#bedridden doppelgängers

[asukiess]

once I took your medication to know what it's like.

[shadowfear-art]

Sooo, what exactly happened with the doppelgänger? I am dying of Curiosity

(Gonna be a bit wordy but here we go)

Well it starts with Ingo having dizzy spells during his travels, shrugs it off as being tired or needing to eat.

Him and Emmet obviously have times they have separate jobs so nothing had caught the fae's eye. Until he saw partial of Ingo's silhouette outside the station, granted he first thought he was mistaken but thats when Emmet would look back on as a clue.

Soon after Ingo became weaker and weaker, leaving him bedridden, which began to alarm Emmet.

Meanwhile Ingo's double has been busy trying to replace him even at one point fooling Emmet for a moment, however the fairy catches on quickly.

As time keeps passing the weaker Ingo became and thus upsetting Emmet more. Looking for answers he finds out who is this imposter and goes about tracking them down.

Eventually he traps his "brother" in the fog forest to have a little chat with him.

Ingo wakes up after feeling his own strength returning only to hear Emmet in the other room talking in a low drunk manner. Reciting the same words over and over.

"I'm sorry ... I couldn't resist... I'm so full... I'm sorry... "

Emmet is covered in the doppelgangers blood.

Ingo entering the room breaks Emmet from his twisted mantra, he was deeply disturbed.

At it's final moments the doppelganger never let up the act of being Ingo, even as the fae teared into them it continued to cry, scream, and beg as his brother would.

Causing Emmet to fear he had killed his real brother instead, unfortunately it didn't stop his now enraged hunger to continue.

However as soon as Emmet saw his real brother there were no doubts, just nothing could compare to the feeling of knowing the original.

A tearful embrace was expected.

[rejectclone]

New OC idea: another failed clone that’s Tomalgam in essence but separate from [R]. He could be called [C] for Censored because they couldn’t refer to both of them as “Redacted” without it getting confusing. Nice chance to explore how different personalities might react to extremely similar traumas, and to use the pieces of Tomalgam’s design that *didn’t* carry over to [R], or just give [R] someone to eventually relate to so you don’t have a “Ive been here this whole time” situation.

Fun Fact: I was considering to make a counter character to [R], but I scrapped the idea since I don’t want another counter character pair as I already have John and Mark as doppelgängers!

The original idea was that since when M[R] gets revealed to the public and it leads to the Evil Pharmaceutical Company being exposed for all of their illegal cloning crimes, M[R] finds out that not all of his ‘siblings’ from the same batch were killed after his accidental release (as a way for the company to hide it’s actions). He’s then brought in to basically comfort the surviving ones, but is dismayed to see almost all of them are essentially bedridden or literally brain-dead, and about less than 10 clones were as healthy and active as he is. One of them of course being what would’ve been his counterpart, [EXPUNGED]. As for his appearance I never really came up with something, but personality wise he’s akin to [R], but is MUCH more paranoid of others and seems to have a lot of deep seeded rage towards the scientists. Considering he was at the lab during the years [R] was outside, [E] remembers what ‘changed’ after that event and how the newer scientists that replaced Lawrence’s team were MUCH more colder and crueler to them, and that [E] is much more emotionally traumatized and spiteful towards others, as he assumes EVERYONE that’s naturally human will want to harm him in some sort of way. The dynamic between the two would eventually be M[R] trying to coax his ‘brother’ into being more willing to interact with ‘normal people’ and to show that the world isn’t that soulless, and [R] accidentally becoming a bit TOO overbearing in wanting [E] to be safe and happy, thus leading to a larger rift between the two.

[chiseler]

The Last Greatest Film Ever Made

These days, the reaction to a film overrides the work itself, which becomes a mere platform for individual audience members to broadcast sound bytes in symphony with popular opinion makers using a template checklist of current grievances. Quentin Tarantino’s latest (and last?) film was under fire for its subject matter (a mostly fictional retelling of the Manson murders) before it went into production, and has since taken several hits on multiple fronts from critics convinced that the director is concealing a fugitive agenda at odds with their prevailing group think imperatives. They are slinging wilted arrows at a master flame thrower.  

Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood not only defies any expectation of a Tarantino film, but defies gravity itself as a transcendent, multi-dimensional mind fuck that unravels in the opposite of ‘real time’ and re-directs consciousness itself. Tarantino’s slow burning comedy places a clear line of demarcation between people who derive genuine pleasure from art, and those who see it as a chance to 'call out' the artist for perceived crimes against a trending Twitter hashtag.  

They're outraged because Margot Robbie isn’t given pages of lines to ‘explain’ her character, but tasked instead with illuminating her from within. Up-and-coming screen Goddess Sharon Tate is mostly photographed from the neck up, demanding Robbie to act between the ears and replace dialogue with unadulterated sunshine. Tate is no ‘character’ but a once in a million year solar event.  

They are unanimously apoplectic that Bruce Lee isn't portrayed as a eunuch 'Oriental’ sage, but a drop dead sexy dancer, cynically playing up his ‘other’ mystique to a bunch of honkies.  It’s a risk, to be sure, but one that pays off as a clever plot device that gives lug nut stunt man Cliff Booth an entire backstory in a an unreliably narrated anecdote. Cliff’s decision to take down the diminutive star is the the catalyst event of his downward career spiral. Bruce Lee is later redeemed in Sharon’s memory as martial arts coach. We see him as a generous mentor, and all round good guy, far removed from the arrogant pontificator who gets body slammed into a Chevy by a second rate stuntman.  

They're pissed because Tarantino views women in fight scenes as adversaries who require the same strength to take down as their male counterparts. They ignore the fact that it’s a little girl who provides the intellectual impetus for Rick Dalton to give the only memorable screen performance of his life time. Nor do OUATIH’s social justice critics seem to notice Tarantino’s clearly marked line in the sand that prevents Cliff from accepting a blow job from an underaged hitchhiker on her way back to the Spahn ranch. Cliff’s refusal is grounded in ethics, even if he cites the unwanted risk of jail time as an excuse. If anything, Cliff is pained by the proposition. He is guided by the same unspoken principle when he makes a safety check on the ranch’s blind and bedridden owner, and later when he pulverizes a hippy with a monkey wrench. If Tarantino has a message to mankind, it’s “obliterate fascists completely” and “don’t fuck with women”.

Against all expectations, Tarantino doesn't offer up gratuitous Mansonette nudity, just a grubby mob of mean girl 'Sister Wives' cut from the same cloth as his #metoo detractors, and led by no other than Lena Dunham to add further insult to injurious identitarians.  

Once doomed to be perpetually remembered and eternally murdered, Tate's new life under Tarantino's direction is forever re-living the thrilling milestones of her own life, sidestepping fate and driving headlong into the Hollywood Hills. It’s hard to imagine a more principled premise than Tarantino’s take on the lurid legend of Helter Skelter and his rescue of Sharon Tate from the clutches of collective memory.  

The young actress is re-imagined in radiant spirit form; the briefly glanced apparition seen from ground level as Manson slithers by the house on Cielo Drive. That moment she steps out on to her own front porch to glimpse the departing caller, she is Eve in the garden of evil, momentarily aware of an unsettling presence in her midst. She gives the beady-eyed stranger a nervous little wave, the first and only indication that she is saying goodbye to the other-world idyll of her canyon home, and to life itself. Cliff's fate is similarly sealed when he makes an impromptu visit to the Spahn Ranch and incurs the wrath of its bloodthirsty inhabitants. Again, the camera is placed where a bottom crawler would lurk as Cliff shit kicks the Manson follower who has fucked with his car.  

Tarantino puts his mostly silent star behind the camera to capture eternity as a hologram playing out in amber. It's Sharon's own gaze capturing her giddiest moments as evidenced by her solo trip to the cinema to see, or rather 'experience' herself on film. Dead Sharon hovers over all the proceedings as her swooping camera eye looks down on LA. Her male doppelgänger, the more earth-bound Cliff Booth, shares the same view (and viewpoint) from the roof top next door to her where he is fixing a TV antennae.  

Still, there's evidence of an impending rupture that threatens the delicate membrane insulating Tate from her murderers as Mick Jagger sings "Baby, you're out of time" as she heads home towards the hills. The song is an ominous reminder of the gathering storm ahead. “My poor old fashioned baby. . . “ Tarantino's 'call out' critics seemed to have missed countless sign posts leading away from Cielo Drive to OUATIH's moral, other dimension center.

by Jennifer Matsui