcats rested, wings folded in against their bodies, on the tarmac like sleeping giants, the lights from nearby hangars casting long shadows across the hot asphalt. 

She’d woken from another nightmare. It was always the same, a nightmare in which her dad didn’t come home, his plane screaming through the perfect blue sky one moment and then whistling to the surface of the azure water below, no ejection seat, no parachute. Just churning waves as they swallowed the body of the grey metal, silently, until there was nothing left. 

It was why, at 8:45 PM on a hot fall Californian evening, she found herself in her Justice League pajamas, shoes tied haphazardly, sneaking around the base. 

“Dad, we’re not supposed to be here,” Ellie whispered, her eyes wide as she hustled across the airfield, her small, seven-year-old hand clenching her father’s as he snuck from corner to corner, aircraft to aircraft. Stealth mode he’d called it. In her chest, Ellie’s heart pounded, the excitement mixed with the mischievousness of it all.  

Rick “Hollywood” Neven grinned, a roguish glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her by his side. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I know the boss.” He offered her a sly wink and Ellie could feel the anxiety ebb away slightly. She trusted him, always had. He was her dad, after all—the coolest person in the world.  

Slipping through the open hangar bay doors, Ellie’s eyes focused on the jet parked up in the center of the building. The one she’d only ever seen from a distance, her fingers laced through the chain link fence, her mom at her back, as the engines fired to life and her dad took to the air. Now, larger than life, it was here, looming large over her tiny frame. Ellie’s breath caught as her dad led her closer, the heavy scent of engine oil and metal filling her nostrils. Ground crew engineers milled about, running through their checks, but none of them stopped or questioned her dad. He was a legend here, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew him. 

Rick nodded at one of the crew members, and they moved aside as he led Ellie closer to the jet. “Come on, squirt,” he whispered, lifting her up to stand on a ladder beside the plane’s body. “Want to see where the magic happens?”  

Ellie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the jet’s gleaming surface. “This is your plane?”  

“All mine,” he said proudly, patting the side of the jet, his hand passing over his name Lt. Rick Neven and call sign, Hollywood, painted on the side just below the seam where the bonnet would connect. On the body, beside the rear seat, Lt. Leonard Wolfe, Wolfman was painted in white, his RIO.  

As she stared, wide-eyed, taking it all in, he pointed to different parts, explaining each with ease of someone who had lived and breathed this life for years, someone who could identify this machine as an extension of his own body. “That’s the engine, and those are the intakes. That right there is the radar, it’s here, in the nose too—probably the most important thing in the whole bird.”  

Ellie’s eyes scanned the instruments inside the cockpit, levers and buttons, throttles and sparkplugs. “Why?” Her face scrunched in thought.  

“Because without it, I wouldn’t know what’s coming my way. You see, when you’re flying up there, things happen fast. You need to know everything around you—what’s out there, who’s out there.” He turned, giving her a proud smile. “That’s where a good radar tech comes in. But the best radar tech?” He winked. “They’re sitting right behind the pilot.”  

“Like the RIO?” she asked, her voice full of wonder, eyes trained on her godfather’s name.  

“Exactly.” He gestured for her to step up higher, holding her waist as he lifted her into the cockpit. Ellie settled her tiny frame into the seat, her feet barely skimming the pedals in the footwell. Reaching back into the rear seat, he grabbed his helmet, the one adorned with his call sign, and the “lady butt” as Ellie called it. Carefully, he placed it on her head. The weight of it pressed on her neck, far too big, but she didn’t care. The weight of it made her feel important—like she was a part of something bigger, like she was in the cockpit with her dad. 

“Dad…” Ellie began, her voice small and muffled from under the oversized helmet as she pushed it up so she could see him. “What’s it like? Flying up there?”  

Her dad leaned against the side of the F-14, his gaze drifting out toward the open hangar doors where the night sky stretched endlessly above. “It’s like…freedom. Like nothing else in the world matters. Just you, the jet, and the sky. And when you’re up there, you feel like you can do anything.”  

Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she imagined, endless skies, horizon boundless, freedom. “Maybe I can be your RIO one day?”  

Her dad chuckled and Ellie could feel her heart swell, the thought of being here with her dad in his favourite place. He reached out and gently tapped the helmet on her head. “You’re already halfway there, kid. One day, you’ll be up there with me. I’ll be the one flying, and you’ll be the one keeping me safe, making sure we’re on the right track.”  

Ellie smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “Promise?”  

“I promise,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and Ellie could feel the pride growing in her, the thought of following in her dad’s footsteps both thrilling and nerve wracking. “Just don’t tell your uncle Wolfman. You’ll be putting him out of a job and I don’t know if the Navy is ready for two Nevens up there.” 

For a moment, it was just them in that cockpit, the noise of the hangar fading into the background as her dad told her to pull back on this throttle and showed her where the ejection handles were. Ellie could feel the importance of it, the way her dad talked about all of it. If her dad said she could do it, then she could—her hero, strong, invincible. Maybe she could be his RIO one day.   

He grinned and grabbed the straps of the helmet, giving it a loving shake. “Alright, kiddo. You got school tomorrow. Let’s get out of here before someone catches us.”  

Ellie laughed as he lifted her out of the cockpit and set her down, but as they walked out of the hangar, her hand still in his, she couldn’t help but glance back at the jet.  

“I think we just found your call sign, huh?” Her dad hummed as they stepped out into the night air, the sun now gone from the sky, replaced by the moon glow of a clear night. “Eleanor Rio Neven.” 

Ellie glanced up at him, her gap-toothed grin, wide. “I like it.” 

“Rio it is then. Hollywood and Rio.” 

One day, she thought. One day she’d earn that call sign. 

Ellie glanced at the email again to stick the office assignment in the forefront of her mind, standing in front of her open car trunk, before she locked her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her pressed pants. She was thankful she wasn’t Navy; she knew her strengths fashion wise, and it wasn’t the khaki tan colour of the service uniforms. Civilian contractors had the best of both worlds.  

Grabbing the heavy box of her things, Ellie dragged it from the trunk and hefted it, balancing it on her hip as she reached for the close trunk button.  

“Comm Center 11,” the security officer barely suppressed a chuckle as Ellie used the ledge in front of the glass to hold the box while she fished out her pass, “that’s clear across the airfield from here. You’ll have to take the perimeter; they’ll be running drills at this time. Pattern’s full.”  

“Thanks.” Ellie nodded, taking a moment to clip her pass to the waist of her pants before she lifted the box and used her hip to open the door onto the base.  

Shifting the weight of the box, Ellie tipped her chin as she passed a few officers and a few of the ground crew she half-recognized from the myriad of tours yesterday. Her things weren’t heavy individually—a few office supplies, models of the tech, schematics, a monitor, her MacBook—but stacked awkwardly, they made a clumsy, unbalanced load in the flimsy box with the caved in corners, reinforced with layers of packing tape.  

The morning sun was already intense, gleaming off the pavement so she had to squint as she moved forward, all her concentration on not dropping the box as she felt the cardboard bow under the shifting weight of her belongings, the occasional silence between the sound of jet engines and shouting staff filled by the steady clicking of her heels.  

“Need a hand?”  

The voice was unmistakable, easy, with a hint of banter around the edges, the barely concealed smugness cutting through the noise of the airfield. Ellie knew who it belonged almost immediately, the feeling of recognition hitting her square in the gut before she turned.  

Hangman. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ellie set her shoulders, adjusting her grip on the unwieldy box. Set the tone, she reminded herself, hearing Yan’s voice echo in the back of her mind. She had to hold her ground.   

Turning, her eyes landed on him immediately. He was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest, the khaki tan of his service khakis was definitely doing something for him, something dangerous for his sharp features and easy confidence. He knew he looked good. She could feel herself bristle slightly, caught off-guard by how cool and collected he looked, his lips quirked into a lazy grin, almost infuriatingly amused as he took her in. It felt tailor made to annoy the living hell out of her at this specific moment. He looked ready to swoop in if she so much as tipped the box the wrong way and she wasn’t sure if that grated on her nerves, or if it was something else entirely. 

“No, I don’t need a hand, Lieutenant Seresin,” she replied firmly, adjusting her grip on the box and her resolve. She turned around again resolutely ignoring him and starting off in her original direction, the corner of the already flimsy cardboard buckling, her belongings shifting inside as the box threatened to give way any moment. 

Sure enough, she heard his footsteps fall into pace beside her, an easy saunter as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re a civilian contractor; you can take it easy with the Lieutenant. You can call me Jake…” he began casually, before his voice dropped just enough to add weight to his next words, “since we’ve already been… acquainted.” 

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her pace slowing until she came to a stop. The box crumpled further under her suddenly tightened grip, and she thought she heard the tape coming away from the bottom of the box. She turned slightly, just enough to level him with a glare, all heat and warning. “I’m aware of what happened. That was… before.” Before she knew he was a real pilot. Before she knew cocky and smug were his default personality traits. “This is work, not—” 

“Not what?” he interrupted carefully, the mischievous glint in his eye almost twinkling now. “Not two, consenting adults who had a good time and now coincidentally find themselves working on the same base?” 

Great. So he hadn’t recently happened upon a semi-serious, short-term memory wiping head injury. How unlucky for her. She’d have to work on quashing the butterflies causing the stupid feelings in her stomach currently. The ones that told her she liked looking at his aggravating, annoying, idiotic, handsome face and hearing the charming southern drawl in his words. What was it that Yan had said? Another girl in a long line of hook ups? 

Ellie felt her face heat and not from the sun continuing to beat down. “That’s exactly what this is, actually. Coincidence. That’s it,” Ellie lifted her chin, defiant in the face of his easy charm, her voice dipping low as a crew member zipped past them in a golf cart. “One night. A one-time thing.” 

This time, he broke into a wry grin, but he didn’t speak, and Ellie felt as if he was waiting for her to continue, so she did. 

“Listen, I don’t know what your angle is, but whatever you think happened between us? It won’t happen again.” She kept her gaze trained on him, looking for the moment it might sink in. “I’m here to do a job, that’s it.” Ellie turned again, squinting against the sun as she continued on her way, her dramatic exit. She’d taken three full strides, the box betraying her confident pace, folding in as a piece of lose tape flapped in the breeze and stuck to her hand as her belongings rolled around, loose at the bottom, before Jake was at her side again.  

His eyebrow quirked up, but he didn’t look fazed. Amused, that was the more fitting word, Ellie thought. He looked entertained. By her struggle, by her refusal of his offer for help, even now as the box pitched, weight shifting oddly as the things inside moved around, uncontrolled. “My angle?” He repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it wasn’t butter. His tone was teasing and light. “So, you think I have an angle? You been doing a lot of thinking about me then, sweetheart?”  

Ellie rolled her eyes hard, and she picked up her pace. She pointedly ignored his question about her extracurricular thoughts, which definitely included thoughts of him despite her better judgement, but he didn’t need the confirmation. “I don’t know what it is, yet” the box pitched, and Hangman’s hand moved to right it, but Ellie angled it away from him, the sound of her monitor being smacked by the decorative arc reactor paperweight sending her stomach into a tip. “But yes, I’m sure you have one.”  

Firmly, Ellie pushed down the memory of Halloween. The chemistry between them had been a wildfire, quick, easy, starting as something small, possibly insignificant, and then grew unexpectedly, fast, all-consuming, searing, white hot, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It was only spoiled by seeing him again and realizing that he had been telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth the entire time. He was a pilot. A Lieutenant. A pilot just like every other pilot she’d ever met. Cocky, self-assured, overly confident, reckless. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, do me a favour—don’t. You’re not fooling me.”    

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He responded, smirking as he watched her wrestle with the box each step of the way. Part of her appreciated that he let her, liked that he respected that she’d said no and turned down his help.  

Before she could deflect, Ellie felt her heel catch just enough on an uneven bit of pavement, and the box, already unbalanced, began to teeter forward, the weight of the shifting contents making it more difficult to recover as she simultaneously tried to save her things and steady herself. Instinctively, she reached out to steady it, but Jake’s hand shot out, steadying her with one hand on her elbow and the other catching the box. He was good… really good. 

“Careful there,” he said softly, all hints of ribbing gone, his eyes locked on hers. “It’d be a shame if all that attitude ended up in a broken ankle.” 

Ellie felt a flush of frustration and something else she wasn’t willing to name, his touch igniting something in her she had to fight to press down again. Stiffening against his grasp, she quickly steadied herself and once she was sure the box was as balanced as she could get it, he carefully let go. In the wake of his skin on hers, she felt a coolness and part of her missed the contact. 

“I can handle myself, thank you” she murmured, but there was less bite. She left no room for him to question her assertation as she straightened herself to stand taller. Looking him dead in the eye was a feat, all six feet of him towering over her, even with the added height of her heels. 

“Never said you couldn’t.” He stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the smug look didn’t fade. “But just so we’re clear, if you ever need a hand, I’m around. For whatever. Work-related, of course.” 

Ellie didn’t answer, just tightened her grip on the box, ignoring the way her heart had quickened in that split second of closeness, his hand on her arm a beat longer than necessary after she steadied herself. She turned and continued toward her office, keeping her chin high and pretending she couldn’t feel Jake’s eyes on her. 

As she walked away, she heard him call out, “See you around, Ace.” 

“303,” Ellie murmured, clicking past the numbered doors, closed and plated with names that weren’t hers. “304,” she blew out a huff of air as her eyes flicked to the next door. 

She’d broken out into a bit of a sweat by the time she’d made it to Comms building 11, her calves aching. Now she knew why that security officer had laughed at the sight of her, the sad box of things in her grip already failing. Between the pace she’d kept up, a speed between confident stride and hectic hustle to get away from the man she’d been trying to avoid, and the distance between the parking lot and here, she’d hit her workout goal for the entire week. 

“305.” 

Rigby, E. Ellie glanced at the nameplate secured to the door and used her elbow to press down on the paddle handle, maneuvering expertly to use her hip to wedge the port open when she heard the click of the latch releasing. 

Turning into the space, Ellie paused for a moment, glancing back at the nameplate on the door for half a second longer when she took in the sheer size of the office. This had to be some kind of mistake, civilian contractors didn’t get windows, especially not eastern facing windows.  

The nameplate stuck to the door still said her name. The number above the port hadn’t changed. This was 305 and that was her name on the door. 

Stepping further inside, Ellie kicked the door closed behind herself, only registering that another person was in the room when they spoke. 

“Hey, Rio.”  

The call sign hit her, broadside, and drew her eyes immediately to the source.  

The man who leaned against the corner of the window ledge on the other side of the room, arms folded across his chest, was silhouetted against the bright morning light streaming in. Though his face had changed, laugh lines deepened around his eyes, the crease between his brow mostly cemented, likely exacerbated by all the young, hot shot pilots he’d watched breeze through Miramar over the years, she would recognize him anywhere. 

Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick. 

Ellie smirked as he stepped forward, taking the box from her without hesitation and sliding it onto the edge of the small coffee table, situated in front of the quaint sitting area which included a couch and an armchair. Free from the weight of the box, Ellie took a deep breath and, hands on hips, surveyed the space. “I think they made a mistake, Mav. This has to be your office. Way too big to be a civilian contractor’s, that’s for sure.”  

Maverick chuckled and Ellie could see the younger version of the man she’d met years ago behind the softened angles of his face. She guessed, in his eyes, she looked a lot different from the kid running around the airfield, causing trouble, getting in the way, herself. “Pulled a few strings. Anything for Hollywood’s kid.” 

She met his wry grin with a smirk of her own, a flash of gratitude filling her with a sense of the calm of familiarity, but she shook her head with a laugh. “Well, thanks for the royal treatment, but I think it’s a bit much.” Ellie gestured to the large space, the window behind Mav looking out onto the airfield, the grand mahogany desk waiting for a touch of personalization, an expanse of empty bookshelves behind it and the sitting area to her right.  

Her “office” at the base in Turkey had been little more than a space between two filing cabinets, open to the coffee station, water cooler and any Air Force pilot who thought she looked unassuming or unaware. She’d accepted that space as workable for over a year. This, by comparison, was at least seventeen steps up. For one, there was a door. “I was half expecting a supply closet, to be honest. Somewhere with more dust and a lot less… light.” 

Maverick closed the space between them, pulling her into a quick hug before he stepped back to really take her in, his hands framing her shoulders. “How’re you doing, kid? How’s Miramar treating you so far? Wouldn’t expect it’s anything Rio couldn’t handle.” 

“Rio,” Ellie tested out the old call sign, the second time she’d heard it from Mav in such a short time, a soft smile pulling up the corner of her lips slightly, “haven’t heard that one in a long time. I’m good.”  

She’d leave out the footnotes that included Hangman, or any possible complications that were attached to him for now. Instead, Ellie took a moment to look at Maverick, she hadn’t been expecting him to be here, hadn’t expected to feel the comfort in the presence of his easy nature. Seeing him settled the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, if only just a little bit. “So, they called you in to keep tabs on me, huh?” 

“Something like that.” A knowing look crossed his face, a smirk, the look of the old Maverick Ellie had known for the majority of her life. Cocky, self-assured, non-conformist, Maverick was the typical archetype of a pilot, at least every one that Ellie had ever encountered. “I figured I’d be a friendlier face than Admiral Simpson. Someone to get you started. I know Miramar’s not the… smoothest place to transition into.” 

Admiral Simpson. Stuffy, hard-lined, hard-nosed, Admiral Simpson. The same Admiral Simpson that had watch-checked and foot-tapped his way through her presentation the other day. The same Admiral she couldn’t help but feel would sideline her project if it meant delaying a mission for even half a minute. On the other hand, there was RADM Stark—welcoming and excited, and yet, there was something unreadable about her. Something that Ellie wasn’t sure she could trust behind the glad to have more estrogen in the room facade. 

There was a reason she had a reputation as someone to impress, there was a reason she was thriving in the man-made, old boys club that was the Navy. 

Ellie made a face, and Maverick simply pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows quietly. Maverick understood—he almost always did, especially when it came to following protocol, or rather, breaking protocol. Maverick hadn’t ever been any Admiral’s favourite pilot—especially not Admiral Benjamin, even if his daughter, Penny, thought differently. If anyone could help her navigate the difficult politics of Admirals and strict rules of engagement, it was Maverick. Maverick who, somehow, hadn’t been dishonourably discharged… yet.  

There was no doubt in her mind she would be thankful to have Maverick and his rule-bending in her corner as the go-between. 

“Smooth is overrated,” Ellie scoffed, shrugging. “I’m here to work—maybe make a few of you Navy boys cry in the process, if I’m lucky.” 

Maverick’s laugh was sudden and loud, genuine, the grin on his face wide.  

“Good,” he nodded, approvingly, patting her arm. “Well, in the spirit of smooth in the context of work, I’ve got some updates from the Admirals. Did you want to—” Maverick nodded toward the desk, and it took Ellie a moment to understand what he was suggesting, lost in the soft, blurred edges of nostalgia.  

“Yeah, of course. Better to just dive into the deep end with this, I guess.” 

Ellie rummaged for a second and dug her MacBook from the box, doing her best to ignore that there was a fresh dent in the lid as she swept over to the desk and Maverick settled in on the other side. 

“So I’ve had a chance to go over your reports and the preliminary data from the prototype testing on base in Turkey,” Mav started, his expression unreadable, though his posture suggested a relaxed, nonchalant approach. She supposed this was the most professional he would get with her. “It’s really impressive, Ellie. Your dad, he mentioned you were top of the game, he didn’t mention that you were running circles around the rest of us.” 

“I mean—” Ellie started, she kept her eyes on the screen of her laptop as it started up, “it’s all still relatively untested….” 

She pointedly ignored Mav’s mention of her dad. Hollywood wasn’t exactly a subject she wanted to touch on right now. Especially not with Maverick. She knew where it would lead. 

“Still. Must be something promising to get them to pull you here from halfway across the world.” Mav didn’t push the topic further as she saw him cross his legs, ankle on knee, in her peripheral. “It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of people if we can get it off the ground. I’m putting my weight behind this one, Rio—that counts for something. At least the Admirals think so.” 

“I hope so.” Ellie straightened herself in her chair, MacBook finally at the ready, despite a few broken pixels in the top left corner of the screen. “How do we tackle this then? Do I want to know what kind of resources they’re allocating for this?” 

Maverick paused for a moment, his hands passing over the armrests before folding his hands. “Good news or bad news?” 

“You know me, Mav—news is news.” 

“Well, they’re giving us pilots and significant testing time. They’ve put me on the testing schedules too, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me. We’ll run this as seamlessly as possible and get you the data you need to make this a reality.” Maverick’s fingers drummed on his knee, casual, calm. 

“Okay, that sounds like the good news to me….” Ellie cautiously made notes, her eyes returning to Mav as if she expected the other shoe to drop at any moment. So far, these were all workable resources. “I’ll get Records to pull the pilot files—”   

“No need, I’ve got them here.” Maverick reached to the chair beside him before sliding a folio across the desk toward her, thick with dossiers. “Fifteen pilots. They’re the best the Navy has to offer. All Top Gun graduates, all recalled for the current mission training. They’re giving us four of our choosing.” 

Ellie shrugged, her hand resting on the top of the stack of files, her thumb flipping through the first few tabs with call signs. Bob, Coyote, Duke, she nodded slowly, processing. “Well, to be honest, I was expecting far less—”  

“We have to run the testing of your tech alongside the mission training. They’re giving us two and a half months.” Maverick’s words hung in the air for a long moment, a moment in which Ellie’s eyes snapped to his and she searched for the lie there she knew she wouldn’t find. Maverick didn’t lie, he wasn’t the type. 

And there it was: the other shoe. 

Two and a half months. The initial research alone had taken years. Years of algorithm building, years of theoretical practice, years of begging for funding. Hell, the prototype alone had taken a year to create in a lab with her close oversight. Two and a half months was a drop in the ocean, a near impossibility. This was an out of the frying pan and into the heat situation if Ellie had ever seen one. “No pressure, right?” 

“RADM Stark is in our corner for now—Admiral Simpson has made it clear he’ll recommend moving forward with the mission with or without your tech,” Maverick didn’t sugar coat it and Ellie appreciated that about him—it wasn’t in his nature to soften the blow. “I think you and I would both prefer that it’s with. The more of these pilots we can bring home, the better.” 

Ellie glanced at the stack of files again, folded in the larger tan manila, and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay then, deep ending this.” 

“Pick your top candidates based on the needs of the tech and the testing. I’m looking forward to reading your report.” Maverick tapped the corner of the desk, standing before shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Let’s say my office. Tomorrow morning, 0800 sharp. Bring coffee.” 

“Careful Mav,” Ellie tutted, her eyebrow raised in a teasing way as she looked up at him over the top of her computer screen, “that sounds an awful lot like protocol. You’ve got a reputation for throwing out the rulebook to uphold around here.” 

Maverick waved her off as he headed for the door and Ellie watched him pause for just a moment, halfway out, his hand on the knob. “This isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park, kid. But if there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s you. Whether the name on the door is Neven or not—” Mav’s knuckles rapped against the solid wood, just under the name plate displaying her mother’s maiden name, “—the Nevens have a way of making things happen. You’re where you’re meant to be.” 

“Thanks.” 

Maverick offered her a small smile, cleared his throat and then stepped out of the door. “Oh, Ellie?” Maverick’s head was back through the door, his finger pointing to the shelving behind her. “I brought you a little office warming gift.” 

Ellie quickly found the small potted fern, the decorative pot it sat in painted with Be-LEAF in Yourself in neat block lettering. Ellie lifted the pot, turning with a raised eyebrow, displaying the saying. 

“Penny picked it out.” Mav shrugged, as if he himself were above the plant pun. When Ellie’s gaze didn’t shift, Mav waved a hand and retreated again. “0800 sharp, Rio. Two sugars, no dairy.” 

With a dry chuckle, Ellie turned back to the shelf, her eyes quickly finding something else where the pot had been, hidden. 

The photo in the frame was slightly faded, but the energy captured within the image felt timeless. It was a group shot, clearly taken at Miramar a lifetime ago, the California sun bright overhead, casting shadows across the tarmac where the four men stood, exuding effortless swagger. The aura of young pilots in their prime. 

Maverick was front and center, his signature aviators reflecting a blurred image of the photo taker, a familiar cocky grin stretching across his face. His flight suit was unzipped at the top, revealing the white T-shirt underneath. To his right, Ellie’s eyes focused on her dad. His posture, shoulders relaxed, mirrored Maverick’s, his smile easy but sharp, his trademark confidence that matched his call sign. 

Next to him, Wolfman, her dad’s RIO, his stance a little more casual but no less self-assured. He had an arm slung around Hollywood’s shoulder; their camaraderie apparent even through the static image. His grin was wide and mischievous, like he had just cracked a joke that made Hollywood laugh. Wolfman was always the one for jokes—always inappropriate, never failing to make her dad laugh. 

On the far left, slightly more composed but no less iconic, stood Iceman. His jaw was set, his aviators pushed up into his blond hair as he looked at the camera with a subtle smirk. Even in the informal setting, he carried himself with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew he was the best. 

The four of them stood against the backdrop of an F-14 Tomcat, the jet’s sleek frame gleaming in the sunlight. 

It was a snapshot of a time when they were young, fearless, and seemingly invincible—a moment frozen in time, untouched by the years and the weight of everything that would come after. In the reflection of the glass, Ellie could just make out her own face as she refocused, her eyes soft and her brow pulled together. 

Rolling her eyes, Ellie shook herself out of her own thoughts, scoffing as she snapped the picture face down, its support leg sticking up like that of a dead bug. 

If she wanted to survive here, if she had any hope of making a difference, she would need to keep her head on straight. No more distractions. 

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to leave here with something other than lint in your pockets, Bradshaw.”  

Jake grabbed the triangle and racked the balls as Rooster groaned, the wad of bills in the fold that came out of his pocket thinner than it had been at the beginning of the evening. He thumbed out another twenty and placed it on top of the growing pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table before he took a swig of beer. “Keep taking my money, Hangman and you’ll have to tell Nic why I can’t take her out on Friday.”  

“Oh, you want me to tell your girl her boyfriend can’t handle his balls?” Hangman smirked, shifting the triangle up to the foot spot on the table before carefully removing the rack. “You know, I’d be real happy to do that, Rooster.” Grabbing his cue, Jake nodded across the table, “how ’bout I let you break first then, give you a head start.”  

As Rooster leaned over the table to line up the break, Jake grabbed his beer, leaning up against the wall. The late-day sun streamed in through the windows of the Hard Deck, casting long shadows across the scuffed hardwood, the warm glow of golden hour adding a certain charm to the scrappy, Navy watering hole. It was routine by now, mission training, the Hard Deck, hustling pool for a little extra spending money, embarrassing Rooster who always seemed eager to try to prove he was better than Jake at the game. Wash, rinse, repeat. Steady pace for a Tuesday night. But tonight, Jake’s mind wasn’t on the pool game, or the growing pile of Rooster’s cash.  

Instead, it was occupied by thoughts of a particular Radar Tech who had, in two short days, carved out a space in his head: Eleanor Rigby. That surprised Jake—surprised him in ways that took the routine out of his usual one-night M.O. 

After he’d seen her that morning, struggling with the box, almost comically, and she refused his help outright, the end of the day had come quickly. Quicker than Jake had anticipated. Between the packed mission training and the maneuver refreshers, his head had been on a swivel, his eyes peeled, but he hadn’t managed to catch her again. 

The sharp crack of the cue ball breaking and scattering the striped and solids, pulled Jake’s focus back to the game. Rooster managed to sink one solid, smirking as he stepped back to find himself for another viable shot.  

“Nice shot, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, his eyes twinkling as he set down his bottle on the edge of a nearby high-top table. “I think this might be the first time you’ve hit something clean all week.”  

Rooster’s breathy laugh sounded for just a moment, his eyes sizing up the next shot. “Just wait, Bagman,” Rooster murmured, leaning over to line up his cue again. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be asking me for a loan.”  

“Bold for someone down to their last twenty.” Jake smirked, chalking his own cue. He waited for Rooster to take his shot—missing a corner pocket by a hairsbreadth—before stepping in to size up the table, tutting. “Might have to start playing some tunes for tips,” he nodded over to the piano in the corner. 

They rotated between trading teasing banter and goading remarks for a moment before Jake’s inquiring mind got the better of him, swimming with thoughts of her face, the way she looked at him within the new frame that existed outside of their Halloween encounter. 

“So,” Jake started, casually, nonchalant, as he chose his next shot, Rooster having missed his solid, and bent to take aim, lining up a striped ball with the corner pocket. “We have a new radar tech or something—Rigby?” Jake played dumb, played disinterested, acted as if he didn’t know her name, pretended he didn’t like the way the mark his mouth had left on her neck stuck out in sharp contrast to her put together, professional look the other day. 

As he looked up from under his lashes, Jake could see Rooster pause mid-sip of his beer, eyebrow raised. “Rigsy? Radar Tech, Engineer I think the proper term is. She’s Nic’s best friend. Her roommate now too, actually.” Rooster set his beer down carefully, “Why? What’s your angle?” 

Rigsy. So Rooster knew her outside of work. Jake carefully stored the information, his eyes never leaving the cue ball and the line of aim with the striped ball. “No angle,” he replied evenly, taking the shot and sinking the striped ball and another in its path with ease. “Just curious. Seems like she’s got the brass wrapped around her finger already.” 

“That’s because she’s good at what she does,” Rooster said, stepping away to the bar and grabbing two more bottles of beer before he returned to the table. “Smart, like, real smart. No nonsense, she won’t put up with any crap. Not the usual type you’d chase, though,” 

Jake took the shot, and the ball ricocheted off the pocket point in a way he hadn’t expected, missing the striped ball he’d lined up with that pocket, wide. Straightening, he chuckled, leaning against his cue stick, stepping back for Rooster’s turn. “Who says I’m chasin’, Bradshaw?”  

Rooster’s response was a snort as he stepped up to the table. “Sure, man, whatever you say,” he glanced up at Jake, a knowing look crossing his face, eyes incredulous, eyebrow peaked. “You don’t exactly have a reputation for curiosity without motive, Seresin.” 

Jake smirked, but didn’t respond, moving in to take another shot instead when Rooster missed his second shot and Jake sunk two more stripes in quick succession. He felt Rooster’s gaze lingering, and despite trying to play it cool, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that had been brewing since he’d seen her on Halloween. More so since seeing her here, at Miramar again, of all places. When she’d let him come back to her place and he’d fucked her until her knees shook, he hadn’t expected to see her again. Now, now he thought about what it would have been like if she’d known his name then, what it would sound like for her to moan it, beg him for more. It was enough to drive him dangerously close to mad. 

Jake missed the next shot, his mind hazed with the thought. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest and tried to act uninterested. “Say I’m curious for… curiosity’s sake: what’s her deal? Anything I should know?” 

“Oh shit—you really don’t know…” Rooster raised an eyebrow, taking a deep swig of his beer, studying the label as he tried to contain his smirk, before replying. “You don’t know who her old man is, do you?” 

Jake froze slightly at that, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed at the pilot across the table from him. “Her old man?” 

Rooster chuckled and shook his head, his tone low as he tapped the cue stick on the floor. “Rick Neven. Hollywood. Shot down in combat on a mission over the Gulf. Made sure his WSO got out first and ejected too late just above hard deck. Broke his back in three places. Docs said it was nothing short of a miracle he was alive, but that he’d never walk again.” 

Jake blinked, the weight of the name hitting him immediately. Hollywood. One of the legends. The same pilot whose photo was framed alongside Maverick and Iceman, Goose and Slider in the halls all around base. He took a breath, trying to process it, while trying his best to keep composure. “You tellin’ me she’s Neven’s kid?”  

Rooster nodded, continuing as if he knew the exact thoughts running through Jake’s mind. “Yeah, man. That’s Rigsy’s dad. Big shadow to live under. She’s been pretty much anti-pilot her whole life, from what I’ve gathered.” 

Jake felt the words settle in his gut, realizing just how tangled this was becoming. Ellie wasn’t just some random civilian contractor; she came with baggage, a history that had been shaped by the same world they both lived in—but from a very different perspective. And after their Halloween encounter, he suddenly understood why she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. It also explained the guardedness in her eyes, the bite in her sarcasm. 

“She doesn’t really talk about him much,” Rooster added, his voice dropping slightly, as if sensing Jake’s shift in mood. Rooster had always been good at that, even if Jake didn’t want to admit it. “Nic says it’s a sore spot. That and her folks splitting.” 

Jake set his cue down, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wrap his head around it. “Damn.” 

“You’re in over your head with that one, Hangman,” Rooster said with a knowing smirk. “She’s not your usual type, and if you somehow manage to get past all those SAMs she’s throwing out, she sure as hell won’t make it easy.” 

“Wouldn’t be any fun if she did, Rooster.” Jake let out a dry chuckle, picking up his beer and taking a long drink. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she did.” 

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[accirax]

Revisiting My Original DRDT Death Predictions

If you haven't been following what's going on over at @av-multifangan, Venus and I have been posting one of our fangans, Danganronpa: One Shot. Hooray! But, more relevantly to this post, we also posted the rules to a game that we've been playing for a long time-- a game through which you can score your performance at guessing how a fangan's kill order will go after viewing only its prologue.

Said old game was also invoked when we began watching DRDT, so I thought it would be a fun trip down memory lane to see what my genuine initial predictions for the entire killing game were after viewing just a little over an hour of Despair Time content.

While all of us non-cast-and-crew members obviously don't know the entire kill order at this point, I can rest assured that these predictions, well... ain't it. But, that's part of the point! To prove that even the creators of this predictions game can be terrible at it, and that there's no shame in making a guess and then changing your mind!

... Oh boy.

SPOILERS for DRDT through the end of Chapter 2, and IMPLIED SPOILERS for SDR2 and v3!

Well, no use in dilly-dallying. Here's my predictions sheet:

(god damn why is the quality so bad--)

If you haven't read the rules of our game, I'll quickly summarize them here. You have to predict the killing game using the most standard formula: one Chapter 1 victim and killer, one Chapter 2 victim and killer, double kill in Chapter 3 with one killer, one Chapter 4 victim and killer, one Chapter 5 victim and killer, and four survivors with a "surviving" (until Chapter 6) mastermind. These roles are listed out in rainbow order (Chapter 1 death = red, Chapter 6 = purple), and victims are marked with an X while killers are circled. The survivors are circled in purple, with a cyan star on the suspected mastermind.

At the end of the game, you gain points based on how far off you were, such that a low score is good. It's +2 points for getting the role wrong (victim vs killer/mastermind vs survivor), with an additional +1 point per chapter for how far you are off from the characters' last.

Although the quality is low, hopefully you can figure out what I predicted using those instructions-- or the image ID, if it's still too tricky. And, of course, I'm going to go through all of my choices below, starting with

XANDER in the role of CHAPTER 1 VICTIM

"Accirax," you may ask. "Why are you acting so doomed about your predictions when you literally got 1/4 of the confirmed deaths correct?" Unfortunately, my friend, I was already spoiled about Xander's death before I started watching DRDT. I'm very grateful that I had no idea about the circumstances of Xander's death (AKA, him stabbing Teruko) going in. But, I think I'd seen some thumbnail somewhere of Xander's BDA and knew he was a goner.

Hence, this was a free 0 pointer for me. I'm not that cool.

ARTURO in the role of CHAPTER 1 KILLER

Now, why I thought Arturo of all people would be the one to kill Xander is beyond me. I think my rationale was that, at the time, Arturo was giving me early death vibes, and this was the only spot I could put him in?*

This is one of the predictions that I know is wrong, because the Chapter 1 killer spot has already elapsed. The best I could do now points-wise is if Arturo is the Chapter 3 killer (I'd get +2 points for being two chapters off), which is definitely still feasible! Still, I wonder now if Arturo's vibe is too obvious for being a killer, and if he would ever be willing to put ~Julia Rosales'~ life in jeopardy by attempting to escape. J certainly isn't doing herself any favors with that Felicity reveal, at least.

ROSE in the role of CHAPTER 2 VICTIM

*This is where things get... a little complicated. As I already said, I had been spoiled to the fact that Xander was the Chapter 1 victim. However... I also thought I had been spoiled to the "fact" that Rose was the Chapter 2 victim?

I really don't know how this happened. I have a distinct memory of seeing a Tumblr post containing something that sort of looked like what I imagine an Ultimate Art Forger Lab could look like(?) talking about how the characters needed to investigate to figure out who killed the Ultimate it belonged to. I thought I remembered seeing Rose's face, but this was before I had ever watched any DRDT content. So, it's possible I had the wrong fangan, or accidentally stumbled into someone's AU.

It was pretty funny looking back on my Chapter 2 viewing experience, though. When Teruko got Rose's secret, I was like, "oh, it totally makes sense that DRDTdev would give Teruko Rose's secret as a natural way to hear about Rose's backstory before she dies. Clever." And then we got to the day of the motive reveal, and Rose is there, and David says that Arei of all people is missing, and my jaw dropped. "Spoilers," indeed.

It sucked for me at the time of making this sheet, though, because Rose was, like, the only woman I got survivor vibes from (other than Teruko). But, I thought I couldn't mark her as such! Of course, Rose could be a Chapter 3 victim for all I know, meaning that being "forced" to put her in this spot could actually be good for my predictions. However, scoring 0 points on Rose is fully off the table now, which is a bummer.

DAVID in the role of CHAPTER 2 KILLER

"Why couldn't you have put Arturo as Chapter 2 killer--" I also thought I had been spoiled that David was the Chapter 2 killer. If I didn't make Arturo the first killer, the earliest I could have put him would be Chapter 3 victim, which is hardly early at all. And yes, I thought I'd been spoiled on three out of "four" of the canonical deaths when I originally watched the series. That's just my life (/lh).

At least this one is obvious to figure out why I thought it was the case. I started watching DRDT in May of 2023, about a month and a half after 2-11 dropped. Hence, I knew DRDT was on hiatus, but I was under the impression that it was a hiatus after Chapter 2 had finished. I'd also seen 2-11's thumbnail, recognized it as David, and (along with having spoilers about David's "true personality") concluded that David must be the Chapter 2 killer.

Live footage of me watching 2-11 for the first time:

"Ah, there he goes... Man, we're gonna have to wrap this murder up quick, huh? I guess that's why he's admitting to it... Haha, 'Teruko, we fucked up'... WAIT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S A HIATUS ON AN UNSOLVED MURDER?!"

I decided quickly afterwards that I no longer believed that David would be the Chapter 2 killer.

Finally, we're done with roles that already happened/that I had "spoilers" for! You'd think that would automatically make them better (because most of them, at least, have not been disproven), but there are still plenty of things that contradict what I believe will happen now, at least.

LEVI and HU in the role of CHAPTER 3 VICTIMS

Relatively, though, this one isn't that bad. Don't get me wrong, these two aren't my leading candidates for Chapter 3 victims, but I'm not actively opposed to this happening.

The idea of Levi nearly evading dying at the end of Chapter 2 only to actually become a victim in Chapter 3 is a little puzzling, but still narratively on the table, imo. So much happens in a DRDT Chapter's worth of daily life that Levi could definitely still serve enough of a narrative purpose to justify his continued survival/eventual victimhood in that Chapter. Especially if that purpose had something to do with the fact that he was injured-- for instance, if it's important for an Arturo arc of learning that he actually enjoys taking care of others, or if the killer has to exploit Levi's injuries in order to have the strength necessary to take him out.

Meanwhile, I've long held the opinion that Hu will be a big character in the Chapter 3 Daily Life by virtue of not having done a whole lot in the Chapter 1 or 2 Daily Lives-- she definitely has content, but the majority of the important stuff occurs in the Chapter 2 Trial. Currently, I'm of the opinion that that spike of content wouldn't result in a same-Chapter death, but following in the footsteps of Xander and Arei, it definitely could. Same with Levi if he's a Chapter 3 focus, honestly.

J in the role of CHAPTER 3 KILLER

I really still want to believe that J will be a killer. Why? It's because, in my opinion, Ultimate Effects Artist is a talent that is totally optimized for being a blackened, whether it actually happens or not. You know why the idea of J and Arei swapping places was so popular? Because Ultimate Effects Artist is the kind of talent you give someone if you want to pull a trick like that off!

However, all of that "murder is despicable" talk is really cramping my style. Why would J ever become a blackened after opposing the idea of murder so openly?

(It'd be pretty funny if it was all an act so that people would use that as an argument to her credit down the road.)

It's possible she could have a crisis of faith/breaking point that would change her mind, but I doubt that would occur as quickly as Chapter 3. Or result in her killing two people. Sigh.

AREI in the role of CHAPTER 4 VICTIM and EDEN in the role of CHAPTER 4 KILLER

OKAY HEAR ME OUT BEFORE YOU ACCUSE ME OF CALLING EDEN EVIL--

Chapter 4 is, oftentimes, the sacrifice chapter, right? It's a killer that makes everybody cry, because they'd never normally do something like this, but ultimately decided to kill in order to spare their friends and take the bullet themselves. I'm, like, 99% sure that's what I was imagining for Eden. Whatever the motive may be, Eden would be the small and scrawny sacrifice killer in sort of a reversal of the buff curse...

... taking out the mean bully girl that everybody hated as the victim, if she had to choose someone.

I'M SORRY I'M SORRY STOP HITTING ME WITH ROCKS-- (/j)

But yeah, I definitely remember predicting that part of the surprise of the case was that the small nerdy girl was able to take out the Ultimate athlete mean girl. I don't know how I managed to deduce that Eden and Arei would have an important relationship with one another after the prologue (in which they don't really talk at all, to my memory), yet managed to get it so horribly wrong. Predicting that Eden would kill Arei was just in my DNA, I guess, even if I originally envisioned it for a different chapter.

In the light of Ace being declared the Chapter 2 killer, this one is just embarrassingly wrong. Evidently, Eden would never stoop as low as to kill Arei. The good news for me, I suppose, is that Arei will only net me +2 points, as the role was correct (V=V) while the chapter was 2 off (4->2).

As for Eden being the Chapter 4 killer, that's not one of my top spots for her. If I had to pick, I'd probably guess either Chapter 3 victim (especially if paired with Charles Ch3 Victim, this could really knock the wind out of Teruko's sails if needed), Chapter 5 victim (allows her a long period in the story that isn't a survivor nor a killer), or just a survivor (and/or mastermind). If she were to be a killer, then maybe I'd predict Chapter 4 along the sacrifice angle? Not with Arei, though.

MIN in the role of CHAPTER 5 VICTIM

+6 points (5->1) (V->K) on Min is... not the greatest score. In fact, it's only one fewer than the general max possible character score of 7, reserved for Chapter 1 deaths mistaken as Survivors and vice versa.

I think my original prediction for Min was that she would not necessarily be Teruko's support character emotionally, but that she would be a useful aide when it came to solving the mysteries of the Class Trial. Then in Chapter 5, to force Teruko/the other innocent students to solve the high-stakes Trial on their own, she would have to disappear.

Looking back on it, I really enjoy how Teruko is far and away the best at solving the Class Trials in DRDT-- she would have already earned the title through her connections to, like, literally every character and theme in the story, but making her the principal mystery solver really hammers the idea that she should be the protagonist home. Having Min be on Team Spotless for even one Trial might have diminished that effect, so it makes sense that she became the first blackened. Girl was too powerful to live, smh.

WHIT in the role of CHAPTER 5 KILLER

Personally, I've always gotten the vibe that Whit is one of DRDTdev's Special Little Guys. Perhaps it was the way that he showed up in three character introductions-- Charles', Hu's, and his own-- that made me think he had Favorite Character Privileges. As such, even when (get ready for a truth bomb) I didn't really like Whit after watching the Prologue for the first time, I always thought he had late game energy.

(I don't know how much it really comes across from my blog, but I'm actually fairly critical of new series when I pick them up for the first time, unless I've heard many positive recommendations from friends/online personalities I admire. Other than the spoilers, I hadn't heard too much about DRDT before I started watching it, so, unaware of DRDTdev's writing skills, I was worried that Whit would essentially be a poor man's Kokichi. As someone who really likes Kokichi, that biased me against Whit. Then, of course, I actually watched the series and Whit won me over very quickly. And the rest is history :) )

I’m not really sure why I went killer over victim, other than the possible “I’m making Min the victim and therefore Whit has to be the killer.” Maybe it was that Kokichi-ness that made me think that he'd be the man behind the slaughter? ... Even if Kokichi wasn't actually the blackened in that case? It might've also been an effect of wanting him to be just that much closer to surviving, to fully break the hearts of everyone who was rooting for this Special Little Guy to survive.

Like, uh... me. Um. Well, I do genuinely currently think Whit will survive right now, so... I'm willing to take a +3 if that's true!

TERUKO in the role of MASTERMIND

Yeah, I predicted that Teruko would be the mastermind because I'm a basic bitch (/aff). Uh, I'm not being affectionate towards myself, to be clear. I'm only being affectionate to those who still hold the (fairly, I think) popular opinion that Teruko will be the mastermind of DRDT. She's a popular choice because there's a lot going for her! I still ranked her as third most likely back in my mastermind analysis!

Everyone who plays Venus' and my game is forced into the same default formula (to make comparative scoring easier), and that formula locks in the protagonist as a Chapter 6-er, because of how frequently that is the case. Even so, I feel fairly confident now that Teruko will survive until Chapter 6 anyways. The more times she says "I'm the Ultimate Lucky Student and I can't die" and then doesn't die, the weirder it would be if she suddenly did drop dead in, like, Chapter 4.

As for whether she actually is the mastermind... dude, I have no idea. Back at the time I wrote that post, I named J and Rose as my most likely candidates, but now J has gone on a whole anti-murder bend and I'm growing increasingly worried that Rose is going to be the Chapter 3 killer (probably unfounded, but still). That would leave Teruko as the most likely option, but Teruko's behavior at the end of Chapter 2 felt anti-mastermind coded to me, too, even if she forgot about it...!

We are not reviewing my mastermind theories here and now. Next!

CHARLES in the role of SURVIVOR

If you're a giant fucking nerd (/j), you might have noticed that I said I made my DRDT predictions after viewing "just a little bit over an hour of Despair Time content." However, the Prologue is under an hour. What gives?

Well, I... broke the rules of our game, actually. You're supposed to make your predictions sheet after viewing the Prologue only, but I went straight from watching the Prologue into Chapter 1 on the same day, and I forgot to make my sheet until watching Chapter 1 Episode 1. Sue me.

At any rate, I'm sure you can figure out how watching 1-1 would make me think that Charles would survive. Obviously, I knew that other characters beyond Charles would get focus in later episodes, but that still doesn't change the fact that DRDTdev chose to highlight Charles and Teruko's relationship as the first thing we saw in the first chapter of their story. Even without that extra content, though, he's also very reminiscent of Danganronpa's "Jerk" archetype, which survived in every canon DR game.

All that said... obviously, I don't think he's going to survive anymore.

I've been saying that Charles is a Chapter 3 victim-- at least since that analysis I just linked, even-- and I will probably continue to say it until proven false by the story itself. He is simply arcing too fast, and Whit needs to be confronted with that grief he prefers to ignore, no matter what his eventual placement is. We got one real Trial with Charles to prove what a smarty-pants he is, but now that he's pulled that "out of your element" card, he's off to break down into two or more simpler substances. AKA, decompose.

If he's not a Chapter 3 victim, though, Survivor is at least back on the table.

ACE in the role of SURVIVOR

Here we have it! Proof positive that I (falsely) believed that Ace would be a survivor all on my own, without taking into account anyone else's opinions! My incorrectness is mine and mine alone!!! (/j)

So, yeah. Funny coward man go brrrr and character arc into survival, except then he didn't. I have to imagine that's the basic premise behind why so many people believed that Ace would survive. I don't really have much to say about this choice beyond that.

I don't like that I'm already tanking another +6 points (S->K) (6->2) from Ace, though. Save me Xander-zero-point spoilers, you're my only hope.

VERONIKA in the role of SURVIVOR

Whaaaaaaaat was I cooking here?

I guess I kind of remember. I think I was imagining Veronika along the lines of a poor man's Sonia (like I said, critical) due to her more apologetic attitude towards rambling and presenting others with horror concepts in the Prologue. With my prediction that Whit would die in Chapter 5, I guess I might've also been thinking that Veronika could then fill in that "comic relief" void in his absence? I also had Ace there, though. Moot point; every DRDT character has the capacity to be hilarious.

There are a lot of places I could see Veronika landing in this killing game, but survivor really isn't one of them. I could see Veronika as a Chapter 3 victim or killer for The Vibes, Chapter 5 victim or killer if she takes on more of a main antagonist role, or Mastermind also for The Vibes. But survivor is just... odd. At least from this point in the story, what business does the "fangirling over acevi dying" girl have taking up one of those coveted survivor slots? Surely either someone would think to kill her or she would decide to kill before four more chapters elapse!

That being said, locking in Veronika as a late game character isn't terrible in my eyes. Being "barred" from making Rose a survivor, I remember that Veronika was the girl who I initially got the second most late game energy from. Those Chapter 5 or Mastermind scenarios won't score terribly here if they come to pass.

NICO in the role of SURVIVOR

I want to mention here that, despite my other spoilers, I did not know that Nico was nonbinary going into Despair Time. Therefore, I didn't make Nico a survivor under the premise of "I'll have two girls, two boys, and one enby survive!" I don't really remember why I did make Nico a survivor, though.

My best guess is that I put them there for cast composition purposes. From the Prologue, all of Charles, Ace, and Veronika are pretty over-the-top in their own ways: Charles is overly condescending, Ace is really loud, and Veronika is an exaggerated fangirl. Adding in a quieter character like Nico would have been a nice way balance to the others... or at least, so I thought with only the Prologue to go off of. Now I know that Ace and Nico surviving together was incredibly unlikely to be the case.

Speaking of Ace, now that he's dead (and therefore can't be a survivor), my opinions of whether Nico could survive have definitely gone up. However, I still don't think that Nico surviving is particularly likely.

There's definitely potential for redemptive survivors in DRDT with the "fighting your fate" theme they seem to be setting up. But, I think that's more likely to play out with someone who might have committed murder before the killing game (like Levi) or someone who did terrible things, but never went so far as to physically attempt another student's murder (like David), than someone who actually attacked someone else and nearly succeeded. For media in general, I think it's much easier for audiences to forgive something that happened off-screen and/or to characters that barely exist than something that we saw visible evidence of on a character who many people adore. Nico's attempted murder just seems like a big hurdle to overcome on their path to survival, dude.

That being said, I've written before that for both in-universe and meta reasons, I don't think we'll ever see Nico as a blackened, which already eliminates, like, half of my options moving forward. Logically, that would conclude that if I don't think that Nico will become a victim, then they're likely to survive. I do (currently) think that Nico will probably be a victim sometime in the future, even if I'm not certain in which chapter. For the sake of my score on Nico specifically, I guess I'm rooting for Chapter 5. I already know that they wouldn't be robbing Min of a perfect zero, at least.

And that's my tally so far, a total of 14 points out of a possible... well, I actually don't know what the highest possible score is, both because math is hard and because I don't know what bonus rules, if any, will come into play in DRDT's future. It's 14 points across 4 characters, which comes out to an average of 3.5 points per character.

Comparatively, most of our game sheets have come out somewhere in the high-30 to mid-40 points range (predicting is hard). Across 16 characters, means that it's usually an average of, like, 3 points per character. So, I'm doing worse than usual, but not by a whole lot...!

But, how well I do isn't what matters. The important thing is that I had fun while making it, and got to think about what patterns and possibilities can arise when you look at the basic facts of a character's simplified personality and talent in time with their role in the story!

So if you want to have fun making a predictions sheet like this of your own, you should totally go read Danganronpa: One Shot's Prologue (before Chapter 1 starts airing on Friday) over at @av-multifangan and fill out that game's prediction sheet. That would mean that this shameful shameless attempt at cross-promotion would have succeeded at one of its desired effects! Or, if that's not your cup of tea, you could also fill out a predictions sheet for DRDT moving forward, and just acknowledge that Xander, Min, Arei, and Ace were placed after the fact. Who knows, maybe I'll make a sheet like that too, so we can compare.

Thanks for walking down memory lane with me, and I hope to be back with more DRDT content soon!

[profoundlyfaded]

Thank you for answering!

I came to the same conclusion, with similar reasoning - yes, the fear of dying is probably the biggest aspect, but I had other factors both influenced by the romance and out of it but linked.

What I love about the idea of Lichdom in this game is that it’s not something evil. You have to have a moral conscience to survive the sifting of the soul, and I think deep down that Emmrich doesn’t think he’s good enough for it - I’ve mentioned it before when I added those thoughts to your post about the Harding dialogue - he’s been ridiculed and received scorn for coming from poorer means. That sort of thing leaves a mark on the mind no matter how much you rise. Simply, he fears death and fears he is not good enough through deep buried shame.

At this point in his life, I don’t think a non-romanced Emmrich would choose Lichdom either. The implication I get is that he already has the right to undergo the final rites and has been putting it off. It feels to me that he if he hadn’t left with Rook, he’d have waited to attempt the final rites until he was on his death bed - the last chance to avoid eternal death, and more time to stock up on being mentally worthy.

Within the romanced storyline, I think another reason that Emmrich would chose mortality is because even if you say you’re okay with Lichdom (that said, I don’t know how this conversation looks for a non-Mourn Watch Rook), I don’t think he would actually take that at face value. I actually think he would be held back by the consideration that loving an entity of dead flesh and bone, would be a step too far. He’s at great pains to tell Rook that the usual rules don’t apply - which basically translated as ‘it’s not classed as necrophilia, darling, I’ll have a soul’. So clearly, there is a rule that you don’t engage in romantic relationships with the undead - probably why he’s so pissed off with Taash for calling him a skull fucker; it’s abhorrent.

That fear of Lichdom being a step too far is represented in the crypt scene after The Fade in the Lich Path; they’re in private but he’s in mortal form. My initial, raw analysis of that was he was giving Rook comfort with the familiarity of the face they fell in love with but no, the decision to appear mortal is about him and his feelings. He thinks Rook’s feelings have diminished and there is the gentle push away when he tells them they need to rest because he’s bracing himself for the end. I suspect there is a part of romanced Lich-Emmrich who might consider the relationship close to the moral line of the aforementioned abhorrence.

As an over thinker, romanced Emmrich would have probably considered this in the abstract and would have been another barrier for him in choosing Lichdom. He will do anything to keep Rook, even face his greatest fear and put aside his life’s work to keep them.

As an aside, it’s quiet funny really that if you go down the Lichdom route, you are quiet possibly unleashing pure, unbridled chaos if Emmrich is romanced. He’s so polished and comes across as beyond reproach - you think to yourself, he’s a guy who can handle the responsibility of watching over the world for eternity…. Nothing could possibly go wrong here…

You’ve done the deep dives, and considered a good number of elements in your study of Emmrich’s romance… so my question is… for a romanced Emmrich, of course…

At the point of making the decision, if Emmrich was making it autonomously, would he choose to remain mortal or become a Lichlord?

And why?

When I read this at 6:00am yesterday I sat like this for a good 20 minutes before passing out, contemplating -

And I think I have an answer for you.

Romanced Rook

With a romanced Rook, I think (and yes of course a developer, and RPG decision, but outside of that -) a romanced Rook x Emmrich and this decision is actually an important part of their dynamic. We think back to the graveyard scene, the one where you can discuss lichdom and commit to his romance. He specifically states that he will inform Rook before making any decision and gather their input, as Emmrich will consider a romanced Rook a 'close family member'.

I believe Emmrich is also looking for that validation. We know how 'fast' a romanced Emmrich and Rook can progress in their relationship because they are perceived outside of their relationship to be two fools in love. I think Emmrich is asking Rook as a form of, what do I do? What are you okay with? I think Emmrich may believe that Rook knows him better than he knows himself at that point in time. Rook mirrors his fears too. Emmrich has a fear of death, Rook a fear of failure.

All in all i think Emmrich seeks out Rook's advice because he loves them and I think that's important.

The Decision

This is quite a difficult decision, but if we look at the dialogue during each choice in that scene, I believe if Emmrich was making the decisons autonomously, he would choose mortality. I say this because when you choose lichdom as Emmrich's decision path, the reasoning for choosing it is "you are well equipped to deal with lichdom emmrich". I beg your finest pardon but in what universe is he well equipped. He did not in a mere FEW HOURS, get over the fear death. He could barely hold up the lantern untill Rook encouraged him and manfred showed him what courage is. I think pure love and courage that was shown to him would factor into his own decision. Additionally, if you choose the mortal decision of resurrecting manfred, he requires far less 'convinving' and Rook offers simple guidance, "oh ya know things maight be easier: compared to "youre well equipped do it".

All in all, I think he would, in his decision, choose mortality. Simply because Emmrich has his life now, his family, and he can see that. You can see that in the final boss fight with Hezenkoss. He chose to be courageous. Lichdom was his way to escape his fears, not transcend them in the name of love.

[kithj]

i've been playing veilguard lately and i have to say the dialogue in this game is some of the most frustrating i think i've ever seen in a choice RPG like this. Rook is locked as a friendlier character, which isn't a problem, but this lock out has resulted in a lot of the dialogue lacking in variation.

i chose the "Block it out" option here only for my Rook to say "Block it out. You're safe" but "You're safe" was already its own separate option-- this isn't how you write dialogue choices. again, i don't have an issue with Rook being friendly, but you shouldn't railroad players into certain dialogue.

if they wanted "You're safe" to be the common/reconvening dialogue, then it shouldn't have been made a choice at all. the wheel could have been something like this:

nice: "I'm right here with you."

aggressive: "Block it out."

panicked/confused: "Shit. Talk to me. Please."

-> all reconvene at "You're safe."

and this is a repeated problem. i've favored the aggressive options this entire time (which aren't really aggressive to begin with) but Rook will almost always still wind up saying the nice option instead. another example is early on:

again i chose the more aggressive "Maybe you should have" choice only for Rook to say something along the lines of "Maybe you should have [...] But we have to support each other now." (it's been a minute since i played this part so it may not be exactly word for word but i remember even then at the start of the game being annoyed that she still worked her way back around to saying option 1)

it's not that Rook is friendly, it's that she's literally saying dialogue options that i did not pick. it's fine for there to be a common dialogue repeated across choices/flavor texts, but not when it's the literal choice text itself. it feels like i'm being railroaded with every dialogue.

[that-was-anticlimactic]

i will never understand how or why the httyd movies did the books such an injustice.

the movies aren't even an adaptation - they stole the name of the series, the name of some of the characters and places, and the general idea that there are dragons. honestly, i would be fine with the movies and maybe even like them if they didn't capitalize off of cressida cowell's incredible books that never get any credit.

the books are an amazing story about the cycle of violence and how vengeance and revenge is dangerous. hiccup says that the past is a ghost story, one we need to learn from to better ourselves. the books are about how everyone deserves freedom, how every creature, every being on the earth deserves to be free. we see that in the slavemark, with the dragons.

and like... hiccup is so different. they did him a severe injustice. he's scrawny and intelligent and learned to talk to dragons simply by observing them! he chooses kindness first above all else; instead of yelling at toothless to train him, he is kind. and in the end, that kindness is why toothless chose to save him. bc even toothless himself says that dragons are inherently selfish creatures who care only for their survival. hiccup is brave - his beliefs differ drastically from both the vikings and the world.

hiccup is a child who chose to do the right thing even at the expense of himself. he agreed to free the slaves on nobert's ship, and in return, they gave him the slavemark which is easy to give but cannot be removed. he was like twelve. and having the slavemark means he cannot be with his tribe or his family, it means he isn't considered a human being anymore. and he keeps it a secret for awhile until it's revealed and when it is everyone turns their backs on hiccup. his family, his tribe, his mentor, people he TRUSTED. everyone except fishlegs, and, once she got over the shock, camicazi. he was thirteen. and even when he lost his memories and was really injured, he persisted. he was told to go to tomorrow and to save the dragons and he did bc in his heart he knew it was right even though he didn't know who he was or how he got there.

and fishlegs,,, oh my god FISHLEGS!!! the did him SO DIRTY!!! fishlegs is hiccup's best friend, one of the main motivators for hiccup. he steals norbert's potato for the sake of fishlegs, he gives fishlegs his dragon and goes to retrieve another, he takes the blame for fishlegs. and fishlegs does the same for him. he takes the slavemark with pride. he refuses to turn. he gives hiccup his lobster claw necklace which is his most prized possession. he is brave for hiccup, he believes hiccup is alive. he fights for hiccup harder than anyone else ever has. he does not turn. his is loyal, has allergies, has asthma, has a squint and a limp, has glasses bc he's blind without them... and he's still a hero despite being a runt, despite everyone even the adults telling him he's hopeless, telling hiccup to leave him behind.

and they cut camicazi! i'm sorry, but astr*d is nothing compared to camicazi. camicazi is a tiny, feral child who can easily best hiccup, fishlegs, and pretty much anyone in a sword fight. she can bring a grown man to tears with her rudery and smack talk. she is recklessly brave and craves adventure and follows hiccup blindly bc she trusts him that much. she isn't in love with hiccup - in fact she doesn't care about romance and love. she gives up everything to help hiccup bc she has a strong sense of justice. she is the motivator, the cheerleader, she finds a positive in everything. she never gives up. literally never gives up. and that's one of the most inspiring things about her: she always has hope.

and toothless! god!!! toothless is *thought to be* a common or garden dragon. he is horrifically tiny, he is literally toothless, and is the biggest brat in the world. he will cause problems on purpose. he has a stutter, he's the most selfless selfish dragon around. he and hiccup can talk to each other. he masks his fear with singing and being annoying. his growth is remarkable. he starts off refusing to obey hiccup, doing the opposite of what he says, making life harder for literally everyone around him, and he's still somewhat like that. but he's also braver, more caring, more willing to make sacrifices for the sake of others. he's clever, which he needs to be to make up for his size and aggression. he protects hiccup with everything he has, therefore, he protects what hiccup cares about just as hard. he was the only dragon that didn't abandon the vikings in the first book bc he cared about hiccup.

and snotlout,,, god,,, i will never forgive the movies for butchering snotlout. hiccup's cousin, the bully character, the one who is horrifically jealous that hiccup's dad was born before his. the one who desperately wants to prove himself, to be worthy, to make people proud. and you hate him, you despise him. he betrays everyone many times bc of the nothing promised to him by alvin and his mom. he loses himself, turns his back on himself, all bc he wants to prove himself. all bc he wants to be better than hiccup. and hiccup still forgives him and gives him chances, sometimes out of pity, but also bc snotlout is his cousin. he can't just turn his back on him no matter how miserable snotlout made his life. and in the end, snotlout sacrifices himself for hiccup. he gives up his life for hiccup in one last attempt to set things right. his death and the events preceding it are one of my absolute favorite moments in the book. gives me chills. makes me cry.

that's the thing with the books - they're so realistic. there is no inherently happy ending where everything works out. the first book begins with "there were dragons when i was a boy", implying that they're gone now. the books show there are consequences to our actions. they enslaved the dragons, they fought against them during the dragon rebellion all bc alvin and his mom said to, and now they're gone bc a simple apology doesn't fix hundreds of years of enslavement. and the only way for the world to move forward was for the dragons to leave and heal on their own. and now they have to learn to live without them. and yeah i've heard the third movie ends like that but. it doesn't have the build up. it doesn't have "there were dragons when i was a boy". it doesn't have eleven books of development to back it up, to make it feel meaningful.

i know that the movies are really special to a lot of people. i know that, on their own, they're genuinely good movies. i can acknowledge that the soundtrack is amazing and the animation is beautiful. i just can't see past the way they butchered the world that i love, the world that i grew up with. i can't see past the way people yelled at me for saying i liked the books better, the way that people gave me weird looks when i showed them a picture of the original toothless, when i tell them that nightfuries aren't even a type of dragon. cressida cowell created hundreds of different dragons, and the movies couldn't even pick from that. i can't forgive the way that barely anyone knows there are books bc the movie barely gives credit to them. i cannot forgive the way they capitalized off the books and then shoved them aside. i know cressida thinks they're good movies and i know a lot of httyd book fans also like them. but i just... i cannot get over how much they changed and how they missed so much and ignored the books. also they got rid of camicazi so hiccup could have a love interest and that is unforgivable to me.

if you disagree, that is a-okay. we're all entitled to our own opinions. i just ask that you, perhaps, try the books out. give them a chance. bc they're amazing works of art and also just like. don't yell at people who don't like the movies? whether it's bc they prefer the books or just aren't into that kind of movie. and just remember that dreamworks didn't come up with the story; cressida cowell did.

[interstellerjay]

.

[britneyshakespeare]

barnes and noble has been raising the prices of everything and further pushing for their premium membership option (which they raised the price of by 60 percent this year!) and then when they have big sales events, they're less than what they used to be.

last year at this time you could get one of their leather-bound book annex tomes for $12.50 (without a member discount) because of the 50 percent off all hardcover sales. but they raised the price of those tomes from 25 bucks to 30, and they decreased the sale from 50 percent off all hardcovers to 1/3rd off. so that same book that was $12.50 at last year's end-of-year sale is now 20 bucks. and that's supposed to be savings enough to induce me to walk into one of their stores this week?

i'm sorry but b&n has just gotten so greedy, even though their business has only been doing better and better in previous years. they do not have to be raising prices like they have been, and they can damn well afford to have the same savings events they used to. if you went to one of those hardcover sales a year or two ago, even if you lived in a less populated area like i do, you had never seen a b&n so busy in your life. things were flying off the shelves. they WERE making bank.

and as a company they've only been growing and growing (as much as the publishing industry has been, in recent years). but there are so many other ways to buy books. CHEAPER ways to buy books. MORE SUSTAINABLE ways to buy books. and since books and booksellers are doing really well right now, i don't see why barnes and noble is getting so greedy when they don't have to be. i dont like new shiny books that much. people buy books for the content, ultimately. sometimes we as consumers might make the choice that a new shiny book is worth paying a bit more for, but not that much. barnes and noble has just been demanding more and more of their customers' money for less and less benefit.

[thyandrawrites]

Free matsuhana fic concept: the team places mistletoe everywhere in a sweet but misguided effort to get them together, not knowing that they've already been dating for months. They still go along with it, wondering how many heated make out sessions it will take for them to catch on, since the double dates with iwaoi (who actually aren't together yet) haven't been evidence enough

[mint-mumbles]

Gonna use this image any time someone says something low key sexist about Sable (ie "she's showing too much skin" regarding a fucking bathing suit 😭🤦)

I don't hear you complaining about Spirit 😭

[aeolianblues]

nvm, I called Ewan Mitchell the Lord of the Rings guy. He’s the Game of Thrones spin off guy. I am so bad at TV. I thought he was Legolas

[musicalmoritz]

I want to make it very clear that I do not have writers block, the only reason I haven’t finished that Aoinene fic yet is bcuz I’m lazy af. And because my sister keeps asking to hang out every time I sit down to work on it and I can’t break the sacred bond of sibling time🍎

[silverislander]

fully intended and foreseen consequence of coping better with my anxiety is that this blog will at some point inevitably become More Cringe and that point is SO close on the horizon. if you get mad at me for posting things i like on my blog that is for me you clearly have more issues than i do for worrying abt that possibility for hours on end