#how to throw away a potential fresh storyline

[h50europe]

Tommy Kinard - post mortem

Minear thought of bringing Tommy back for FOUR episodes. He should have stuck to that plan. Because of the huge fanbase these two garnered since their first kiss, he hastily wrote Tommy into more episodes (it shows) and developed a shitty love story for them. Obviously, he did not know how to handle it because he saw himself forced to diverge from his original plan. His interviews about them were nothing but smoke and mirrors. Saying what fans want to hear to keep their hopes high. And we all fell for it. Since OS said he knew from early on in season 8 about the breakup or even earlier, it means, for Minear, he was done with them by the end of season 7.

Funny, wasn't that what the haters always said? That's why he wasn't included in Epi 1 - 3 because Minear stuck to his original plan, in which Tommy was long gone. More smoke and mirror interviews followed. Telling us bullshit like Tommy and Buck were a couple and thriving, well knowing he was done with them. And all the while, the haters knew about it. Fueled by hints of certain journalists. Call me a conspiracy theorist, but I don't believe in coincidence. A journalist usually gets the episode a few days ahead of its airing. And often, they don't get the final cut. And then one of them "guesses" the title for episode 8.06 and part of its content? Yeah, sure. To me, it almost looks like Minear is dropping hints anonymously.

He blindsided BT fans from the get-go. I wondered why they shot 8.06 BEFORE 8.05. Then we got the answer when he explained that 8.05 happened to give the breakup "more shock value." Bullshit! 8.06 was a zombie episode from start to finish, with the cut emergency from season 7 and a plot about a boy in a drain (also a repeat, only with his brother as the hero). The scenes around Buck/Tommy felt like someone tried to put a square into a hole. In hindsight, even Josh's Glee speech gets a shallow taste. Madney's pregnancy felt like an offer of reconciliation to the audience. Hey, look, we have a breakup, but someone's having a baby again, hooray!

As we know, the breakup was written horribly. Again, it shows nobody had a plan (square, hole).

Tommy reminds me of an unfinished sculpture. We know he longs to belong somewhere and is jealous of the family the 118 has become. We know his former Captain Gerrard reminds Tommy of his dad, but that's about it. This is another proof that Minear didn't lose a second thought about Tommy Kinard when he brought him back.

So everything he told us in his interviews was a blatant lie, which he formulated when he saw how the audience appreciated Tevan and their genuine chemistry. Nobody thought that they were taking off like they did. And because it doesn't fit in Minear's concept, they had to do the shitty breakup by retconning Tommy and giving him the even shittier exit.

Sending Buck on his baking spree and watching Tommy "bubbling" him is nothing more than to console the audience and give them a "feeling that Tommy is still around." The general audience isn't as informed as the fans are. They hardly ever read interviews or talk about the show like fans do.

This explains why the plots around "Brad" were fully developed and executed. Minear stuck to his original concept. For my taste, the focus on this character was over the top, and he was never much appreciated among the audience and fans.

I wonder if Minear is even considering bringing Tommy back. I've seldom seen such inconsistent writing about a relationship or a character. Instead of appreciating the welcome and integrating this character into the show, he was treated worse than any other of Buck's LI. What did Minear think when he brought a character back that was part of the show in season 2 and hooked him up with one of the mains? The way this "bi awakening" was handled is cringe-worthy. "I wanted to get Buck off the hamsterwheel" - only to throw him back in. This could have happened a lot less complicated by making Buck drunk and having sex with a random guy. Show him now "suffering" when Minear says he will find a new LI that isn't meant to last, translating into "I made Buck bi although I haven't thought it through and have absolutely no plan what to do next."

An idea would be to bring Tommy back, integrate him, and make him part of Buck's life. It worked with Tarlos.

Someone just told me something very true (and I am allowed to share it): His (Tommy Kinard) season 2 exit was perfect. He showed positive growth, made good friends who threw him a lovely farewell party, and then he went away to pursue his dream career. I know we didn't care about him that time the way we do now, but the stark contrast between the two exits breaks my heart even more.

On a side note, get a grip on Eddie's storyline. From what I know, a half-naked dance through your apartment never solved any problems or had a healing effect...

[flowers-of-io]

So me and my friend were talking about Savathun and I wanted to have your thoughts about something she said

She said that the problem that she has with Savathun’s character arc is the fact that she feels like it’s pointless for her to have a character arc because it will just end with Bungie saying "She was just evil "

She also said that she doesnt get why people are saying "Savathun was given a chance and still chose her old ways " ; for her it makes sense that Savathun chose her old ways because

1) She is wanted by everyone and she is seen, everyone will kill her on the spot so she needs to protect herself ; 2) Even if she tries to be better, people will still look her as bad (because she hurted a lot of people). Eramis has the support of Mithrax and her Family to be better but Savathun has no one and if she died, except her sister , people will not cry or be sorry , they will just say "Dont cry, the world is better without her " or something along those lines

So she said "if Savathun chose to stay bad, people in Destiny will hate her and if she tries to be good, people will still hate her so she chose the logical option "

Of course, she doesnt deny the suffering that Savathun has caused but she feels like her character arc will just end up with "Savathun appears-> gets developped -> does something so bad that everyone just wants her dead-> Savathun dies -> end with "Savathun was just bad"

Omg I somehow totally missed this message, I'm so sorry for however long it has been lying in my inbox ;o;

I... kinda agree. And I hate that I agree! Because TWQ ended with such potential for a strong redemption arc for Sav, and then Season of the Witch rolled in and went "Oh actually she's been killing her own Lightbearers as a hobby :)" and I don't understand anything anymore. Savathûn, the tactician, the smartass, who hand-picked the Ghosts who'd join her and eventually rez Hive, now running around and killing them for... what? To fuel her training crystals? While she's involved in active war on two different fronts??? Ma'am. I need explanations.

There's no doubt Savathûn is atrocious and has caused enough suffering in the world to balance out thousands upon thousands lifetimes of nothing but good deeds, but eugh. Some of the decisions this season seem to me like the writers were bending over backwards just to show how Evil!!!!! she is, with no rhyme or reason. Yeah sure, show her killing people in gruesome ways!!! Show her fucking with their minds like she did with Osiris and Uldren!!! When it's in character. When it makes sense. I don't really understand why they'd throw away AN ESTABLISHED DYNAMIC between her and Immaru only to show her being mean to her Ghost, so 'she can't be a real Guardian now, can she'.

In this manner, I agree and also fear a little that Sav's storyline is going to be nothing but a cautionary tale of someone being gifted the Light and a second chance and squandering this opportunity, remaining Evil forever. It would be such a waste and I would cry.

The reason for why she chose to stay in her own ways, or at least act like it (and I'm talking here mainly about the events of TWQ, because this season has been very... weird about it?? and I don't yet know where I stand wrt this new info) is in my opinion a bit more complicated. First off, if we're going by the canon timeline, she was a week-old kinderguardian thrown into a full-scale war on two fronts while having to kick Rhulk out, transmutate her throne world, manage a whole ass Brood full of other amnesiac baby Lights, and figure out what the hell her past self wanted her to do to stop the Witness. I can also imagine the Lucent Brood was very volatile in their philosophies and way of life, the Light clashing with the Sword Logic, and just overall, it must've been pure chaos, especially for someone who's fresh out of the grave and doesn't know what the fuck is going on.

Secondly, after she's got back her memories -- the old ways is everything she's ever known. I think the case of her snatching the Traveler is a great example. She says she "will not Take, [she] will give", and it's evident she's trying to wrap her head around the new philosophy, to reverse-engineer it from the spaces between the words on the Tablets of Ruin, but she's still oh so very Hive in it. She will give the Traveler an incentive, a safe haven -- and then she will seal it away to protect it. Disregarding anyone else and any other harm this act might entail. I truly believe she had the right intention! She wanted to protect her saviour and the source of her power from the being she hates most in the universe, who seeks only to hurt and destroy the Traveler and threatens Sav's own survival. The plan made sense. It's the execution that was so sword logic in nature, the sealing and the stealing and the general disregard for the Traveler's wishes and choices, and she paid the price in the end. She messed up royally. She was still stuck in the old ways she'd supposedly rejected.

I'm not sure, however, if the lack of outside support would be any factor here. She's always been a loner. Her way of keeping people at a distance is very similar to Mara's, she's always valued the wiggle room moving so far away gives her, she's always wanted to be free and untethered and to decide only for herself. I don't think she cares no one would cry for her if she died; her main goal is NOT to die, and that's the motivation behind most of her actions, rather than the fear of being alone. I think this is where they differ with Xivu. And yes, she is lonely--I see this particularly in her last entry in Sororicide where she says Xivu has given up on her, and in the fact of how thrilled she is to have Eris and Ikora and us the Guardian as puppets in her little theatre. Riddles are her love language and she's enjoying it tremendously.

To sum up, I suppose, these are the reasons I see behind Sav reverting to the sword logic in some extent, or at least not going Full Redemption after acquiring the Light:

her brood (particularly the Lightless Hive) still being ingrained in the Logic and pushing it a lot

Sav believing Sword Logic to be the more efficient tool and therefore still using it to achieve her goals - so both necessity as well as her own calculating personality

her own habits and a billion years' worth of conditioning she's reacquired when she got her memories back

her drive to stay alive and get out of the whole game (whatever we define it as), and potential fear of death

[hargrove-mayfields]

Autistic max? I’m all in -🦖

yes!! Max being on the spectrum is one of my favorite headcanons! Here’s a bit of my thoughts and hcs for you anon! <3

okay so first i wanna talk a little about where this hc came from! this idea was born in my head for a multitude of reasons, but the general summary is this:

-she misses a lot of social+emotional cues! she didn’t pick up on just how annoyed Mike was with her in the gym and kept pushing until El intervened, she didn’t detect any of Lucas’ panic or frustration when he was explaining the upside down to her until he touches her, and when el is jealous and just not interested in meeting her, she seems to be completely unfazed by that until she walks away. also every scene she has with Billy, he’s very shut off and she seems to be confused about what she’s expected to say, missing that he’s angry until he’s lashing out, and idk to me it just seems like she doesn’t really have a grasp on understanding others’ emotions!

-similarly, she only seems to react in the face of immediate danger, as if she’s a lot of the time unaware of how bad things truly are around her. like when she’s helping to find dart without even knowing what’s going on, driving a whole muscle car and going down into the tunnels without a hint of fear, seeming barely concerned when the mindflayer was about to drop through the ceiling. it’s almost like she has trouble fully processing the consequences of certain things, which could also explain why she sneaks out even though she probably knows what Neil is like and the fact that it could potentially put her in danger.

-the way she dresses just screams tactile sensitivity! she doesn’t ever wear anything flowy, any scratchy materials, and even at the snowball, where we see Susan fussing over her, she’s still dressed for comfort. what young girl with a mother clearly interested in making her pretty is going to get away with wearing jeans to a school dance if she doesn’t have sensory issues?

-also, whenever she gets upset she seems to shut down. like she almost never talks to Billy after he yells at her unless it’s necessary, when her and Lucas are talking on top of the bus it definitely seems like she’s struggling to voice her feelings or put words to her emotions, when Billy’s in the sauna, after he’s activated she starts turning in on herself, and after his death she’s just sitting in his room. like maybe she doesn’t really understand her own emotions that well either.

I’m not really viewing any of this as like, solid evidence or anything btw, these are just some things I’ve noticed about her as an autistic girl her age and living in a very similar situation that I think are neat and relatable!

onto the stuff I literally made up because I love her!

-Susan gives me autism mommy vibes. Like, making it her identity that she has a child with autism, and at times that can get super frustrating for Max because she hates being her mom’s little trophy daughter, gossiped about at all the potlucks so people feel sorry for her. Her absolute least favorite thing is “She’s such a handful.” and when Susan pulls the I’m so lonely because of taking care of you card to make her feel bad. Especially because she doesn’t feel very taken care of, once she’d hit a certain age her mother decided she’d be alright without all that “kid stuff” and basically tossed her into the world on her on. (hence why she’s Billys responsibility)

-In the 80s (and still now if we’re being entirely honest) it was very normal to just throw a casual r slur into conversation and it kills Max every time her friends say it, especially Mike because she thinks he’s being mean and doesn’t like her. She doesn’t know how to explain to them that that hurts her feelings because she doesn’t even know how to bring it up that she’s autistic. Billy tells her once to try to cheer her up that he could beat them up for her but she cries even harder because that’s what she doesn’t want, is for them to think she’s overreacting. He feels bad and tries to make up for it bringing it up with some of the moms of the group and asking that they tell their kids to stop using that word ever.

-In California she was in special ed classes, but Hawkins Middle deems that not necessary for someone of her “functioning level” (yuck) and she gets landed in coed instead. It might’ve been alright if that was how she started her education, but she was already used to classes of four or five kids like her, and she just cannot learn in that new environment. So she does really, really bad in school her first year in Hawkins. She feels kind of self conscious around her friends because they’re all so smart and her grades make her feel stupid even though it’s not her fault, and that’s why she kinda drifts towards being close with El because she struggles with learning things too.

-Smells are probably her worst overstimulation triggers. Things like cigarette smoke, fresh brewed coffee, her moms perfume, cooking and baking smells, the automatic air freshener thing, candles. Pretty much anything stronger than the smell of water is just overwhelming for her, especially if there’s something else already working her up, because then a whiff of something too strong can put her straight into a meltdown. Billy decides to quit smoking for her (he’ll never admit that, he’s adamant that it was because it was messing with his lung capacity and he’s trying to work out) and he also does things like buy Susan a new, less offensive perfume for her birthday and open windows to get stuffy air out of the house. They never really talk about what that does for her but like, that’s part of how they start getting closer, is when he starts making little accommodations for her like that.

-In addition to smells, there are very specific sounds she can’t stand. It’s not all loud noises, some of them like the rev of Billy’s car or a bass guitar at an outdoor amphitheater are some of her favorites, but the ones she doesn’t like, she really hates. Things like styrofoam, dishes hitting off of each other, something scratching against ice that builds up in the freezer, TV static, the toaster popping up or the oven beeping, and people who can’t chew with their mouths closed (looking at you Billy, keep that gum in your mouth please) all make her feel gross. She’ll try to physically shake off the way those sounds make her feel but sometimes they’re just too much and she shuts down for a while until she gets to hear something else. In that case usually really quiet music or someone talking to her quietly can reel her back in.

-Her interests vary a lot! The longest she’s ever held one special interest was a Miss Piggy phase! Susan liked that she was showing interest in a feminine character because of a lot of her si’s were tomboyish, but Max liked Piggy because she knew karate and punched people who laughed at her or tried to make her feel bad about herself! She has all sorts of Piggy collectibles, like toys, bed sheets, posters, books, mugs and watches! Otherwise her interests and fixations tend to come and go pretty quickly, like one week she could want to know everything there is to know about pro skaters, and the next she’s into the history of circuses! She liked cars for a little while and Billy was really excited to indulge in that and let her get familiar with the camaro, but she shifted to video games pretty soon after and he had to let it drop.

-Another interest that’s also pretty constant for her is nature! Not only for the sensory experience of it, listening to leaves rustle and birds chirp and water rush, but also all the knowledge about it. She can identify any type of flower, grass, tree, critter, or fungus! When she’s melting down and needs to be away from the house, she asks Billy to take her to the state park so she can just sit and be quiet and calm down on a fallen tree or a swing set somewhere. They do have some woods behind their house but she’s too afraid to venture out there and prefers to be out with her brother anyways.

-Stims! She’ll fiddle with zippers and buttons and loose threads constantly to the point that they buy her three or four of the same jackets and shirts for when she inevitably breaks them. She also chews on sleeves and hoodie strings a lot. Other tactile stims she favors are string tricks and braiding and tieing knots! Braiding her and Billy’s hair is something she’ll do anytime she needs to feel grounded, and she has a whole bunch of those little wooden boards that kids use to learn how to tie their shoes to tie knots with. She also always has a pocketful of yarn, and her favorite thing to make with them is a spider web or a star!

-Sort of related to her fascination with string is that her shoelaces never ever match, she has like a whole drawer in her room full of different ones to change them out! (and she has Miss Piggy Bow Biters to put on them!)

-She’s also a very verbal stimmer at times! Giggles for days with Max, if she’s excited, happy, nervous, whatever, she’s giggling. Humming and mimicking too, like if she hears a sound she likes she’ll try to make it, whether it be part of a song or something she hears outside. But if she is sad she’ll get as quiet as a mouse.

Idk these are just like my sort of canon compliant hcs I guess? Like what I feel would be true for her in the timeline and storyline of the show!

[sodone-withlife]

many faces

here’s something that has been in the works for a few weeks that I finally got myself to finish today. I was watching some edits on YouTube (as one does) and since Aaron Hotchner lives in my head rent-free, a line about death really just hit me, so here you go: almost 4k words about Hotch and Death

All credit to the writers of GoT for the quotes (even though they seriously fucked up season 8), and the last few lines in the blurb are very inspired by Arya Stark’s storyline in GoT seasons 5 and 6. Hope you all enjoy!

warning: canonical character death

word count: 3.7k words

There is only one god, and his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: not today.

- Syrio Forel (Game of Thrones s1e6)

He entered the world in the dead of night towards the start of winter, after the mother spent over twenty hours in labor. The father, passed out after too many drinks, was woken in time to hear the ear-splitting cry of the newborn. Faced with the dark eyes and dark hair that was so like his own, he could only turn away, hating the newborn’s innocence with a burning passion.

When the father gave closing statements only hours later that day, exhaustion overtook him. And so, the mother locked herself and the newborn in the nursery in fear of the vengeful phantom that alcohol made of the man who vowed to love and to cherish the woman.

Thus the next years were spent like this, the mother locking the door to the toddler’s room, reading story after story and waiting out the phantom. The innocence of youth was the only barrier protecting the toddler, one which dissipated the moment he turned four.

Their first dance was when he was eight and had collapsed in class after having spent hours struggling to breathe through the cracked ribs and move through the concussion that had been gifted to him by his father. When he woke up in the hospital, it was to the sight of both of his parents watching over him worriedly, but one’s expression was too vacant, and the other was hiding a familiar rage.

That wasn’t the last time his father put him in the hospital. It was easy to write off—who wouldn’t believe the only lawyer in town, who had done so much for his community?

Those that didn’t believe kept their mouth shut for fear of their reputation being sullied.

The little brother, young as he was, had no idea the power that he possessed. Ever since his birth, the mother’s skin remained unblemished and free from the bruising that was often there before, when she only had one child.

It was easy to play to the reputation the town had given the eldest. Silent and cold, stealing the joy out of everyone near him just as the dark of the Winter steals the light of the Summer, just as the father stole pieces of his being with every blow and every hospital visit.

He had already danced with Death many times before in his short life thus far, but now they were here to take his father away. He stood at the gravestone a few days later with a bottle of vodka he knew his father had hidden amongst his desk drawers. Now the eldest male in the household, the responsibility fell on his back and dragged him down into the depths of vodka and glass shards.

His Spring found him lying there, passed out with cuts on his arms as his mind was elsewhere, dancing with Death. She was relieved to see that they weren’t deep, and so she called her sister to help her bring him back to their house.

When he woke up with a pounding headache and throbbing arms, he saw the relief of his Spring. As she spent time with him in the days after Death took his father and reminded him of the light in the world with each dark secret he confessed, he fell in love all over again, just as the Spring coaxes the Winter into the light.

Later, he would think of the mottled red that had stained his father’s face and the unpleasantly warm, alcohol-tainted breath that washed over him as he stood in front of the wild, untamed man and took the abuse that was sent towards him as he was blamed for the man’s failures. He would think of the wide-eyed joy that his little brother explored the world with and his mother’s skin that had remained unblemished since his little brother came into the world.

He wouldn’t be touching vodka ever again.

He spent more time at her house, no matter how out of place he always felt amidst a family that was so close and open to each other, and slowly, his Spring taught him about the light of life.

They were lessons he strove to keep in the forefront of his mind in college and law school, even as he stared cheap alcohol and razor blades in the face with shaking hands. He went dancing with Death once, early in college, but he remembered her fear and worry despite the throbbing pain he felt.

He was dumping the alcohol down the drain as soon as he could and making it a habit to put his razors out of sight. He made sure she never found out about that one.

It was freeing to be in college and law school—Death did not reach him there. But soon he was graduating with a Juris Doctor degree and throwing himself into prosecuting crimes with a vengeance.

His father had once walked the same halls he was walking, and that was something he was reminded of each time he was addressed by his—his father’s—last name. Death walked in with each case, a silent spectator as he worked long hours to get offenders put away, to get justice for the victims who were sent into Death’s waiting arms far too early in life.

But it wasn’t always that easy. He knew that going in, but it didn’t take away that terrible feeling as he watched a jury buy into the misogynistic song and dance the defense put up in a rape case. As the defense uncovered some shady investigation on the police’s part and managed to get the whole case thrown out. As he watched a young man get sentenced for killing his abusive parents. As he watched an older brother get sentenced for assaulting a police officer that had assaulted his younger sister while that same police officer walked free with only his badge stripped and a year of house arrest.

Death walked the halls with him, with each case that he tried and with each new victim whose name and face he kept in the forefront of his mind. Young as he was, he was already one of the more jaded prosecutors in the office, His work ethic earned him numerous nicknames, and talk flew around about him potentially becoming the youngest district attorney in the county.

But the children…

The final straw came and went. Eight months after a serial pedophile walked free, with four years of prosecution under his belt and talk about him becoming DA, the youngest in county history—he threw it away and started over at the Academy.

A fresh start. He loved Virginia, but he fell in more love with the Pacific Northwest. The cool weather, the beauty of the temperate rainforests, and the scenic coastline were so different compared to the ghosts that haunted him back east. His and Haley’s first anniversary was a memory he would cherish forever; the picture never left his wallet

Two years of trying to solve cases before they got as bad as they were when they came across his desk in the prosecutor’s office and being part-time in the local field office SWAT unit hadn’t snuffed out the strange love he had for the region. Though he was more often calling Death to him to sweep the offenders he was hunting away, he did come close to dancing with Death a few more times—he was quite good at close quarters, but his true specialty was distance.

It was oddly comforting, though, to know that even as changes continued to happen, some things remained the same.

Only a week after his superior gave him a heads up about potential recruitment to the tactical team out in Quantico, he met David Rossi in San Francisco on a five-year-old cold case. He didn’t miss the look of surprise that appeared on the older agent’s face in reaction to his theory about the killer.

He had heard of the BAU and had listened to some of their lectures at the Academy about profiling—the confusion he felt at hearing about the years of training members of the team went through was reignited when Rossi started waxing poetic about an instinctual ability weeks later when they were at a bar after the case was declared cold.

That theory he had presented when he first met Rossi didn’t feel like an instinctual gift, and he said as much to the other agent.  Nevertheless, he and Haley were back in Virginia just months later—she was teaching at a local high school and he was the newest member of the BAU.

And so he danced, and he learned of the many faces Death had. He danced as Gideon started grooming him for leadership weeks after Rossi retired. He danced as Morgan brought his unending stubbornness and heart of gold. He danced as JJ and Garcia brought reminders of the light that was still in the world. He danced as Reid brought his own brand of uniqueness and painful reminders of his young age.

He danced with Death, who he could see peeking out from the eyes of the unsubs he and the team ended up facing off with. He danced more than he ever had, but his Spring kept him from falling into Death’s waiting arms. His Spring and the prospect of binging a child into the world together kept him going as Adrian Bale took out six agents with one bomb, sent him to the hospital for shrapnel wounds, and sent Gideon into a post-traumatic tailspin.

It was fine in the beginning; the expectation the Gideon would be returning made the long hours bearable. Six months passed, and he came back, but he didn’t return to leadership. Whispers that trickled down from up high made it clear that this designation was permanent.

They both thought they could make it work. Their child came into the world just days after he wove his web around Death and stared them down through a sniper rifle. He took a month off, and came back to face Death once more—only they were wearing the face of a man who killed multiple families.

He came close to another dance when Death wore a face that was nearly identical to his own—all that was different was their walks of life. He opened up more directly to Vincent Perotta than to anyone else that was currently on the team; Gideon could only profile, and he only explicitly told Rossi and his Spring about what his home life had been like.

Life went on, though with how often he danced with Death, it couldn’t really be considered living.

He danced, and he watched.

He watched as Elle danced with Death for the first time and was permanently changed because of his inaction.

He watched as Reid danced with Death for the first time and nearly fell into their arms because of his inaction.

He watched as Death taunted Gideon again and again until the man finally left to search for the fire that had been stolen from within him.

He watched, and he danced

He watched as his Winter darkness slowly crept towards Spring and their child, as his darkness became so oppressive that Haley finally left when he couldn’t stop himself from running to dance with Death. And when the light of Spring (not his, not anymore, she never was—) left, his darkness took over.

He watched as Death claimed Kate in an explosion of fire and debris and whirling him along in the quickest of dances, and he couldn’t help but envision his Spring in her position. He wasn’t blind, he knew how similar the two women looked, he knew what the team whispered behind his back, but it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was the phone call he was going to have to make to Haley, who had gotten along so well with Kate but now had to face the reality of her death.

Colorado was a new hell for him, as he felt Death’s oppressive presence all over the compound that trapped two of his agents inside. When the buildings were engulfed in flames and debris, he could only sigh in relief that Death didn’t see fit to take his agents today.

When he met Death once more, they were speaking through Megan Kane. Hearing the confidence the young woman had in him, feeling the exhausted resignation she felt at her impending death…

The press got the tip just days after the SIM card was examined by the lab.

Death waits for nobody, however, and his ten-year-old demon woke up to shove onto him more responsibility and more guilt as ten people were found shot to death on the bus in Boston.

He had gotten the profile so right but still so wrong, and Death laughed in his face.

Death laughed as he was stabbed nine times and was in their clutches for thirty minutes before the doctors managed to shake him loose from their arms. They danced and they danced, and Death laughed as he found the bloody picture of Spring and the child.

And he found that he couldn’t wait to see the face Death chose to wear one more time if only to show him just how angry he was, how deeply he felt despite the mask that he put up. His team had no idea how close he was to the edge, and he didn’t let them see the depths of madness he had fallen into.

Even over twenty years out of college and he was still compulsively hiding his razors, but now he couldn’t be more glad but also more hateful for the habit.

But Death gives no respite, and nine months to the day Spring went into hiding with the child, he found himself unraveling quicker than he ever had as he was forced to listen as Spring was stolen from the world.

When the team finally got to the old house, they watched as the tenuous control he held over himself was ripped straight out of his grasp in a bloodthirsty, grief-stricken rage. His hands didn’t feel like his own, and he couldn’t place Jack into JJ’s care fast enough for fear that the hands of a killer would destroy the last precious light in his darkness.

Those same hands felt the unnatural cold that was already setting in on Spring, and his mind froze.

Should he have stopped dancing?

Could he have stopped dancing?

Would it have done anything?

Would it have saved her?

He lived only to make sure Spring lived on in their son. He couldn’t give up chasing Death, but he made sure to keep his son at the forefront of his mind, and if that meant staying behind and coordinating and the precinct, that was fine. It was a change that would have been asked of him when JJ was plucked from the team by the Pentagon, but with the whispered he’s been hearing in meetings, he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking straight into Death’s waiting arms.

There wasn’t any time to worry, however, nor was there time to marvel at the fact that he had made it this far after Spring was ripped from his weak grasp, as he soon had to send Emily away and pretend that she had been claimed by the being he was so familiar with. Barely over a year, and three women who had changed his life so drastically were all ripped from his desperate grip, and his team was barely keeping it together.

It was no longer a dance, but a chase. He chased Death, almost as if his efforts would somehow bring them back and fix everything. He closed himself off and kept chasing because otherwise he would crash and burn and take everything around him down with him.

He kept chasing, all the way to Pakistan and all the way back to face the wall of anger and betrayal that he knew was justified. He kept on going, as Beth came into his life and as Emily left to find her own equilibrium. He didn’t stop, not even when Maeve Donovan was murdered in a manner eerily similar to his own unraveling years ago, not even when he spoke to Sean for the first time in years only to lose him to the criminal justice system, but just weeks later he was given the option once more: he could fight the futile fight, or he could stop and protect his team from afar, standing guard just as he’s done for so many years now.

There was a brief moment that he wondered if he should have taken the section chief job, but just minutes later he was feeling the world tilt as his legs gave out from under him and he collapsed on the floor of the conference room, the pain in his abdomen that had been slowly burning for the past few days turning into a roaring fire that threatened to consume him from the inside out.

And how could he describe the tumultuous feelings of utter joy and desolate grief he felt when he saw Haley sitting in that dress she had worn on their first anniversary in the Pacific Northwest, the dress she wore in the picture that remained in his wallet for nearly twenty years? How could he describe the utter terror he felt when Foyet crashed their time together and shot her once again, or the renewed grief when he realized this would be the last vivid memory he would have of the Spring who had taught his Winter about the light?

But he woke up with the lingering feel of Haley’s lips on his own to see Garcia and her always brightly-colored clothing that matched her ever-optimistic outlook on life that was often a blessed reprieve from the evil that consumed their jobs, and he remembered why he stayed.

Not only to chase Death, but for the family he realized he had found along the way.

But just as life must go on, Death must as well.

Soon he was calling in favors while learning about the horror JJ had gone through during her stint with Pentagon. Soon his paranoia was reignited as he and the team tried to figure out just how deep the corruption went in that police force all the while Reid was hospitalized with a neck wound. Even as he was reminded of the dangers of the chase when he drove to his old mentor’s cabin in the middle of the night, he kept chasing, because, for all that he knew he had a family in the team, he knew it wouldn’t last.

It couldn’t last.

It was a truth he was all too intimately familiar with.

So he chased, and he chased, and he chased.

And Death laughed and taunted him, throwing him into a mental tailspin through Peter Lewis.

Perhaps that was the moment when he finally lost himself: sitting against the desk, paralyzed as his family was murdered in front of him.

Or maybe it was when he forced himself to play along to Lewis’s sick fantasy and pretend that he was going to shoot at his team.

Was it pretend, though?

Nothing felt real after that—one moment he was grounded in reality and the next he was hearing that awful growling noise right behind him and seeing that terrible Glasgow smile as the hairs on his neck stood up. But, as always, he never let the team know just how far he’s fallen, and he kept going and protecting and chasing with the whole of his being.

He threw himself into work with a vengeance when Garcia was being targeted by the darknet hit group and when Morgan and Savannah were being threatened by the vindictive Montolo Sr, knowing all too well what was at stake.

When Morgan told him about his intent to leave the bureau, he could only feel relief that Morgan wouldn’t fall down the path he himself chose to go down all those years ago, when he first realized he could never stop dancing with Death. He told him as such in that hospital room, and the two exchanged a look, one that was borne from years of respect and kinship that had formed between the two as a result of an understanding only two profoundly hurt yet fiercely protective beings could have.

But life goes on, the moment broke, and he went back to chasing, only to be stopped right in his tracks by Death once again when Metro SWAT stormed his apartment and arrested him at gunpoint right in front of his son. Now, Death wore the faces of all of those who swore revenge against him and tried to break his will.

They very early succeeded, too—it was the closest he felt to unraveling since that terrible day seven years ago, but he knew he couldn’t without taking the whole team down with him. He couldn’t let the seams burst open.

Not yet.

Not until he found out Peter Lewis escaped.

Not until he found out Peter Lewis was baiting his team while working to fulfill a vendetta against him.

Not until he found out the Peter Lewis had watched Jack at one of his soccer games, and not until he found out that Peter Lewis had stalked Jack to his school.

So he planned, he made calls, and he wrote letters to the team and his family.

One night, Aaron Hotchner left those letters on his office desk alongside his resignation letter and credentials, the one thing that truly defined him for nearly twenty years.

Without it, he was no one.

One night, after tucking his son into bed, no one slipped out of his apartment with both of his service weapons and a sparsely packed bag and disappeared into the night, one goal in mind.

Hunt.

I know death. He’s got many faces. I look forward to seeing this one.

- Arya Stark (Game of Thrones s8e2)

[maniacalmagician]

EVERHOOD: Pinocchio in Psychedelic Purgatory: the Rock Opera Adventure. OR: I walked backwards into hell, and felt euphoria as I became privvy to the Divine Truths

Hello tumblr people. I’ve been Away. I played a game recently and I wanted to talk about it.   damnit i really wanted to put pictures into this mini essay. ive been away from this garbage site for too long, i dont know how to do it lol.  ok anyway    First, I want to say to the developers and anyone else that this has quickly become one of my all time favorite games. Currently writing I have personally never felt a greater emotional attachment to an experience with a piece of software. Perhaps it is the extreme idiosyncratic nature of it, perhaps it is the deeply intriguing storyline, mostly however it is a combination of those in addition to some of the most outstanding psychedelic visuals I have ever seen, particularly in the finale sequence, and a killer soundtrack that combines many genres but focuses mostly to being as bangers as possible. I will be upfront and say this game comes with a boatload of trigger warnings, and thus the aforementioned idiosyncratic nature of it may not appeal to everyone, however I feel it necessary to indicate potential content warnings here as I would hate for people to be triggered: epilepsy is the big one, I myself have mild stutter based epilepsy and it didn't cause health problems or anything but my case is not universal. Anyway. That is a hard warning on epilepsy. I do it because The Incredibles 2 did not, lmao (that's an example of the kind of visuals that trigger me personally. An aside ) Other things include (spoilers): arachnophobia, misophonia (screeches, unsettling sounds), themes of death, immortality, suicide. Some game mechanics are not immediately intuitive and puzzles require some pretty clever but sometimes obtuse solutions. Direction is not always super clear either. People have complained of performance issues but I am leaving this review after playing the switch port, which played smoothly other than some awkwardly long loading times here and there. What I have played of PC so far runs smooth but as of writing, performance for me was fine (my pc is a lowend budget build). There is a difficulty to it. Even playing on easier modes, it can be quite unforgiving. If you're a fan of hard games (I am but I suck at them) and rhythm games (this is, uh, Not? That? Almost functions as half walking sim, half rhythm Game, dodgy shoot em up kinda feels. Truly unique gameplay I think. Constantly switches things up, too. But yes I also adore rhythm games, and yes i also do suck at those too.), half of it is that. The devs troll you with puzzles. It's truly a wild experience as it advertises, one of a kind. And yet, however.... This game wears, much like its heart,, its references, on its sleeve. If you are not into that kind of thing, you will probably be annoyed by this game. It also loves to delv into meta, as many puzzles and interactions are references to the UI of the game itself. Personally, I'm not wild about meta but I appreciate the ernestness here, so I'm willing to roll with whatever this game throws at me because every turn feels unexpected, fresh, funky, somber, and wildly intelligent, with boldly sincere ludonarrative choices, script and art direction. If you like Geno from super Mario Brothers, which, guess what, narrator here LOVES Geno from Super Mario Brothers, this is functionally the game you've always wanted that Nintendo could never make because Square has held Geno hostage in some kind of underground torture facility since 1995. Turns out they were rather right to do so, because when that puppet is out serving a higher authroity, he can be quite dangerous. Narrarively it borrows much from its sources but I would argue there's proof the writers have spent time thinking about the implications of their source materials worlds, and that reflection casts itself back to create this, experience that is wholly unique even if we know Red is Geno and "Gaster" (who was based on Uboa from Yume Nikki or princess mononokes forest spirits), and some kind of disco Marceline character who changes their identity frequently, skeleton brothers- well undead brothers, really - We have to remember in the creation and consumption of media sometimes, influences and archetypes are ever present and Everhood almost itself is a realm that would indulge in the idea of self referential material. It makes for this very Jungian experience of friendly archetypes we're familiar with, which works well with this setting of an immortal realm. Thats not to say the personalities we do meet aren't expounded upon - they are, heavily, and become uniquely their own. (Spoiler) if my theory is to be believed this world is a purgatory where people have made their own artificial vessels and as time has made them bored (though some seem to be having a good time) while typical strains of the Pinocchio myth are thrown in about questions of identity and death - and probably even more so towards Timothy Learys concept of the Ego Death, or the return to the collective soup of unconcious being. Undertale will probably always be a reccomendation even by its own reference to it so comparisons to it will be littered through here. It feels like the developers were emboldened by Toby Foxs spirit in game development (his creative energy is rather infectious) and shared many similar ideas, but this feels far more aimed towards a maturer audience (references to the things I mentioned in the trigger warning list) and focused on achieving this feeling that its predecesors have as well. Yume nikki. Lisa. Earthbound. Toby's games. super Mario rpg in its humor, Cat Soup in its psychedellic depressive vibes, all this cool indie cult classicy kinda mash up soup.  bizarre antics and then these characters who have surprising depth the further you go. It has been 6 years since Undertale came out, and the developers for Everhood have called a lot of the "what ifs" that fans of that game ask, an answer in their own game. (What if No Mercy was forced, for example? What if going against destiny is the wrong thing to do? Why is Death such a Bad Thing? etc!) And the further along you progress, the smarter the story gets, the more complex the narrative threads and characters. This game knows how to write compelling literature and that wasn't an element I expecting but god am I so glad for it. Literally my pea brain saw Red's design flipping around some frets on a streamers videocapture (shoutout to based fellow tampa native Charles White, thank you for being witty and having good taste and your Floridian comisery.) one night and went "oh i like." But the experience I got in exchange was, so, so much more than that (but the tetris effect won't let that image disappear from my eyelids quite yet haha.) I hear there are multiple endings and one requires a 3 hour long trek. I'm not done with the game at the time of reviewing. You bet your sweet ass I am going to find out the Ultimate Truth. I found a way to deal with some of the bullshit in other games, I may not be great at games but I want to see whatever imagery these guys put on screen so it compels me to seek out all the alternative routes. I am going to be following these developers projects very closely. If this is their debut, their next project will be ... ... I would hate to force expectations, like if you just made a magnum opus like this it'd be perfectly alright to retire, but I just once again want to say thank you to the developers for putting your heart on display for the world to see. I see it. I have dealt with struggles similar to the ones in the stories this game articulates about anxiety and depression, existentialism and dread, dissociation and all the heavy themes that were risky to include narratively - I'm certaintly glad you took the risks you did. May update this review as I get further along the story but yeah. Tl;dr: haha pinocchio myth done well make brain go brrr. 9.99999999999998/10. I am taking an infitisimal fraction of a point off because of the ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ spider in the monster maze. that thing was abhorrent, but I won't let it deter anyone else who wants to play.

[oyesmendes]

wildflower - calum hood

a/n: i’ve had this storyline sitting in the works for days soooooo.... its gonna be a couple of parts so lets see where this takes us ya? full of dialogue and unnecessary descriptions. 

summary: after a nasty breakup, Karla Rivera finds herself working as one of the new producers/songwriter for 5SOS. She had no intention to fall in love right now, but one conversation struck a chord with her. In between producing a smashing album and writing hit singles, Karla finds herself entangled in the arms of a man who she never thought she’d end up with.

“Alright boys, as much as I love working with you guys, I think it’s time I bring in someone new.” Andrew says as he shuffles around the kitchen of the Malibu beach house. The boys had rented this place out for a month to work on their new album, as well as to take a short break from tour. They had only arrived yesterday, but things were already starting to bloom and they had a few songs on their hand they thought would fit the album.

“What do you mean? Are you leaving us?” Luke sat up in his seat. All the boys were sprawled in different corners of the kitchen, munching on their breakfast before the day of writing began.

“I’m not leaving, just bringing someone new in.”

“Who? And why do we need someone new?” Andrew could only roll his eyes at the question, downing the last bit of his coffee before throwing it into the sink.

“You’ll know her when she gets here. She’s talented, and I think she could provide something fresh.” He looks at the time on his phone, “She should be here soon, just play nice”

The boys all gave each other looks. They haven’t really stepped out of their circle of people when it came to music, so working with someone new and not to mention a female songwriter, could really give them a whole new perspective on things.

Karla finds herself sitting in the car for way too long. She was parked outside a gorgeous beach house on the quiet side of Malibu and she was dressed in an old concert T-shirt she had stolen from her brother, along with a pair of shorts and sneakers. She takes three deep breaths and gives herself a small pep talk before climbing out of her car. This is your job she reminds herself, it’s something you love to do.

When Karla first received the phone call from Andrew, she was reluctant to move even an inch off the bed in the guest bedroom of her brother’s apartment. All she wanted to do was shove down another pint of ice cream and watch old re-runs of Real Housewives. She knew her brother was the culprit behind the phone call, filling Andrew in about her breakup with her boyfriend of three years. Andrew had blown up her phone afterwards, calling Karla every single day until she finally agreed to come write with him for a week. Though it was a good intention, trying to get Karla out of the house, Andrew knew it was also her prime time. The overwhelming emotions she felt more often than not would be translated into the most beautiful words, and she would produce sounds unheard of. So here she was, standing in front of the door of the house. She had her water bottle and duffel in hand, notebook, phone and iPad in the other. The white door swings open, and Andrew pulled her into his arms immediately,

“There you are!” She returns the hug, a genuine smile on her face after finally him in the flesh. Andrews pulls away, hands clasped to her upper arm and he takes a good look at her. Karla thanks god for the Benefit concealer she’s slathered under her eyes or she’d be getting an earful from him. He grins at her and pulls her into the house, down the hallway to the living room where she spots the four boys with their heads buried in some form of instrument or notebook. They don’t take notice of their presence at first until Andrew clears his throat, and the boys look up at him.

“Boys, this is Karla Rivera, she’ll be working with us for the week!” Andrew says a little too enthusiastically. Karla gives them a small wave, and she notices the look that the boys give each other. They were unsure of her that was for sure, having not met her before. Ashton stood up first, Karla reaching her hand out but the boy pulled her into a single arm hug. She laughed when she was caught off guard by him, which set the boys smiling as well. Calum, Michael and Luke followed after, and they were settled down at the couch so they could show her what they had been working on.

-

“This is good… maybe we can add a bum bum bum.” She hummed a tune the boys had never heard before, and Andrew scrambled to play it on his guitar.

“And then for the lyrics maybe we could do - killin’ me slow with the words you wrote, the heart you broke…” Karla paused to scribble words onto her notebook before singing out, “calling my name, I don’t wanna stay but I’m wide awake, I’m wide awake.” Everyone in the room was in shock at how naturally the words flowed for her, this being the second song that was almost done and definitely had potential in being on the album. There was a lot of humming and words being muttered under their breath, until Calum shot up from his chair.

“How about - just one more taste of you my love. Then we repeat the first two lines? This could be the chorus!” Luke was already by the piano, playing out the melody and singing to the lyrics they had just written down.

“Thin white lies”

“What was that, K?”

“Add the line of thin white lies after that line that Calum just said, have someone sing it in the background or something.” Andrew looked to the boys who followed suit, their eyes widening when they heard themselves perform it. Karla had a wide grin on her face when she heard it unfold, her eyes meeting Calum’s who looked equally as satisfied. They still had a long way to go with empty verses that needed to be filled, but this was a small victory worth celebrating.

“Holy shit.” Ashton mumbled after hearing the small part.

“I told you she was good.”

“Didn’t tell me she was that good.” Andrew smirked at him before working to compile all the components of the chorus together. After the chorus came together, everything else in the song fell into place easily. All four boys worked on the lyrics with Karla, who made the words fall out of their mouths. They had almost the entire song written from top to bottom, the melodies and layering all in place, and they were just missing a bridge and outro.

“We could just stray away from the conventional structure” Michael suggested, but Ashton shook his head.

“No, it feels like something is missing.”

“How about…” Karla had her head in her notebook, flipping through the worn out pages of it. She often dug through the words she had written before but never used, and they would often be essential in a situation like this. Her finger ran across the page that was filled with her scrawly handwriting just a week after her breakup, and that’s when she found the exact words.

“I don't think I like me anymore. Can someone tell me who I was before? We can repeat this twice, I think it fits.” Calum writes it down on the paper that they had the lyrics on, and Luke proceeds to sing it out. Those words definitely fit. They all cheer, high-fives thrown among each other. Karla smiles softly, celebrating with the boys. They take a fifteen minute break for Andrew to record everything down, and Karla took this chance to step outside on the balcony. This was her favourite kind of view - watching the sea crash into the sand, the sun shining above the horizon and a few people laying on the beach having a good time. She thinks about all the time she’s spent at the beach in her three year relationship. How they’d spend every important date in their lives celebrating in the salty water, getting sand so far up their ass they’d shit sandcastles for days. She laughs to herself then shakes her head out of those thoughts. It’s been a whole month since that faithful day, she’s got to get over it. Just as she was about to go back inside, Calum startles her with his voice and she jumps.

“Jeezus, you couldn’t be any stealthier huh.” He chuckles, and Karla notices how his eyes crinkle.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She gives him her middle finger, and he stands next to her, admiring the view as well.

“What you did in there, those words were really cool y’know?”

“Thank you.” She says shyly. It’s been nearly five years since she started working as a songwriter, and she still couldn’t handle compliments well.

“Those words came from somewhere?” Karla knew where this conversation was going, but she wasn’t ready for it yet. She nods to Calum, then shrugs her shoulders. He understands and doesn’t push the boundaries.

-

They worked on a couple more songs before they called it a day. The boys had all agreed that Karla brought something different to the table, and pushed them to a whole new level they never knew existed. The lyrics were definitely more vulnerable and honest, and they were enjoying every single moment of it. Food and beer was strewn all over the table, the boys chatting about the next leg of the tour and what not. Karla was the first to notice that Calum wasn’t in the room with them, and she looks around only to find him on the balcony, a cigarette in his hand.

“You know, one too many of those and you could die.” It was his turn to jump, and Karla smiles at him when he dramatically raises his hand to his chest.

“I’d die of a cardiac arrest first.” She playfully shoves him, then moves to take her place on the outdoor sofa. Calum joins her and the pair stay quiet for awhile, just watching as the waves crashed harder on the sand.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Karla hums in response, her eyes closed as a cool breeze passes by. Calum places his hand on her knee, squeezing it slightly to get her attention. Her eyes flutter open and she looks at him, brown eyes and all, just staring at her.

“It just reminds me of my ex.” She sighs, leaning her head back on the chair.

“What does? The ocean?”

“That, and everything else. It’s like I wake up and all I can think about is how awful I feel without him by my side.” His heart scrunches up at her words. He’s finding the right response to her statement, racking his brain for the exact words. But is there a correct response to such a statement? Her voice gets him out of his head, and he’s listening intently again.

“He cheated y’know? I wasn’t in town and he fucking cheated. Had sex with a girl on our bed.”

“A fucker.” Calum seethes. He hears her chuckle and it confuses him for a moment before she speaks up, “that’s an understatement.” Karla leans on his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She felt a sense of relief admitting this to someone other than her brother or her best friend. And it felt good to finally get her emotions out on to paper and into a song.

Calum felt his heart race at a dangerous speed when her head came into contact with his shoulders. It was unlike any other feelings that he’s had before. He finds himself being curious, wanting to get to know more of her, and so desperately wanting to feel her touch against his skin. They sit like this for a long time, the sound of the waves and soft music in the background. He leans his head onto hers, humming a soft tune every now and then.

[elmidol]

Error: Program Not Found - Thirteen

Summary:  You are in charge of programming the droids that work most closely with both General Hux and Kylo Ren. Unbeknownst to you, each of these two men have it in their heads that your relationship extends beyond the workplace. This causes things to escalate quickly when your two apparently secret boyfriends compare notes on their respective partner who is far too similar for their liking.

Read on AO3 

“You use a glass mirror to see your face; you use works of art to see your soul.” - George Bernard Shaw

 Thirteen: Inspirational

 The senator’s arrival had managed to squash your otherwise good mood, and it was the knowledge that you would not be required to approach him until the following morning that kept you from feeling utterly miserable. That as well as the messages that had been delivered to your inbox by Anonymous and Unknown. You worked to unveil which of the identities was Kylo Ren and which was General Hux to no avail. Their similarities were more pronounced in their writing than when conversing with either man in person. This was to be expected given how the written word worked. Droids became less individualized when you were staring at their lines of coding; it was the limitation of relying on the surface of things, the absence of body language to highlight the quirks and unspoken thoughts. Kylo Ren and General Hux were closed off, private, mistrustful.

 Both had sent word of the senator having come to the planet, which led you to believe that they were not in league with one another--unless they were trying to throw you off their scent. It was difficult for you to picture them collaborating together on something of this nature, except in the case where they would make it into a competition. Your lips quirked to the side at that thought. There was something primal about two men fighting over you that made you feel desirable. A little like a piece of meat as well, a sort of trophy. The lack of physical damage to one another saved you from disliking the position you were in. To top it off, it was better to focus on them than your impending interactions with the senator. You still had to determine which aspects of the physical therapy droids that you wanted to share. Leaking too much information could very well result in your idea being stolen.

 With a sigh, you settled back against the pillow and opened one of the new messages that were waiting for you in the inbox. Stress melted away from you with revelation that the message itself was little more than a picture; underneath it was the title of the painting. It was from a local artist that, from what you could recall, was growing in prominence. Depicted was a female humanoid so concealed in luxurious silks and gems that you could not properly note her species. Only her eyes stuck out, lovely things that they were. You were drawn to peer into those depths, which were lifelike. Your breath stilled in your chest as you scanned the entire painting to appreciate all its details. The sender of this message had been Unknown, and you wondered how best to respond to him. It might be that he was a connoisseur of arts or else this one piece had somehow managed to catch his attention.

 You debated for a few moments longer before typing up a line of gratitude that preceded a question as to whether he enjoyed many paintings and, if so, who his favorite artist was. It did not matter the identity of the man at that point; you simply wished to know more about him, what it was that had led him to enjoy the painting enough to send it to you.

 After clicking send on your response to the painting, you returned to the inbox and opened a new message from Anonymous. This correspondence was entirely text-based yet no less artistic.

 To stand upon the hightest tower of Coruscant,

You will miss the brightest land verdant;

The durasteel walls tighten like a cage around you,

Unlike the open halls found on Naboo;

Yet across the skies that they share are the stars above,

Here I pray, though apart, you feel my love.

 You discovered that your mind was piecing together popular images from both planets and arranging them so that they stood in juxtaposition to each other. The fields of Naboo that Coruscant could not boast, the fresh air of the former planet as well. Yet Coruscant had its own beauty amongst those durasteel towers and the pollutants that was known to partner itself with city life. Loveliness in the chaos. You pictured two lonely souls staring up into the sky. Each person on a different planet, longing for more, for one another. A sadness threatened to creep over you. What if, in the end, the two lovers did not meet?

 Shaking your head, you shoved aside that line of negative thinking then grunted in response to Aelin asking if you were fine. He was laying on his bed with both hands atop his stomach. If not for his presence, you might have ventured to pursue a different topic of conversation with the two men messaging you. It had been awkward enough during the last portion of your meal when it had dawned on you that the sexually charged flirtations had occurred in front of Aelin. For his part, he had ignored it as much as he could.

 You chewed on your bottom lip as you started your reply to the poem. Though it had instilled a sense of melancholy, the hopefulness of the words had stuck out as well and left you with an appreciation of the piece. Like with the painting, you wondered what it was about the poem that had caught the sender’s attention and also if they read poetry on a more regular basis. The message read similar to the one that you had sent to Unknown, with necessary changes to better suit the poem.

 You rather enjoyed that the two men held an interest in the arts in some form or another. It set aside the role they played in the looming war that would break out once the First Order was in a better position to take charge. This more human face that you could glimpse behind the safety of a screen helped you to feel less alone. The knowledge that hidden parts within each person were held private for a reason; it reminded you of the droids you had worked on. Lines of code that most would never see despite their importance in the grand scheme of things. Those lines aided in dictating what actions the individual would commit to.

 “You’re smiling again,” Aelin muttered, not unkindly. You rolled your eyes though you felt your grin widening in spite of the audience you had obtained with the expression. “Is it work related? I’m curious.”

 “No, it is not work related,” you said, turning your head and meeting his gaze. His countenance betrayed nothing if he was suspicious of your actions beyond idle curiosity. The decision to alter the course of the conversation before that had a chance to change prompted: "Do you think I should include mentions of the anti procrastination droids as well?"

 Aelin's features twisted, contorting and scrunching as he considered the question. There was merit in revealing that a variety of projects were underway; the senator might be more apt to provide more credits. On the reverse, it spiraled back to ideas being stolen and also could result in him pushing to discuss all projects to include the assassination droids. You half wished that TeeArr was present to aid in distracting the senator despite being fully aware that he would have had the complete opposite effect. While he was continuing to internally debate, you heard the tell-tale sounds of two messages arriving, one a few seconds after the first.

 Though you had messaged him second, Anonymous had been the first one to send a reply. You opened it without reading. Aelin had begun to speak at that same moment. “I would hold onto that information in case he presses to talk about the assassination droids after you’ve already spoken of the physical therapy ones. Gives you another means of changing the subject and putting emphasis on this particular project since it encompasses both droids.” He stifled a yawn with one hand. “Mm. Do you mind if I watch a holodrama?”

 “Thank you,” you said. “And no--go right ahead. I won’t bother me.” You quite welcomed the distraction that Aelin would be offered by the holodrama, whichever one he happened to select. This gave you a semblance of privacy, a lower risk of him noticing the way your expressions altered as you read the messages you received.

 The program Aelin selected was older and you were vaguely familiar with the storyline though you had not watched it yourself. Once he was more immersed in that, you returned your attention to the datapad in your hand and the message displayed thereupon.

 Anonymous: [It is an older poem that I was taught as a part of my education. The senator may be familiar with it should you require material necessary to dissuade him from lingering too long on droids as a subject matter. He will enjoy hearing himself talk.]

 For another time you felt your face breaking out into a smile that was filled to the brim with amusement. He had only half answered your questions, however you were not disappointed. It was thoughtful for him to have done this, and truth be told you had not considered going this route with the senator. This was not entirely surprising given the fact that you had not had much experience one-on-one interacting with senators or other politicians for that matter. Such business was conducted in larger groups, not dissimilar to when  you presented potential projects to the Board at the First Order.

 Music filtered into your musings as the holodrama Aelin watched droned on. Instead of responding to the message from Anonymous, you switched over to the reply that Unknown  had sent.

 Unknown: [Do you know the story behind this painting?]

 Once more, not a proper reply to the questions that you had sent. With a shrug, you composed a brief message stating that you did not along with a nudge that you were now more curious about it. After sending this, you returned to the message from Anonymous to thank him for being considerate and attentive to your needs.

 Unknown: [The artist stated that she is a spectre, a ghost from his past that he saw on three separate occasions. The night before his mother’s passing. A day after his childhood friend left the planet and never returned. The final occurrence was during his graduation from school.]

 You stared at the message without reacting for a beat. Then your eyes narrowed and you found yourself unsure if this meant the woman was an omen for tragedy or success. Was she just some figment of the artist’s imagination. No matter the case, it hit you that Unknown truly was, at least somewhat, invested in this particular painting. To know its history as he did, to have the desire to share it. That was personal. You set aside your datapad and laid down while staring up at the ceiling. These men were going to give you an existential crisis.

 After dozing off for a stretch, you quietly slipped off the bed and entered the bathroom with a bundle of fresh clothing to ensure that you looked more presentable when meeting with the senator. The reflection in the mirror showed subtle signs of exhaustion, albeit nothing beyond what was expected with how life had been proceeding. You wanted to get a headstart on the man you were to meet with as a means of gaining the upper hand. Part of that included taking care of your basic needs before he was out of bed. Prior to exiting the room, you checked your datapad for any new messages yet found nothing of note. Aelin was lightly snoring, nothing obnoxious or that would have wakened you had you not already been up and moving.

 One the items on your to-do list was to purchase food for breakfast given the fact that you had already agreed to do so. Aelin had already given his order, which you had memorized, and you were willing to pay the extra credits to have the meal delivered at a specified time. You grabbed something small for yourself as well. It had been dark out when you had first left the building in which you were staying; one of the stormtroopers escorted you, and the two of you watched the sunrise in a shared silence. You were not yet sure if the stormtrooper would remain with you once you encountered the senator. A part of you did not mind the idea. Another part of you knew that it would be more difficult to make the meeting seem happenstance instead of premeditated. In the end you did not have to worry; returning indoors had been enough for the stormtrooper to break away from you and resume his previous post.

 The lull in activity offered the opportunity to digest the fact that neither Anonymous nor Unknown had sent more messages. You took into consideration the fact that they might have been aiming to not overwhelm you since the both of them were aware of the senator. Plus, you thought after a second, Aelin’s presence might deter them. You smiled a little at that, recalling the thrill you had felt when racing against the clock as you masturbated. Their behavior during the meal was just as exhilarating. Your mind began to race through scenarios wherein you found yourself alone with one of them. Would they kiss you? With no one watching, would they touch you? Your face heated up at the memory of the message that had been sent regarding you being fucked in front of others during the meeting.

 What if both of them had you? One of them inside of your cunt and the other in your mouth? “Ah!” You yelped out a swear at the sound. Turning, you spotted the speaker. The senator was escorted by one of his guards and accompanied by a single advisor. The small entourage caused you to inwardly groan. This was something that you had expected, however it did not make you any less annoyed; having the senator one-on-one would be less taxing. “I did not mean to startle you.” There was a slight purr to his voice that you had heard in the past whenever he felt he was in control of the situation. This, naturally, put you into the exact position you wanted to be in: on his good side.

 You placed a hand over your chest to feign a more exaggerated rattled state than what you were truly in. “Sorry, I did not mean to swear like that.” The best way to go about this conversation was to rely predominantly on truths. He shook his head and took a step nearer to you. “I was hoping to find you, actually.” You worked through ways to seem submissive simultaneous to taking charge. The man’s advisor was frowning, his eyes pinched halfway closed as he glowered at you in suspicion. You jerked your gaze away from his then chewed on your bottom lip before speaking again. “It stuck with me, your interest in the...thing we discussed in the previous meeting.”

 “Oh?”

 “Mm,” you hummed with a nod. “That one is a bit ways off, what with needing proper programming and trial periods. I hope that is not disappointing.” The senator and advisor shared a look. His guard was generally unresponsive to anything that did not involve fulfilling his duty. This was enough to increase your pre-existing suspicions that he had sought out others for the droid series. You inwardly bristled while outwardly you maintained a calm facade. Kylo Ren’s words echoed in your head, the permission he had given you to lie. “Thankfully we hold the appropriate patents to dissuade others from pursuing a similar model.”

 Both were frowning, frustration blossoming on the advisor’s face while the senator appeared more angry than anything. You waved a hand in the air dismissively. “That is beside the point. I just wanted to thank you for the vote of confidence in the project and for your secrecy.”

 Maker, I am bored talking to this man. Your mind kept drifting back to the thoughts that had taken residence directly before his approach. Until this point, you had not realized just how much you wanted physical intimacy. Or even just sex, take away any other element that might exist. Your mind circled back to intimacy, however, and the poem that had been sent to you along with the art. It was the poem that you mentioned as a means of breaking up the silent conversation that had been transpiring between senator and advisor while you had been distracted by your reverie. You wanted to keep the physical assistant droids as an Ace up your sleeve during the meeting. You would still not put it past the man to mention the TR8-0R droids, more so now that he believed his plans to go around the First Order were compromised. Sex really would be preferable to this.

 Introducing the poem had a powerful impact. The senator pulled away from his advisor with a soft smile that you had never witnessed on his countenance before. You were tugged away from your negative line of thinking. As tantalizing as sex was, you realized that these interactions could translate into your future conversations with General Hux and Kylo Ren. Shift away from business, leave behind work, and focus on something that others would think trivial. A poem of all things, which was evocative of countless emotions. You had been handed a weapon, albeit not one to harm others. One that was a key of sorts. The senator could not duck away from any questions you posed his way as easily as Anonymous and Unknown had; there was no screen for him to hide behind.

 Relaxing into the conversation, you listened as the senator began to speak in a more animated, less haughty fashion than he was wont to do. Though you heard everything that he said, some portions were not committed to memory. Your mind drifted in places. You remembered the conversation that you had had with Kylo Ren in the training area. How personal that had been, how it had led to the kiss. Next your encounter with General Hux.

 Armitage and Kylo… Both, truly, were the woman in the painting; elusive, puzzles you could not figure out.  What did they represent for your personal life?

 “There was a sister poem to that one,” the senator said, drawing you out of your thoughts for another time. His advisor lingered several steps behind, your small party having started to walk through the hallway. “It compared Arkanis and Tatooine.” A desert and a planet that rained so frequently. You felt your smile widen at that. This glimpse into a side of the senator that you had not known existed was humbling. It reminded you that you saw only portions of people. This was precisely how you had missed the fact that General Hux and Kylo Ren had each believed themselves to be involved with you.

 I need to speak with them one-on-one in a setting that isn’t...a ship or a base… I need to use this time wisely. Lunch and maybe dinner. Or between meals.

 “Was the poem with Arkanis written first?” You recalled that this was the birth planet of Armitage Hux, and you were curious if he knew of the poem. If he knew of either of the poems; it was again driving you crazy to not know which man was Anonymous and which was Unknown. Simply more motivation to get them by themselves.

 The senator held up a hand haplessly. “I am afraid there are contradicting statements on that.” So much less pompous. The less time he spent conferring with his advisor, the more you enjoyed his company. Maker above, you hated politics. “I do know that the poet is said to have been related to a Jedi.”

 Kylo then? He would know more of that, wouldn’t he? Except...the Jedi were involved in politics. You ran your tongue along your lips. “I think I am going to have to do some more research.” He chuckled then suggested the title to a book as a starting point. This you did commit to memory, promising yourself that you were going to mention it to the sender of the poem. See how they responded. It was your goal to unmask them before the day was through.

[polyolefinprince]

What would you do for the next Pokémon region? What theme would the pseudo legendaries and legendaries be?

In terms of the actual region, I prefer fantasy lands to actual places (I'd rather explore Hyrule than NYC, you feel?) which also permits more diversity in location so there can be stuff like a desert area and a snowy area without it feeling forced. I'd also want caves to come back a bit. Places like the Ice Path in Johto allowed so much more exploration than locations like the Galar Mine which is just one path with an optional offshoot.

Honestly, I want a Breath of the Wild type of game where there is a lot more exploration and letting us approach the story how we want. Gyms would be hard to force in a more open-world game but in the past two generations they've been changing how gyms work so I think it's totally feasible to still incorporate that with badges acting as milestones to unlock stronger pokemon and areas. I still think having the region somewhat split up is a good idea, so maybe having different areas going further into the region, with three gyms per area, and you just have to beat one of them to go on but you're encouraged to beat all three so you're pokemon will on-par with the levels of the next region. This allows for a chance of a gym for each type which would give us 6 different levels of area, similar to Alola's four islands (I don't think I would want them to be islands though because the story requires more forest area than oceans). I think this works well because the first could be a classic Grass/Fire/Water trio, then maybe Electric/Ground/Flying as classic types to teach resistances, then Bug/Ghost/Poison to have a generally spooky vibe, then kick off the second half with the classic Fighting/Psychic/Dark trio, then Ice/Ground/Normal (partially because it's what is left and partially because by now you have typing figured out so a strong normal gym is a challenge) and the final one could be the stronger types with Dragon/Fairy/Steel.

In terms of the storyline, I love what Hoenn did with having two teams with contrasting views and depending on the game you chose you got to see different points of view. I want to try that again but have more nuanced arguments rather than Team Aqua and Magma's opinion on the size of the ocean. I think I'd want my two teams to be focused on Nature vs Society, where one team wants to exhaust the natural world's resources for industry and science while the other wants to push civilization back to make room for the return of forests and wild pokemon. This has definitely been done before so it isn't a new concept, but I think that it's something where arguing for the extremes can lead to disastrous consequences in either side. I'm talking Community Center vs Joja Mart but like to the max.

Playing off of that, Princess Mononoke is one of my two favorite movies and while I would love the forest spirit there to be the Nature legendary, I don't want it to be too similar to Xerneas. Instead, I think looking at the boar gods there is a good choice as they can show the wild strength of nature that I want. So the Nature legendary would be a Grass/Ground giant boar. Let's call it Boarture, even though that's not at all what it's name would be because that sounds too much like torture and I specifically want to stay away from making either of them evil, just dangerous. Still, Boarture works for now.

The Society legendary is harder. I don't want to minimize society to industry because that's harder to justify against nature. I still want industry to play a part, as well as scientific advancement but also history and art as important cultural cornerstones. There are a couple different type combos I like for this one, but my favorite is Fire/Steel, which isn't a type combo we've seen before and also pairs up human civilization really well with the myth of the first fire and cooking and shelter and stories which are all decidedly human traits and the steel incorporating technology and science. I think it would take on a more humanoid appearance while still being wisp-y, a body composed purely of a white fire fueled by ambition and hands of liquid steel that it shapes at will to demonstrate its creativity, while still being dangerous to embrace in entirety. Lets call it Muse.

It might be a lot, but I think I also want a separate legendary trio to accompany them both. With Boarture I think you should have to make a case to three disciples before you get to confront Boarture itself. Each of them composes an aspect of the natural world. I like the idea of them being bugs because there aren't enough strong bug types. One of them is Flying/Bug and it helps herald in storms, another is Rock/Bug and it presides over the desert, and the third is Water/Bug and it protects the rivers and streams throughout the region. For Muse's, I like the idea of them all being Fairies because fairy tales are a human creation, and each of them having to do with humanity and society. One would be Ghost/Fairy and presides ovrr stories and history, another would be Electric/Fairy and would be immersed in technology (like a non-tricky Rotom), and the third would be Psychic/Fairy and would deal with identity and the concept of the Self. I don't like the idea of Pokemon being version exclusive, as somebody who didn't have friends to play with growing up, so I think 3 would be plot relevant, but after the game is complete you can potentially go through a second quest to fight the second box legendary and with it in the party you could find the other 3.

Idk what I would do for pseudo legendaries tbh. I've always wanted a Fire/Grass forest fire pokemon so that would be there. I also want a Poison/Steel radioactive pokemon that would fit well with the industrial aspect of the games. I love the idea of a Water/Dark kraken-style pokemon but I don't know if it would fit in well with my idea of the region. A Grass/Fighting moose pokemon covered in bark? A Poison/Fairy witch pokemon with a special move where it throws a potion with different effects based on the type of Pokemon it throws it at? An Ouroboros pokemon that starts as just a snake trying to bite its tail but turning into a fearsome dragon?

Overall, I think it's ambitious. Making it so that the story is different depending on the version while still following the core story isn't too hard, they've done it before. On top of that, making it so you can fight between 6-18 gyms and not necessarily in order will allow incredible individuality to the games, making it feel like everybody can play their own game with a different story than their friend. It would also allow great replayability as people fight different gyms or challenges like a Nuzlocke but you can only fight one gym per area. Or fighting one gym per area and then going back with a fresh team to fight the next 6 and then a third team to be the final 6.

And then having a nature-team is a great segue into another Pokemon Rangers game which they could have done so well on the switch, with moving the controllers in a circle to catch pokemon.

The problem though is that the Pokemon Company is currently emphasizing quantity over quality. I legit don't know if we'll ever see another epic main pokemon game because they are so focused on getting smaller games that they know we'll buy just because it has pokemon in it. They are prioritizing profits over telling a good story with a good game right now, which is disappointing, but I think it's possible we are in the stage where pokemon as we knew it would have died off by now and the only reason it's still going is because there is still money to be made. This is unfortunate, but I understand that we can't have the pokemon we grew up with our whole lives.

[ddixons-angel]

Fated: Season 3

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff), character death

A/N: And we’re back with another chapter! A bunch of stuff happens here so please do let me know what you guys think!

Chapter 7

Daryl had separated with the rest of his old group and gone off with Merle, like how it was supposed to be in the beginning. Just him and Merle wandering the woods together, tracking and hunting their dinner. Unfortunately, they didn’t catch much, only a few squirrels to split between the brothers. Daryl wasn’t with Merle; physically he was, but his heart and mind weren’t. All he could think of was Gloria, and what Glenn had told him today. She loves him. 

“Foods gettin’ cold, baby brother.” Merle calls out as Daryl stares into the campfire they’d lit.

Daryl grunts and throws his portion to Merle, then continues his staring contest with the embers. Merle glances at their supper then back up at Daryl, eyeing him with a frown.

“Wha’s wrong wit’ ya? Missin’ yer old pals, that it?” Merle accuses and scoffs when Daryl doesn’t respond, “or is it about what the chinaman said ‘bout Gloria?” 

Daryl finally looks up at Merle when he says her name, earning a cackle from the older Dixon. 

“So, ya were finally able to step up yer game after I was gone, huh? How far’d ya get with her?” Merle heckles, leaning in.

“Don’ know what the hell ya talkin’ ‘bout.” Daryl mutters, throwing a few sticks into the fire.

“Don’ think I didn’ see how ya were lookin’ at her since day one, little brother.” Merle says, making Daryl look at him warily, “yeah, I saw it. Ya were like a beast eyein’ its prey, ya wanted her bad.” 

Daryl looks back down at the fire, hoping that Merle wouldn’t catch the blush in his cheeks. He couldn’t deny that what Merle was saying was true, the moment he laid eyes on Gloria he was attracted to her. Her beauty was beyond compare to any other woman he’s seen, and his attraction to her only grew the more time he spent with her. Gloria was someone who could carry her own and not need to be protected, hell, she could beat up Merle without breaking a sweat, and that only made him want her more. So, when she offered herself to him at the C.D.C., he couldn’t resist her, especially with the alcohol in his system. 

“Did ya fuck her?” Merle smirks, trying to get a reaction out of him.

“Don’ talk ‘bout her like that.” Daryl mumbles, his fingers fidgeting with a rock.

Merle scoffs, “fine, did ya ‘make love’ to her? ‘S that better?” 

Daryl glares at Merle, “what’s it even matter to ya? Ain’t yer damn business anyway!”

“I’m jus’ concerned for my brother! Ya got yer mind all wrapped ‘round this one girl, can’t think straight, can’t hunt, can’t even eat! Let me tell ya, that girl prolly don’ give a rats ass ‘bout ya.” Merle makes it over to Daryl’s side and puts his hand on his shoulder, “I’m the only one who’s ever gonna care ‘bout ya, little brother, don’t ya think otherwise.” 

Daryl’s eyes narrow at his words, his blood boiling as he shrugs his brother’s hand off him angrily, “she cares. She cares more 'bout me than ya ever cared to show!” 

“The hell ya talkin’ ‘bout?!” Merle shouts back, angrily getting up as Daryl stands. 

“Ever since she brought us back to that camp, she cared! She helped me when I was hurt and made me feel like I was part of the group when she didn’t need to!” Daryl yells. 

“She was jus’ usin’ you! Ya hunt for the group and bring ‘em fresh meat, tha’s why she helped ya!” Merle argues.

“She cared ‘bout ya too but ya didn’ give ‘em nothin’.” Daryl spits out.

Merle frowns at this, “how’d she care ‘bout me? Huh? Punchin’ me in the face and tryin’ to break my arm in front o’ everyone?”

“How ‘bout stayin’ wit’ ya on that roof and makin’ sure ya didn’ bleed out when ya cut off yer own damn hand?!” Daryl reminds him, “she saved yer life and what did ya do? Stuff her into a damn closet and leave her there?! She blamed herself for ya leavin’, ya know that?!”

“I did what I had to, a'right?!” Merle shouts back, “ya have any idea how many damn walkers were on ‘em streets? Makin’ their way into where we were? Huh? I had to go alone, I had to lead 'em away! Otherwise, ya and the Chinese kid wouldn’t’ve gotten to her ‘fore gettin’ bit.” 

The brothers stare at each other in silence for a moment before Daryl sighs and looks away, “they’re Korean.” 

“Whatever...” Merle scoffs, “look, she can't be the last woman out there, we can find ya another one if tha-”

“No!” Daryl cuts off Merle before he can finish, “I ain’t gonna care ‘bout any other woman like I care ‘bout her. She’s special to me an'... we had somethin’ good goin’... best thing I ever had goin’ on in my whole life!”

Merle falters at his brother’s confession, “y-ya gonna go back to 'em then?”

“Nah...” Daryl sighs, “she’s gonna be pissed that I left in the first place... might never come back from that...”

“‘M sorry.” Merle says, almost sounding sincere.

“Only thing special I ever had and I fuck it up ‘cause o’ ya...” Daryl mumbles and walks away. 

---

Unable to sleep, Gloria had spent the entire night up on the platform. She’s been keeping a lookout for any potential threat to the prison, looking for any kind of distraction from the pain in her heart. She saw Sasha and her group leaving the prison the night before, figuring that Rick had made a decision that they weren't welcome, but Gloria didn't care. She glances to the side as she hears the door to the platform open as Glenn comes to join her. 

“Hey, you need to take a break, you’ve been out here since yesterday afternoon, rest and eat something.” Glenn tries to convince her but as she doesn’t respond, he sighs and sits down next to her, “look, I know Daryl meant a lot to you-”

“Did he?” Gloria scoffs bitterly, not even looking at Glenn. 

“Yeah, I’d say so, I’ve never seen you so worked up over a break up before.” Glenn frowns at her reaction.

“Break up? This isn’t a break up, Glenn, you wanna know why?” she snaps, finally turning to look at Glenn, “Because there was never anything to break in the first place! All those times you asked me if there was anything between me and Daryl, I told you there was nothing because that was the truth! There is nothing going on between me and Daryl because we mean nothing to each other!”

Glenn looks at her sympathetically, he knew that denial was her way to cope with what she was going through, that if she kept denying it, maybe she'd end up believing it herself, “you know that’s not true... Daryl almost came back when I mentioned you.”

“Yeah... the keyword there being ‘almost’.” Gloria laughs bitterly, her sarcasm breaking through her words. 

Realizing that this was not the approach to go for, Glenn tries something else, “Daryl might not be here but you still are, and we still need you with us. Maggie’s going through a lot and Rick isn’t fully in his right mind. You’re the only one who can hold the group together.” 

Gloria sighs at his words; Glenn definitely knew her too well. He knew that she would only be willing to take care of herself if it’s for the sake and convenience of others. 

“Someone needs to keep watch.” Gloria says in a small voice.

Glenn gestures for her to go, “I’ll be here. And get some food while you’re at it.”

Gloria nods and gets up, walking past Glenn, “I still plan on sleeping up here tonight.” causing Glenn to chuckle at her.

She makes her way down to the main area and takes some food Carol had made for the group then heads over to the cell block to check up on Maggie. She sees her lying on the bed, her frontside facing the wall. Gloria goes up to her bedside and gently pats her shoulder. 

“Have you eaten yet?” Gloria asks.

Maggie glances up at her then looks back to the wall, “no, I’m not hungry.”

“There’s still food out in the kitchen if your stomach changes its mind, and if you need anyone to talk to, I’m here for you.” Gloria says, not wanting to pry into what happened at Woodbury. 

Maggie nods, “I know... thank you.” 

Gloria exits the cell and heads outside to the picnic bench where she can oversee the courtyard, she starts to pick at the food on her plate. She watches as Rick is on the outside of the fences picking off walkers as Hershel is on the inside of the fences, accompanying their leader. Carol and Axel are overlooking the courtyard as well but standing closer to the inner fences of the prison. Gloria jumps at the sudden sound of a gunshot and sees Axel fall to the ground, his body falling on Carol as more gunfire erupts onto the prison. 

“Carol!” Gloria shouts as she jumps off the table to gain cover. 

Maggie runs out from the prison as she heard the gunfire from inside, carrying rifles and shooting at whoever was shooting at them. 

“Carol, go! I’ll cover you!” she shouts as she shoots.

The gunfire ceases and Carol is able to get to where Maggie was hiding, she straps on the rifle Maggie had given her and gets ready for the second round of gunfire. The roar of an engine disturbs the silence as a van heads straight towards the prison, ramming through the gate. It stops in the middle of the courtyard and the backend of the van drops open, letting dozens of walkers stumble out.

Gloria had made her way over to the fence and panics when she sees the herd going straight towards Hershel who had fallen inside the courtyard, “Maggie, Carol, cover me!”

Gunfire erupts again as Gloria dashes towards the gate, opening it and slamming it closed behind her as she rushes out into the courtyard. She runs towards the herd of walkers, flailing her arms around.

“Hey! Hey! This way! Over here!” Gloria shouts at them, taking their attention away from Hershel.

"What is she doing?!" Maggie wonders aloud as she shoots, covering Gloria from any potential bites. 

Carol looks around, examining the situation and spots Hershel in the field, "she's trying to save Hershel." 

Unsheathing her daggers, Gloria stabs any walkers that come too close to her. The driver door of the van pops open and the driver climbs out, taking out his gun and pointing it directly at Gloria. 

“Shit...” Gloria swears as she sees this, walkers starting to surround her.

Two simultaneous shots are fired. The first one being Carol’s, hitting the driver’s throat; the second from the driver’s gun, hitting Gloria in the shoulder causing her to fall to the ground. The herd is now split in half; one half going towards the driver and eating him alive, the other half making their way towards Gloria who fights her way through the walkers. To her relief, a katana swings right above her, killing the walkers coming for her and freeing Gloria. 

“Come on.” Michonne helps Gloria stand and directs her to start running towards the truck Glenn had driven into the courtyard. 

They both climb into the truck and Gloria is relieved to see Hershel is safe and sound in the truck. As Glenn drives towards the gate, Hershel looks over to Gloria who is pale and looking weak. 

“Gloria... you’ve been shot.” he announces when he sees her bloody shoulder, causing Glenn to worriedly glance in the rearview mirror.

“It’s a deep one...” Gloria groans in pain.

Glenn drives the truck through the open gate, parking the truck he quickly helps Michonne carry Gloria into the cell block. 

“Maggie, get the supplies, we need to get the bullet out of Gloria!” Hershel calls out as he goes into the cell block with the others.

Michonne and Glenn rush Gloria into an empty cell on the lower level of their block. Setting her on the bed then moving back to give Hershel room as he examines her wound. Gloria glances at Hershel and sees a frown on his face. 

“I-is it really as b-bad as it feels?” Gloria says, breathless.

“It’s a deep wound like you said.” Hershel looks over at her with a serious look, “your bone stopped it from going straight through, and it’s close to your joint.” 

Knowing what Hershel is getting at, she groans, “so if you don’t get it out now, I might not be able to use my arm again.” 

“It’s going to be excruciatingly painful for you, Gloria.” Hershel tells her, concern all over his face.

“Well, I can’t exactly wait for any anesthetic to kick in, can I?” Gloria grimaces, then she looks over to Hershel’s oldest daughter, “Maggie, get me a towel to bite on.” 

“Glenn,” Hershel calls out to him, “I need you to hold down your sister, try and distract her from the pain.” 

Glenn sits on the lower half of the bed and leans his body on Gloria’s legs, holding her hands in place, “It’s gonna be okay, sis, you’re gonna be okay.” 

Maggie comes back with a clean towel and Gloria takes it in her mouth, biting onto it as Hershel looks at her with steady eyes. She nods at him, doing her best to ready herself for the pain to come. Hershel digs into the wound, causing Gloria to scream out in agony as she squeezes Glenn’s hands tightly, trying her best not to thrash her body. 

Outside the cell block, Rick had just come inside with Daryl and Merle. He let Daryl know that Gloria hadn’t been the same since he left. Rick frowns when he sees Carol rushing into the cell block with towels, he also sees Beth and Carl looking on from outside the cell, a look of fear and worry on their faces. Before Rick could even ask what happened, a blood curdling shriek erupts from inside the cell. 

“Carol, who is it?” Rick asks.

Carol glances over at him with teary eyes then spots Daryl, “it’s Gloria.”

Blood drains from Daryl’s face at the news and he dashes into the cell block but Carol holds him back from going into the cell. 

“You can’t go in! Hershel’s still removing the bullet!” Carol shouts at him through her tears. 

Daryl is right at the cell, standing outside as he watches Gloria crying and screaming in pain and agony. His heart breaks at the sight of her being in so much pain. To Gloria, it felt like hours had passed when in actuality it was only a few minutes when Hershel had finally gotten the bullet out. She lets out a pained whimper as her grip on Glenn’s hands loosen. Glenn starts to panic when he sees her unconscious. 

“W-what happened?! I-is she...” Glenn looks to Hershel, his face stained with tears.

“She’s just passed out, her body must be exhausted from all that pain she just had to endure. I’ll patch up her wound and we should all let her rest.” Hershel tells him, nodding at him reassuringly.

Glenn nods, sighing in relief as he looks to his sister who’s laying still on the bed. Daryl stands in the doorway, still, and unsure of what to do. He’s unable to take his eyes off her pale face. He’s relieved that she pulled through but the sounds of her pained screaming haunted his mind. With guilt pulsing through his veins, he escapes into the main area where he had left Merle.

“Hey...” Merle calls out, “‘s she okay?” 

Daryl swore he could hear a hint of genuine concern for her in his voice, “she will be, she’s a tough one. She’ll pull through. She has to...” 

---

Next Chapter

Woo! That was a doozy of a chapter... so now Daryl and Merle are back at the prison with the others but Gloria is injured... I loved writing the dialogue between each pair of siblings, it was really fun especially with the Dixons, what did you think of it?? Next chapter coming this Friday!

I hope everyone stays safe and healthy, please don’t panic, we will get through this!

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

Taglist (please let me know if you’d list to be added/removed!):

@twdeadfanfic​ | @fandomfanatic97​ | @crossbowking​ | @watchmeaspire​ | @spidergirla5​ | @kamieshep​ | @letsstarsfalling​ | @molethemollie​ | @alicewinchester99​ | @neilox​ | @womanup22​

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 15 OF 22

So every day I was surrounded by the beautiful crying forth of the ideas of God,

one of which was you.

- "So every day", Mary Oliver

--

The new year enters restlessly.

January is generally a busy time for the university—the long holiday break at the end of the year translating to a refreshed, pinpointed focus. The Office of Student Relations resumes its scholarship selection process as soon as the offices reopen. Official enrolment to the university begins in early January. Classes begin in the second week.

Theo registers for the last class he’ll have to take before he can do this thesis—and that matched with the exhibit slowly coming into shape, it feels like the beginning of something ending.

And he’s running right for it.

Theo had a dream, once. Maybe not the kind that she would have expected when she asked him, but a dream nonetheless. He’d always looked up to his brother’s art from when he was younger, long before they thought of university or exhibits or the future. A seed of a dream had grown in him for the longest time—a gallery of artists, a collection of art that make the world shine just a little brighter by simply existing. Every week, every month, every year, something new—always something else given out to the world.

A childhood dream that no longer holds the same glimmer as it did when he was seven years old but—still the same one that lives inside of him if he listens hard enough. The one that led him here.

The one he knows but refuses to bring to light, to give a name.

But it’s here, still.

No matter how hard he denies it.

He used to tease her for being relentless about going abroad, but now that it’s his eyes that are set on something, there’s an inexorable hum thrumming underneath Theo’s plain old daily. This semester, his only classes are on Thursdays. He spends the rest of the week in the bookstore as he always does but—he is preoccupied. Spends afternoons when the bookshop is a little quieter going through his phone looking at potential art space and galleries. Reaches out to his professors when he was taking his specialization classes in museology, art curatorship, and art history, to see if they have any suggestions for where to hold Vincent’s exhibit. And at night, he works with Vincent, stares at the paintings, going through the old ones, looking through the brainstorming notes between him and her, of course, the other artistic brain working alongside them.

All art and wild wonder.

Theo writes pitches. Drafts them with Vincent, pours their hearts into it, revises them, rewrites them, shows them to her, throws them away—and then, when they’re just right, sends them. To every viable email, to every possible lead. Theo has a vision; one that used to be through a curtain of fog, but now clear like the summer sky. Now that the paintings are drying along the studio’s walls, he feels like the impossible is so close to his reach. Even Vincent, who is usually a little more reserved about reaching out with his art, has managed to gather up some courage to talk to some professors, by emails, visiting during consultation hours on his day off.

It’s happening, Theo thinks.

This is really happening.

He won’t tell it to her face, but her company is both needed and appreciated as they maneuver through the process of setting it up. The first half of spring is a blur only punctuated by dinners spent with her, Thursday evenings after classes talking with Vincent, sometimes with takeout boxes sitting in the studio, sometimes out of the house for a breath of fresh air. Theo walks around the topics with a nervousness that only goes away when she is there to mediate. He feels safer when she is there. And so does Vincent.

Theo doesn’t know when he’d started to miss her the way he does now. It was as if he had woken up one day missing the sound of her laughter, the loops of even her craziest insights.

Like the way raindrops continually falling can dig a curve into the sturdiest rock, Theo leans into her with an ease he wishes he does not understand.

He does not know if she knows.

At this point he thinks, it doesn’t matter if she does, because what matters is not what his wants, but hers.

He does not want to be another anchor tying her down.

So instead, he does what he does best with her: talk about books. The time they can spend together on their little dialogues have lessened dramatically, what with unmatching schedules, but they still exchange books; what they lack in time now they have in connection. The slide of a new book is enough to prompt the other; a reference to a previous read dropped into conversation and a nod to each other’s direction. Sneaking what little discussions in the 20 minutes it takes to walk her home. Phone calls when the opportunity—and patience—provides.

This is enough.

One afternoon, he and Arthur are at the bookshop. Theo has his head down on the counter, the book she lent open to one side, while he composes a response to an email on his phone. A potential gallery space responded to him, saying they were open to giving Vincent a discount.

“Nice to see life in your eyes,” Arthur comments, as he returns from shelving the canceled book orders. “I’m impressed.”

“Not flattering considering you don’t take anything seriously,” Theo quips. Arthur crosses his arms over his chest.

“You should really grant yourself at least a little bit of that energy.” It’s friendly advice, but arguably so grating coming from Arthur—who spends too much of his energy on his little whims.

Theo doesn’t even blink when he answers, “My brother is the only one who deserves my energy like this.”

To which Arthur says, tone joking: “And? What about our little miss?”

Theo doesn’t quip his denial fast enough for it to be entirely believable.

--

The visits to the van Gogh house are scheduled for Thursdays now, after Theo’s classes. Vincent somehow always makes it seem like her presence there gives so much, but really, she only comes to check in on him and see how the pieces are going. Sometimes, they talk about the exhibit’s flow and how one piece can continue the narrative into another. Over the past few weeks, they’ve built a sturdy collection of possible paintings with leading storylines. The exhibit is going along smoothly.

At first, she had some apprehension that Theo would not appreciate her being there often, as being with his brother and being at their house once a week is a little different from their practiced usual at hiding at the Rooftop with only each other—but Theo had softened in the few weeks they’d been jointly working at the exhibit, much to her relief. He buys her iced coffee, the kind she likes; gets her pastries, getting her favorites right; and for most of the time, he’s an angel compared to how he used to be toward her.

She figures it’s because Vincent is there.

It doesn’t take long, however, for her to see a growing imbalance in their little workflow. It doesn’t take long for Theo to try to carry all that can be sorted out on his own.

Vincent pulls you aside one evening, as Theo heads to the kitchen to get you some juice, saying, “I’m worried about Theo.”

He doesn’t need to expound for you to figure out what he means. It’s not that Theo has been sluggish, but it’s easy to see the exhaustion seeping under him, the whirr of stress and anxiety going around his brain non-stop, keeping him up. Vincent mentions fitful sleep, if there is any sleep at all. The dark circles underneath Theo’s eyes might be enough to make a panda bow in shame.

“Is something going wrong?”

“Arguing out the space is taking a lot out of him,” Vincent explains. “You know how spring and summer is graduation season, and so a lot of exhibits are being held.”

“There’s no way no gallery is taking you, even downtown.”

“The current students in the department just have better funding,” he admits, sheepishly. It’s true—the students in the department get financial support for their final projects as part of the university budget. But each student only gets one. Vincent had already tried to set up an exhibit before—but it didn’t push through. The money has since then been spent on things like art supplies and basic necessities. “Besides, you know how the university is with prioritization.”

It’s true. Because of the large influx of students and the limited spaces both within the campus and the city downtown, the university has pretty stringent guidelines as to how to hold a proper exhibit. With all that added to the thing with finances and also building a strong pitch… there’s just so much talking to be done. “Theo’s a great persuader, though.”

“He is,” Vincent agrees. “But every time he misses a mark just a little, he blames himself.”

Which is very Theo-like to do.

Vincent turns to her with eyes filled with concern. “I know I’m already asking you for a lot, but… can you keep your eye on him, when you can? I’m just so worried about him, and you’re the only one I know who can look over him.”

Theo enters the room, all tired eyes and loose shirt and sweatpants, half-meant glaring: “Hondje. Not too close to broer.”

She puts out her tongue at him, but the rule stands: one does not say no to Vincent.

--

Between books and food, she figures food is the more useful option.

Her classes have a weird schedule, so it’s not every day, but whenever she can, she visits him at the bookstore to bring him food. Arthur mentioned to her—after much prodding and only after she promised to take him and Dazai out for dinner—that Theo had been skipping out on lunch break in exchange for sitting out at the back, so she decided food might be one thing she can do.

It’s not much—she usually catches herself eating in the cafeteria most days, because of her schedule—but when she does make her own meals, she makes a small portion for Theo too. Sandwiches, maybe some soup; pasta, or rice. She brings the same lunchbox she brought that day they were studying at the Little Owl. She doesn’t leave until she’s seen Theo eat.

“Missing me a little?” Theo teases, on the fourth or fifth day she’s randomly come in at Dragon’s Hoard with a lunchbox with a warm meal. It’s been around two weeks since Vincent asked her to keep an eye out for his little brother.

And it’s true, she does miss him a little, because their new schedule this semester has made it so that they could no longer meet on the weekends like they did last time—she has internship work on the weekends for a publishing company—but she’d rather be shot than admit that yet. “No, I just can’t say no to Vincent.”

He hums as he takes a bite out of the small meatball she’d made for their little pasta lunch. Bolognese—her own recipe. “How is the application?”

“Hell,” she says, sighing, as she turns to her box of food. “They added an extra step in, so there’s one more test, and then the final round of interviews. I get that it’s an expensive scholarship but geez…” She shakes her head. “How’s the looking for a space?

“At least five potential places right now,” he answers. When he does, he looks down back at the lunchbox to twirl a forkful of spaghetti. She takes the time to observe the blue of his eyes. “Three is a little more expensive than expected, and two can hold it but with an interruption in the middle of the run.”

And then, quiet. The same kind of quiet they’ve always nurtured between each other, the one where they both get to just let go.

It would be a lie for them not to admit to each other the feeling of hollowness, the one you feel when you’re wrung dry, the not-quite-burnout-yet-but-getting-there exhaustion of just coming at the world, daring it to shoot you down. But at the same time, admitting it feels like some sort of defeat too. They are great at the strategy of not acknowledging the monster that is there, to not give it the power it wishes it wields over them.

What matters is that—even if it is unsaid—they have each other’s backs, and—

Even just that is already enough.

--

[ 01:37 | coolest person on the planet ] theo u asleep?

[ 01:38 ] when did you change your contact name?

[ 01:38 ] and why are you still up?

[ 01:38 | coolest person on the planet ] readings… just wanted 2 check on u

No response.

[ 01:39 | coolest person on the planet ] i’m sleepy

[ 01:40 ] I’m okay. Go to bed.

[ 01:40 | coolest person on the planet ] hav u even slept this past week?

[ 01:41 ] yes

[ 01:41 | coolest person on the planet ] how many hours

Pause.

[ 01:42 ] 8

[ 01:42 | coolest person on the planet ] …

[ 01:43 | coolest person on the planet ] total or per day

Pause.

[ 01:45 ] Did Vincent put you up to this?

Pause.

[ 01:46 | coolest person on the planet ] u shd take care of urself a lil bit more

[ 01:47 ] and yet we’re both up.

Pause.

[ 01:48 | coolest person on the planet ] i mean it

[ 01:48 | coolest person on the planet ] im ur friend ur my friend

[ 01:48 | coolest person on the planet ] let’s worry abt each other

[ 01:48 | coolest person on the planet ] make sure wr both ok, ok?

He sighs, but the smile creeps up his face anyway.

Closes his laptop, goes to the bathroom to wash his face and—

[ 01:50 | coolest person on the planet ] gnight theo

[ 01:50 | coolest person on the planet ] c u tmrw!

Crawls into bed.

[ 01:51 ] goodnight

[ashtraythief]

How about 3, 8, 9, 19, 24? Thanks!!

Oof that's a lot 😂 Thanks nonnie ❤️

3. Favorite angel

Cas. I did like some of the shorter lived angels, I enjoyed both Balthazar and Gabriel (in his original run) a lot and I like Anna, but s4-7 Cas is my favorite. He was the perfect mix between the hard asshole Uriel and the very human, rebelling Anna. I love the gravitas he had and I love his one-liners when he didn't get the pop culture. I love to watch his slow descent into rebellion and coming into his own. I love the s6 development. While I will be forever salty that the writers sacrificed a great villain like Eve (there was so much unexplored there) to the Crowley/Cas/Leviathan drama, I thought the whole theme road to hell is paved with good intentions was a story arc that made sense. And I like the resolution ep from Cas pov. When he died, I was sad to lose his character, but I felt the ending was real and earned. I didn't mind too much when he came back at first because I even still like mad Cas after he took the trauma from Sam's wall breaking. After that… The writers were just all over the place with Cas. His abilities depended on plot demands and they never managed to write enough other angels compelling enough that I cared about heaven's drama. I liked the bit with Hannah, but I wasn't invested enough in angel drama. I thought the whole be Jack's dad thing had potential, but I felt the exploration of Jack and how he was raised fell victim to the plot. There wasn't enough time to do it right because they insisted on the whole soulless drama for Jack and had other ridiculous storylines (the whole Nick thing. Shoot me now).

I still love Cas as a character, I didn't even mind when they gave him popculture knowledge because even though he had all the knowledge it was clear from his references (agent Beyoncé anyone?) that he still didn't understand. Is it realistic that he wouldn't? Maybe. He's millenias old, it's hard to change then I guess.

I'm excited to meet him again when I do my rewatch and enjoy his early seasons.

8.If you could write yourself into one episode, would you? What episode?

Oh, idk the death rate on supernatural is so high…. And everyone who shows up either has a horrific experience, loses a loved one, or dies. The only safe bet seems to be one of Dean's casual bar hookups 😂 (Sam seems to have a better run recently, but Sam's peen of death is a thing and I'd rather not die even if I get to sleep with Sam). Oh, maybe a bartender? Have a little chat with the guys, then safely watch them walk away? Don't get me wrong, I love the show, but I don't want to be in it 😂

9. What supernatural being would you be?

Hm. Vampire? I am fairly nocturnal. But I'm a lover not a fighter, so ghoul? I feel like a ghoul a lot these days, the grave robbing kind, not the fresh meat kind anyway 😂

19. Favorite brothers scene?

The barn scene. THE BARN SCENE THE FUCKING BARN SCENE OMG WHY WOULD YOU ASK ME THIS I AM CRYING AGAIN JUST THINKING ABOUT WRITING ABOUT IT THE FUCKING BARN SCENE BARN SCENE BARN SCENE BARN-

You know, it's really hard to pin down, I think, there's so much good stuff over the years. Everything in Faith, probably, but mostly Dean's I'm dying and there's nothing you can do and Sam's very stubborn watch me.

AHBL 2 Sam dying in Dean's arms.

There's one in s3 but I can't remember the ep, but the one where Sam fights for Dean to want to live. I want you to be my brother again. Just because.

S4 finale, their reunion, killing Ruby and the way they clutch each other's jackets when Lucifer rises.

Swan Song. SWAN SONG. THEIR LOVE LITERALLY SAVED THE WORLD OMG. Lucifer beats up Dean and the reflection in Baby is such a violent reminder for Sam of Dean and Home and Lucifer gets caught in it, gets caught in the memories, the feelings, the love and he cannot handle it because he has never felt a love so strong, so deep, so all-encompassing and it stuns him and throws him off enough for Sam to break free, Sam who's armed with a lifetime of memories of home and love and Dean, riding shotgun with his brother, and it makes him strong enough to fight lucifer and strong enough to jump and my heart broke into so many pieces.

SACRIFICE. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I mean, they practically got married in that church. They damned the world to an eternity of demonic existence so they could be together. Shoot that sweet, sweet, fucked up codependency straight into my veins.

There are more moments, later, but I haven't rewatched the last seasons enough to quote them (do not ask about the barn scene), so this will have to do.

24. I'd tell them that they're heroes, even on their worst days. That they made a difference. That they mean something, to so many people. That they'll leave a legacy, in their world and in ours. That they'll never be forgotten.

[h50europe]

Happy hamster wheeling with Uncle Buck...

I had to empty my brain after catching up with 9-1-1 Lone Star season 5. So bear with me, or scroll past it. Thanks. xoxo

9-1-1 LA—It can be incredibly frustrating when a series loses its initial magic and starts to become formulaic or predictable. Character-driven stories often resonate more because they delve deeper into the characters' emotional and psychological aspects, making their journeys more relatable and compelling.

The depth of character development in 9-1-1: Lone Star comes across better and makes the narrative richer and more engaging. It's a shame when another series, presumably from the same creative team, doesn't have the same quality and emotional depth.

On the other hand, 9-1-1 LA has shifted focus, which is disappointing as beloved characters and their stories are sidelined. An overemphasis on a metaplot and less engaging characters like Brad detract from the overall experience. Finding the right point where the action doesn't overshadow the character-driven story but enhances it was not on TMs bingo card so far.

The OS writers should take note of the feedback from GA and fans alike and bring the series back to its roots. The intricate details of the characters and their evolving relationships often leave a lasting impression, even in the chaos of an emergency. Season 8A was a dumpster fire in more ways than one.

What's with the romantic element that was so prominent in all the post-Season 7 interviews about Buck and Tommy's relationship?

Well, that part of Oliver's interview for Gay Times hasn't aged well.

It ended traumatic, or am I wrong? Tommy's traumatized, though it was never addressed why. What happened to him that he pulled the plug (pun intended) on their relationship? And yes, he threw all the biphobic tropes at Buck he could muster.

At this point, I'm mourning the loss of Lone Star and Tarlos. While I would be okay with 9-1-1 OS being canceled. I'm sure I am not the only one feeling betrayed. It's not just Buck back hamster wheeling. We all are.

As the plots become repetitive and foreseeable, there are two possible scenarios for Maddy's kidnapping: 1) she is saved, and the baby is okay. 2) She's saved but loses the baby. Pick a base. Plus, given the preview, the serial looks like a woman (if the hair we see isn't a wig).

If you already know that TM isn't going to off one of his mains, where is the thrill? Instead he is busy axing everyone else whose name isn't Brad. I am still determining what I should look forward to... Maybe I will be enlightened. Anyway, thanks for coming to my pep talk.

On a side note, wouldn't it be great if they would at least release the cute scene in the car Lou mentioned in one of his recent interviews?

Or they could recycle it in an upcoming episode as a flashback or a dream sequence for Buck. Who knows... Recycling has been one of their favorite things lately. If there was an award for it, they would be runners-up!

[icouldrun]

Rewriting the Uchiha Massacre and Itachi’s Story

First, I just want to say that Itachi is one of my favorite characters of all time and I was actually very sad when he died. I think the plot twist where he was actually good all along made sense… to a point. There were some weaknesses to it that made it fall a little flat and the build up was kind of there but had to be reexplained later which made the story a little weaker. There are a few ways I think Kishimoto could have done it to make it a little more consistent and a stronger plot line.

1) Up until Sasuke killed Itachi, most of the Uchiha Massacre was shown only from Sasuke’s pov, and given his age and trauma of the event, it made him somewhat of an unreliable narrator. This is great from a storytelling perspective, because it gave flexibility to the story when going to other points of view, such as Itachi’s of that night and leading up to it. Sasuke’s memory of his family is as the second son to a prestigious clan that is somewhat cold (mostly Fugaku) but still a superior clan of Konoha.

Sasuke is understandably partial to remembering it as a good place that Itachi destroyed that night. He’s romanticized his family life, and this was done further in filler episodes later in the series. The Uchiha were understandably upset with their treatment by Konoha, but like the Hyuga clan’s treatment of the lower branch family members, the Uchiha likely had skeletons in their closet. Sasuke hasn’t looked underneath the underneath, as Kakashi might have urged him to (nobody has really, regarding the massacre) and like others, believes Itachi simply snapped one day and killed their entire family. Sasuke had some clues sprinkled in front of him leading up to the massacre, but no definitive or solid reasoning to believe Itachi was anything but a psychopath.

2) One of the major problems with the Naruto universe is its use of child soldiers put into situations where it’s kill or be killed. Rather than try to change this or address it as a major problem, villages are proud of prodigies who excel at combat and mastery of jutsu. The narrative presents child solders as the norm throughout the series, but with some hints that perhaps it is a cruel and very wrong practice. Haku and Zabuza, the first major arc of the series end with Zabuza confirming that shinobi are weapons, but the flaw in their design is humanity.

Itachi, according to the narrative was a kind child who was at his heart a pacifist. The problem was that he

1)      Was a prodigy from a young age

2)      Was born into a clan that valued this superiority of combat

There was never any question about Itachi maybe not becoming a shinobi. There was no choice for him in this, and he was rushed through the academy and graduated way too young. One thing that pisses me off about both the Japanese and English voice work for Itachi is that the voice actors sound way to mature in Sasuke’s flashbacks. He was 13 but sounded like a full-grown adult and it throws off the scenes to me. Just my opinion.

His introduction in the manga he appears very young, and like Sasuke but very tired and even colder. 

3)      There were very corrupt people in charge of Konoha and who, as far as we know, were never held accountable in canon for their involvement with the Uchiha Massacre. Danzo and the 3rd Hokage died, but Koharu, and Homura are not held accountable for their involvement with the Uchiha, and whatever else they’ve been involved in.

Itachi continued to help these people even though he owed them nothing. People use this to justify Itachi as noble, but it comes off as a little weak in the narrative. Especially since it doesn’t appear that he really fed much information to Jiraiya or any other confident. It makes his time in that Akatsuki seem less as a double agent and more just hanging out until the narrative needed Sasuke to have a purpose after killing Itachi.

4)      Itachi should never have been a hero, and probably not a villain either. Rather, he should be an example of the major problems in the shinobi system. We should have been able to look at Itachi and the other examples as further emphasis on how deeply flawed the villages and shinobi really are. Itachi had a major following from the beginning and served as a major antagonist with a lot of depth and mystery surrounding him from his first introduction in Part 1.

Rewriting the Uchiha Massacre

Itachi doesn’t want to be a shinobi, but there’s not really any choice for him in the matter. Show the struggle, show him wondering what a regular life might be like during his early years, but squashing that down by the time he makes Anbu.

There’s discontent between the Uchiha and village, but Itachi’s not really involved at the start. He doesn’t want to be, and his family wants him to focus on reaching his full potential.

Shisui is very committed to the Uchiha cause and becomes Fugaku’s right hand in many ways and tries to get Itachi into the fold. They’ve always been close but there’s a rift between them when it’s clear Itachi doesn’t support the coup or doubts its ability to succeed.

Anbu is brutal and its methods and practices demand absolute compliance from members. Itachi struggles but eventually cracks under the teachings. He’s a machine, more or less.  

On a mission though, some of his humanity shines through and he fails to carry out an order right away. He’s immediately put into reconditioning and even faces punishment at home for insubordination. At some point, he starts crying and either Fugaku or somebody in Anbu calls it pathetic.

The Uchiha are putting the final touches on the coup plot when Shisui is taken by Anbu for questioning on what’s going on. He manages to escape, but Itachi (fresh from reconditioning) is ordered to kill Shisui before he can return to the compound and tell the others that Konoha is on to the plot.

Itachi kills Shisui and it’s framed as a suicide, but the work is sloppy *hint hint.

Hiruzen and the others decide to stop the Uchiha but can’t just slaughter one of their most famous clans without reasons.  They call Itachi in and order him to go through with the massacre. Still recovering from reconditioning (and maybe a little brainwashing from the Anbu) he shows almost no reaction and goes to carry out his mission.

He goes through it without much trouble, until he gets to his parents. That’s when it starts to dawn on him what he’s just done and how he obeyed orders without a second thought. The perfect shinobi but at the cost of everybody from his clan.

I’d keep a similar death of Mikoto and Fugaku as in canon, as it makes sense that they’d rather die with the clan than live having failed to stop their son or the truth of the coup come out.

Sasuke comes in, and Itachi falters again and realizes he can’t kill Sasuke even if it’s a part of his orders. He struggles with it for a minute and considers taking Sasuke and running away before Sasuke realizes Itachi is the killer and begins to freak out.

Itachi knows they’d be hunted if they left together, and that Sasuke can rebuild the clan stronger and better than before. To do that, he’s got to become stronger than Itachi, which is why he tells Sasuke to hate him and become better.

Itachi’s use of the Mangekyou Sharingan on Sasuke during the massacre was really fucked up even in canon and doesn’t really get explained in a satisfying way. Since the Mangekyou is a rare form of the Sharingan and a mystery outside the clan, he might have used it to traumatize Sasuke so deeply that the elders in the village were satisfied that Sasuke wouldn’t be a threat to them. He hates Itachi and not Konoha at this point. They’re not on his radar and that should be enough to satisfy them to let Sasuke live and rebuild a prestigious clan down the line. Any love or questions he might have had about the massacre are wiped away because of his reliving of the massacre over and over.

Itachi leaves, slowly feeling the weight of what he’s done. He’s about to go to the Hokage office to report, when he’s stopped by Madara. Rather than go to his own execution, he’s offered a chance to improve the world and end the current and failing shinobi system.

Itachi joins the Akatsuki. I honestly think he’d be a little suicidal in the first few months after the massacre but would slowly begin to accept life as missing nin. It’s somewhat liberating for somebody who’s been held down his whole life.

Understanding liberation, he wouldn’t interfere with Sasuke’s choices or repress him in any ways, including stopping him from leaving the village.

At this point, Itachi is a villain, or an anti-villain depending on how you look at it, but I think it would give a little more weight to his decisions and overall storyline.  

[prettywordsyouleft]

Down By The Lake - Part 5 (Final)

Summary: It was only meant to be a stolen moment between you and your lover Daehyun and ended with him framed for murdering your best friend. With the assistance of your aloof friend Inspector Bang, could you find the real culprit called The Pauper, in time to clear Daehyun’s name?

Pairing: Jung Daehyun x reader ft. Bang Yongguk

Genre: murder mystery / periodic au / horror-ish

Warnings: murder / death / dark content given the nature of the storyline

Down By The Lake will be shared daily at 10am NZST.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

When you opened your eyes, you expected to see the afterlife. And if seeing Daehyun’s face was the first thing you did when you woke up in heaven, then you were certain it had been worth it.

Until you realised heaven looked a lot like your chambers.

You were also not alone with the man you loved; instead, your room was full of many people. Groaning, you came to your senses as the pain settled in.

“This is not where I expected to be,” you croaked and Daehyun’s hand around yours tightened.

“This is exactly where you need to be,” he told you and you glanced at him before noting the look within your father’s face on the opposite side of the bed.

The elder shook his head tiredly. “You could have warned me. I almost lost the one person I hold the dearest.”

“My Lord, with all respect, would you have allowed Y/N to be the bait in the trap?” a deep voice enquired and angling your head around Daehyun’s, you spotted Yongguk sitting in a chair at the end of your bed. He had his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he perused a stack of reports. Finally, he glanced up and smiled warmly at you.

“Whilst I am certain my Lady has many questions as you all have comforting words to share,” Clare announced, ushering Daehyun up from his position beside you. She clapped her hands together loudly and even challenged your father with a stern look. “She is still a lady at best and one in which multiple men have spent a vast amount of time within the private quarters of. Now that you can see she has returned to us, I will ask of you all to leave at once.”

“But I have not-”

“She is my daughter and-”

“Very well, Y/N will bother me when she is ready to,” Yongguk finished, climbing to his feet and following the others forcibly being pushed to the exit.

You gave Clare a look and then sunk further into your bedding at her own harsh stare in return. You let out a heavy sigh. “Must I regain full health first?”

“That you must, my Lady.”

It was a week later when you were able to leave your bed. Aside from your father, who was graciously allowed to sit with you for an hour each afternoon, much to his chagrin and Clare’s reluctance, you had not seen either Yongguk or Daehyun since waking up.

And Yongguk was right; you had many questions to bother him with.

“I need to go out today, Clare.”

“You will not,” she ordered and you glowered at the lady maid.

“If I do not possess the knowledge I require by the end of today, I fear I will fall ill again from too much thinking. Will you accompany me or not?”

“I will, however, only to the parlour.”

“Why there?” you questioned as the woman smiled. “Clare, what are you holding privy from me?”

“Oh, you will soon see, my Lady.”

Walking slowly, and with the aide of Clare, you made it to the parlour room without much discomfort. Opening the doors, you gasped when you found what had been a space set up for conversation over cross stitch, now looked like an entirely different room. Two large tables sat in the middle of the room facing one another, stacked with reports and books.

And at either station sat your longest friend and your lover.

You reached to hold onto your head. “What on earth is this?”

“Our current headquarters,” Yongguk announced simply and you stepped into the room, Clare shutting the door behind you. Moving over to them, you came upon Yongguk’s table first. He was reading notes that contained rather graphic diagrams and you shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself. You definitely had endured your fair share of frightening experiences recently and were not ready for anything further.

Daehyun smiled at you weakly. “I suppose this is a sight you might have never expected.”

“It is, though it does perhaps answer one of my questions,” you replied softly, moving to see what was on Daehyun’s side. He also held similar files, though with a different case number. “You were never a stable hand by profession, were you?”

“I have been many a thing in my time, but I assure you, this is the role I am most capable in. I fancy your father may need to look further into the credentials of his employees after my less than stellar performance in the stables.”

Yongguk snorted. “At least you were incredibly equipped to have at least his daughter fooled.”

“Inspector,” Daehyun warned, and then grinned when Yongguk rolled his eyes. Daehyun then turned to you. “Say, would you like some fresh air?”

“Please, I have been trapped inside for too long.”

“Whatever happens out there, do ensure this time I am not needed for another re-enactment,” Yongguk warned and you bit your lip whilst Daehyun laughed heartily, ushering you to the doors that led out into the garden.

Once settled into your amble, you glanced up at Daehyun right as he went to speak.

“Y/N-”

“Daehyun-”

Sharing a gentle smile, you gestured for him to go first. He pocketed his hands and sighed. “I need to apologise and explain a lot.”

“Well, thankfully for me, my head has recovered faster than my side injury has, leaving me quite capable of listening to both.”

“I spend a lot of time undercover working for Inspector Bang. I have been a great deal of things and done even more than you can imagine. I was placed by your side for information. You attend the most events, as the only daughter and heiress to this family, and further, had the closest connections to everyone in the elitist scene. That was my primary role, to gather appropriate information to help with our investigation.”

“Yongguk knew it was someone within my circles?” Daehyun nodded and you closed your eyes. “Did he expect me to approach you as well?”

“He had not believed you would have any interest in me further than as an outside person to talk to. He knew of your past behaviour of going to the stables to let out your frustrations, however, that was all.”

“Did you plan for this?” you asked with your head down, unable to look him in the eye.

It would make sense, given his mission. You gave Daehyun an easy way in to garner your trust and potentially more information. With your apparent adoration for him, he could have gotten anything out of you had he worded it right. Though, as you thought over your time together before the night you were separated, most of it was conversation about yourselves and what a future between you would hold.

You couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh. Was everything he shared with you just there to help the investigation along?

“I had not. Admittedly, I accepted willingly to grow closer with you, as it would help with our findings. Apart from being the worst stable hand, I was honest with you as much as I could be. There were times where I pleaded with Yongguk for me to leave. I grew vulnerable around you to the point I was worried I was in too deep to be effective to my role.”

“Should I believe this?” you wondered, continuing to walk on, stopping when you realised Daehyun had not. You examined his face, his expression uncertain. Returning to his side, you caught the first tear as it fell.

“Seeing you mere inches away from death frightened me beyond belief. I was willing to give up anything, even my own life if it meant you would stay earthbound.”

“You fool, I am still here so why are you crying?” you asked, feeling your own emotions rising behind your eyes.

Daehyun gave you a watery smile. “I am thankful you are still here. When we found your name on the top of the killer’s hit list right before Lucy’s death, I knew I would throw myself in the line of fire to save you.”

“Is that why you held me back from saving her?” you breathed and Daehyun shook his head.

“She was already dying and there was no way we could prevent it when we got there. I saw the angle he took. I did not want you to bear witness of her final moments like that.”

You nodded, gripping onto his shirt as you tried to settle your emotions. “Y/N, if I could have saved her, you know I would have, right?”

“I just wish we had been there sooner. I should have just asked to go for a stroll and not a swim.”

As you continued to talk over everything, you found that Daehyun had been taken away only to take refuge in Yongguk’s home. You stared up at him, speechless momentarily. “You mean when I was there…”

“I was in the adjacent room listening on.”

“Then you heard that I had held suspicions over you!”

He nodded. “I would have been surprised had you not.”

“As for the investigations Yongguk and I did?” you prompted and Daehyun sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“I, unfortunately, got spotted.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Yongguk saw me up in the tree watching on. You know, you were awfully close with him. Is there anything in the past between you both? I asked him many a time and yet he refused to answer.”

You smiled. “Then perhaps we should leave it like that.”

“Y/N!”

“I despaired over you!” you exclaimed, your frustrations mounting. “Here I was, wholly believing that I was saving your life and you were gallivanting around the countryside with us!”

“I would not go as far to stretch the truth and say I gallivanted,” Daehyun remarked and you let out a scoff, turning on your heel to walk away. “Now you just wait up a second!”

Daehyun caught you easily and you glowered in his direction. “And Yongguk! He must have had succumbed to fitful laughter with how ridiculous I was! I fear I will never be able to face him again with how mortified I am right now to be played by you both!”

“I very much so doubt that man can even laugh. I have yet to see him do such a thing in the past five years I have worked with him. Not even a chuckle!” Daehyun pointed out and you tried ever so hard not to fall trap to his amusing statement.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head, moving on with your complaints. “I was in danger and you both let it continue!”

“It was a risk, yes. However, you did agree.”

“Only because I believed you were framed!”

“Okay, so is this the part I get down on my knees in forgiveness?”

“You believe I could accept such a thing?” you wondered, looking away just in time as Daehyun dropped before you.

“It was a necessary evil and I do apologise for the grievances I have stricken you with,” he implored and you angled yourself ever so slightly to see his face. Daehyun reached out for your hand, gripping it fondly. “It was the most challenging time of my existence, I’ll have you know. I had to remain invisible in order to fool you and the killer. Even if I saw you most days, it felt as if I only did so from afar. I could do nothing for you and had to rely on others to protect you in my absence. I cannot explain how antagonising that was for me.”

“Did you know there was a separate killer?”

“We did have our suspicions. Yongguk knew I was out there waiting since Lord Wilsford had used the track to escape before and that was why he let you go with him.”

You gestured for Daehyun to get up, letting out a lengthy sigh before slipping your arms around his waist, surprising him. “I have a few requests, of course, if I am to accept your apology.”

Daehyun relished in your closeness, his arms embracing you snugly to him. He hummed for you to continue.

“Will you continue to be undercover?”

“Whilst it is a skill I possess, I do not believe it is something I will be asked to do often now.”

“Do I have to concern myself of you luring another woman if you have to return to such a task?” you continued and he pulled you back to arm’s length.

“You approached me first!”

Giving him a look, you began to repeat yourself. “Will you-”

“No, I will never. My heart belongs to only one person and I could never betray that love.”

You smiled, satisfied. “Will you leave me in the predicament that I currently am in?”

“Which is?”

“Well, I am in want of a husband. Is that a role you wish to obtain?”

Daehyun smiled, leaning into you. “You are positively a wicked creature. I was worried you were going to turn me away for good.”

“I merely asked for your assistance in making an honest woman out of me. My father believes we have-”

“No, he has been informed of the truth after a very intense approach on his behalf.” Daehyun laughed awkwardly, looking a little uncomfortable. “There was some time between your coming back to us, Y/N.”

You laughed, imagining the approach your father had taken. “Still, I shan’t wait for you forever. You will be busy with your new position and I may find someone else who takes my fancy. There will be a new stable hand-”

“Must I confess my endearment for you right now? In the most unprepared manner?”

“Whilst I would love to hear it all, I do wish to be courted properly.”

Leaning in to kiss you, Daehyun rested his forehead upon yours. “I will thank the Gods every day that you returned to me.”

“You told me I could not leave you yet.”

“Can I be selfish and ask that you never do until it is time for us both to see another world together?”

“Who else would I risk my life for?” you replied, leaning in to kiss Daehyun again. “My heart is yours.”

“And my soul will become one with you when we say I do.”

“I want to hear that right now.”

“We cannot have one nice moment, can we? Did you not just proclaim you want to be courted properly? That will require time and-”

You cut off Daehyun’s words with another kiss, smiling into the embrace as you did so. “This is a very nice moment, my love.”

“One of many, now that you are safe.”

“Safe? Why with you around I do wonder if that is a word I can use. I saw the case-studies you and Yongguk are working on. What kind of mischief are you going to get yourselves into next?!

Laughing, Daehyun nuzzled you with his nose and sighed. “I believe that anything with you has the ability to be much more frightening than those who I chase down.”

“Does it scare you?”

“On the contrary,” he murmured, holding your chin within his hand as he angled in for another kiss. “I am excited for what will happen next.”

_________________

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Shameless Season 11 Episode 11 Review: The Fickle Lady Is Calling It Quits

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This Shameless episode contains spoilers.

Shameless Season 11 Episode 11

“We’re adults now. This is what adults do. They move on.”

Shameless tows the line over whether Frank Gallagher is actually wise or just so high on his own supply that he’s convinced himself that he’s a street smart genius. The truth of the matter is irrelevant because either way Frank still makes bold declarations as if they were the word of God. He’s a non-stop repository for nonsensical advice and Frank’s teachings have been present through every season, even if they’re lessons that the Gallaghers actively ignore. 

“The Fickle Lady Is Calling It Quits” pushes a narrative where characters need to either move forward or slow down, but a greater source of wisdom that influences the episode’s structure is the laundry list of life lessons that Frank has spewed out for eleven seasons. This direction turns Shameless’ penultimate episode into one of the most emotional and impressive entries of the season and provides the right direction for next week’s big finale.

Previous seasons of Shameless frequently treat Frank like an unrepentant derelict and there are times where he even operates as an outright villain. This final season has worked hard to humanize Frank as he transitions into this feeble stage of his life and it’s been a very powerful experience. Now, an episode away from the very end of Shameless, Frank is at his absolute worst and at this point there’s no hatred towards this passive father figure, only pity. William H. Macy looks utterly lost in these scenes and he’s really put everything into this final season. Macy actually deserves some award consideration when the time comes and this is the episode that he should submit. 

Frank is usually the one that drives the chaos forward in Shameless, right down to the previous episode, but “The Fickle Lady Is Calling It Quits” turns into a somber celebration of all things Frank Gallagher as Liam graciously tries to remind Frank of the indomitable fighting spirit that’s defined him for his entire life. Liam throws Frank’s own advice back at him when he tells him, “Either you run the day, or the day runs you.” 

This episode feeds off of the energy between Liam and Frank from the previous installment and it’s appropriate that Liam is the one that’s with Frank during his weakest moments. Frank can rest easy knowing that Liam is living proof that goodness has come out of all of his selfish behavior over the years and somehow this child has been able to synthesize his ramblings into practical advice.

It’s a lot of fun to return to this farcical side of Frank’s character, but the comedic sensibilities of Shameless continue to be all over the place this season. There are some legitimately funny and subtle jokes throughout this episode, but there are also ridiculous setpieces where good samaritans get steamrolled by a truck. Shameless has always had a dark sense of humor, but it needs to have a little more confidence in itself and not resort to such broad gags that come close to breaking the reality of the show’s universe. Mickey’s consternation over housing complex guidelines feels more natural, and is funnier, than fatality punchlines or extended TikTok dance routines. 

Mickey and Ian’s time in Chicago’s West Side becomes surprisingly fulfilling and it achieves the right balance between comedy and drama. This new lifestyle puts Mickey and Ian at odds with each other and it becomes a strong dissection of their characters as well as how far their relationship has come. Their material is full of great character moments, like how Mickey needs to listen to car crashes and general destruction as a white noise machine to help him peacefully fall asleep. Mickey’s discomfort over his new life becomes so severe that he has to sneak back into the Gallagher house and get up close and personal with the crime and chaos that echoes through the South Side. 

I don’t expect Mickey to completely regress and be unable to forge ahead with Ian in this marginally swankier life, but this feels like a reasonable temporary hurdle for him to clear before the series concludes. Despite how this West Side lifestyle is a productive change for Ian and Mickey, it’s still something that Ian made official while Mickey wasn’t completely on board. It’s an understandable schism between them and the episode is smart to tease them falling back onto old habits, only to do the opposite. 

“The Fickle Lady Is Calling It Quits” teases infidelity and disappointing decisions, but their selfless resolution to the problem is one of the sweetest moments from the entire season and basically what I’ve wanted from these two all season. Every character in Shameless has been through a tremendous amount this season and it’s impressive how Mickey and Ian’s conflict resolution methods have evolved from the volatile place that they were at when the season began.

Mickey and Ian display genuine maturity with their relationship issues and it’s a level of synergy and consistency that Debbie craves. Everyone is considerably worn down from the events of the season and is close to their breaking points, which in Debbie’s case finally causes her to take a long look at why her romantic endeavors have all been so toxic. This introspective attitude is good for Debbie, yet the victim mentality that she adopts and her anger that Frank has “ruined love for her” is a little too simplistic. Debbie has been in healthy relationships that failed because of preventable problems that she instigated. 

Debbie polls the people in her life on how to build connections and stay together when her family is on the cusp of separation, which does carry a level of poignancy, even if not all of the insight that she acquires from the experience is healthy. It’s a storyline that works as well as it does here specifically because it’s juxtaposed around so many changes and goodbyes. Debbie does productive work to better herself, but the direction of her endgame is more than a little confusing. 

“The Fickle Lady Is Calling It Quits” parses out several scenes where an aggressive woman named Heidi causes a wave of mayhem promptly after she’s released from prison. Initially it looks like Heidi’s roaring rampage will intersect with Carl’s new police gig and provide him an opportunity to take down this menace and become a hero again on the force. That’s not at all what happens and it’s madness that Heidi is meant to instead provide closure for Debbie! 

Heidi literally threatens to shoot Franny with a revolver and minutes later Debbie is ready to spend the rest of her life with this loose cannon. The most frustrating thing is that next week’s series finale will likely hint at a happy future for this fresh couple, but based on everything that’s known about both of these characters it seems like it’s destined to go up in flames, perhaps even more quickly than previous relationships.

Carl doesn’t get to take out an angst-ridden recidivist, but he does still find some peace and gain a better understanding of his calling after a season of being frustrated. Carl’s impassioned speech is long overdue, eloquent as hell, and completely right. It also would have been justified several episodes back, but at this point Carl’s pent up frustration over what he’s witnessed at the police department makes sense. 

It’s encouraging that Carl embraces his demotion and uses it to find clarity. It’s still hard to say if this police direction for Carl’s character was worth it in the end, but thankfully it doesn’t suck out his soul or leave him bitter at the world. Joshua Malina is such a hyperbolized schlub through all of this, which is entertaining and also reflects the greater level of incompetence that surrounds Carl while he attempts to do honest police work. 

Carl and many of the Gallaghers are caught in flux when it comes to their new lives, but Kevin and Vee already have Chicago in their rearview mirrors. Vee and Kevin represent a force of confidence and their resolve towards Louisville inadvertently helps many of the Gallaghers work through their own sources of stress. It even feels natural that the person that Kevin and Vee sell their house off to turns into a break for Lip to diminish the colony of ulcers that have been brewing in him all season. This blessed development also doesn’t feel contrived because it’s an opportunity that Lip ultimately botches. 

Liam reminds Frank that he’ll have both good and bad days, but this cautionary advice becomes even more applicable to Lip’s story. It’s heartbreaking how everything sours for Lip and there’s such palpable tension through it all. This is supposed to be Lip’s easy way out to a happy ending and it instead quickly becomes a nightmare. It’s very clear that something is about to go wrong and just how poorly Lip has handled this situation. It’s a slow motion car crash of drama to the worst degree.

This sword is left to hang over Lip as the episode concludes and he almost seems to accept the cloud of hopelessness that’s formed over him. It’s a sad, hollow version of Lip that doesn’t feel dissimilar to Frank Gallagher and his decision to go out on his own terms. Frank’s concluding moments are devastating, but they’re also the only time in the episode where he feels empowered. It’s a turn that fundamentally changes the tone for Shameless’ series finale and has the potential to bring out the best in each character. There’s now a small sliver of hope that Fiona might show up, whereas I was previously convinced that this was impossible.

“The Fickle Lady Is Calling It Quits” is the strongest episode of Shameless’ final season, it contains some of William H. Macy’s absolute best work from the show, and it instills some optimistic confidence for what the series has planned for its final installment. The Gallaghers’ lives are far from over and there’s still a lot that these characters need to figure out before the series’ conclusion. The tragedy that strikes in the episodes’s final moments is a strong catalyst that should bring everyone together and deliver a series finale that’s just as much about togetherness and supporting each other as it is about new beginnings and closing the door on the past. 

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It will also absolutely end on its own terms, just like Francis Gallagher.

The post Shameless Season 11 Episode 11 Review: The Fickle Lady Is Calling It Quits appeared first on Den of Geek.

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FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 1

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something's rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won't rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic's top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Spoilers: Forged Alliances. SWTOR Lost Suns and Annihilation. Some things in the Vanilla storyline, including the Revan flashpoints. Author’s Notes: Out of necessity, parts of this story will contain scenes from the game itself. Whenever possible I’ve tried to rewrite them so that they hopefully remain fresh and interesting, while still retaining the essence of the scene itself (so hopefully it doesn’t feel like you’re reading a transcript). This one is also going to be a bit slow to start, but it’s going to be a long one.

Crossposted to AO3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |  Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

When the Supreme Commander of Republic Forces called — it was generally a good idea to answer. Even if he just so happened to be your father.

However, this was official business, so Theron Shan decided to ignore that fact as he strode into the large office located in one of the corners of the Senate towers. The receptionist had waved him through without any fuss this time around.

Perhaps she had gotten used to him at this point — she hadn’t even glared at him this time. He supposed that was progress. It was nothing he had done, of course, just a bit of guilt-by-association. She and Marcus Trant, the Director of Republic’s Strategic Information Services had gotten quite chummy a little while back, but alas, she was not to become the third women to hold the title of “Mrs. Trant”. Easy come, easy go as the saying went.

Come to think of it, maybe the lack of glares this time around had more to do with the fact that Trant hadn’t accompanied Theron. It was a mystery for another time, though, as his gaze fell on the figure seated behind the desk in the center of the room. 

Jace Malcom was an extraordinarily tall man, he towered over Theron by at least a foot or so, and between the height, his deep gravelly voice, and the gruesome scars crisscrossing his face, the man could come off a little imposing. Theron wasn’t easily intimidated though, and he had a… unique situation with Jace. — considering the fact that the man was his father. Biologically at least, or… whatever.

It was complicated.

Theron hadn’t even known who Jace was, outside of his military record that was, until they’d met during the mission to take out the Ascendant Spear. Their first real meeting as father and son hadn’t exactly gone well, it was awkward, Theron had just wanted to leave, and most of their interactions outside of a professional setting had just been a bit like that. On the job, they were good. Despite popular opinion, Theron could take orders (when they made sense),  and off the clock they… well, they were trying to settle into something resembling familiarity. The “father-son bonding sessions” were thankfully few and far between. Theron liked Jace well enough, and they certainly got along better than he and his mother, but it wasn’t exactly like they were going to go out and throw the gravball around any time soon.

However, this meeting request had come through official channels, so thankfully that probably meant things would be less awkward and weird. At least he hoped.

Theron cleared his throat, pulling the older man’s attention away from the datapad he was reviewing. Seeing his visitor, some of the deep lines on Jace’s face smoothed into a smile. “Ah, Theron, you’re early.”

“Traffic wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.” He folded his arms in an effort to look casual. “Trant had a Senate briefing, so you get me instead.”

“That’s all right, I was hoping you’d be here for this. We can loop the director in later.”

“Your message was a bit vague,” he said, “just that you had some intel you wanted to discuss?”

Jace nodded. “One of my men came to me with something he picked up in the field — regarding Korriban. And a way we might be able to strike back.”

Theron’s eyebrows shot up. “Hitting Korriban? You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” The elder man looked at him grimly. “This all started on Korriban, it would be fitting for us to start the death knell for the Empire there.”

Korriban had been one of Jace’s first stations, and where he had met the future Grand Master of the Jedi Order, Satele Shan — who just so happened to be Theron’s mother. Theron shifted the weight of his feet, a habit he’d unfortunately picked up in these conversations when the subject of his mother came up, even indirectly as it was now. He hated having a tell, even something so minor and with someone like Jace who while sharp, probably hadn’t picked up on it.

A change of subject from ancient history back to the present was probably in order — and a lot more comfortable. So Theron addressed the deeper issue at hand. “SIS has been trying to get a mole on Korriban for years, and everyone we’ve tried to embed there winds up dead. That place is a death trap.”

“I’m not asking anyone to go undercover,” Jace assured him. “I’m thinking more smash and grab. But before that, I want you to look over this intel and let me know if you think it’s viable.”

“Me?”

“You were the one who cracked how to take out the Ascendant Spear — if anyone can do the same with Korriban, it’s you.”

It was a high compliment, and genuinely based on his skillset, rather than a form of nepotism. After their success against the Ascendent Spear, Theron had been tapped as a resource more and more for Malcom’s office. It had kept him out of the field more than he liked, but the tangible results of his work on the overall war was satisfying in its own way.

“That seems simple enough,” Theron said, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Any reason for all of the cloak and dagger?”

“Considering the target I don’t want to take any chances. I want someone I can trust taking point on this.”

Theron couldn’t quite decipher the look on Jace’s face, but nodded a thanks all the same. It was… odd having someone be so complimentary and open about that kind of thing. Trant’s usual way of expressing gratitude was a cutting sarcastic remark. Which he was fine with — it was familiar. Easy. But the mark of a good spy was adapting to the situation at hand.

Even if that meant a little bit of inadvertent father-son bonding.

Jace handed over a small data chip. The fact that he wasn’t trusting any of this on any network channel spoke volumes about the need for discretion.

“I’ll look this over and get you an answer as soon as possible.”

That seemed to satisfy Jace, but as Theron made his way out of the office and out into the streets, he was unsettled. The reason for that feeling wasn’t readily apparent, but hopefully once he had a chance to dig into the data he’d figure it out. He tended to trust his gut on these things, but a chance to strike as rich of a target as this was too good to pass up on a mere bad feeling alone.

The more he dug into the intel that Jace had given him, the more Theron had to admit that the Supreme Commander was right. A strike on Korriban not only seemed viable, but had the potential to yield invaluable information that could finally lead to an end to the war.

A Jedi named Jensyn had come away from an encounter with an apprentice to a member from the Dark Council, revealing that they had databanks in their main chambers with some of the inner-most secrets to the Empire. A literal goldmine of information that could turn every future battle and operation to the Republic’s favor. It was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up, and so Theron kept digging. Every intelligence report surrounding the encounter checked out, and just because he liked being paranoid, Theron looked into the Jedi too. The man had served aboard the Telos in its campaign in the Albarrio and Relgim sectors, and had an exemplary service record. The closest thing he found to a red flag was the copious amount tea Jensyn liked to consume.  

As far as Theron could tell, the intel seemed clean.

That just left the minor problem of storming Siths’ the inner-keep. Just getting on the ground would have been an issue, except that apparently a SpecOps commander named Rian Darok had found a gap in the patrols on Korriban. It wasn’t a large one, and they’d never be able to launch a full-scale assault… but a strike team could make it through and perform an extraction.

Theron filled a large mug to the brim with caf, settled into the most comfortable chair he could find at SIS Headquarters, and got to work mining everything they had on Korriban. He had to cobble the data together from a variety of sources to even get a close picture if it could be done. They had old schematics of the ground layout, but due to the age he had to cross-reference it with a report from an escaped acolyte to confirm the probable obstacles facing a strike team on their route from the landing zone into the Academy. This, coupled with bits and pieces of security information scraped from the almost-defunct Imperial intelligence, yielded an access point for someone on the ground that could allow a talented slicer to insert an exploit. It was technically doable, but the resistance the ground team would face stacked the deck against the op’s favor.

“Viable but a logistical nightmare” was how he summarized it to Jace and Marcus the next morning, gratefully accepting the giant mug of caf the Supreme Commander had ready for him the moment he walked in the door.

“Pay up,” Marcus said, and Jace grudgingly handed over a credit chip.

Theron narrowed his eyes at the both of them suspiciously over the rim of his mug. “And what was that for?”

“Just how quickly you’d go for caffeine,” Marcus said casually.

Theron fixed his boss with a glare before taking a very long drag of the zippy brew. Apparently being Supreme Commander came with some perks, because if the spy wasn’t mistaken, this was the more expensive Alsakan Mountain roast. The director just shook his head and turned to the datapad with all the findings, letting out a low whistle at the potential yield if the operation was successful. As both of the older men perused the data, Theron barely suppressed a yawn. The all-nighter had come at the tail end of an op, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was probably needing at least a few hours of sleep.

“You could have taken two days to look at all this,” Jace said lightly, “but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Intel can go stale quick.” Theron shrugged off the paternal concern easily.

“All the reason to act quickly,” Jace said, “if Trant can spare you for a little bit.”

“Please, take him. Much less of a headache for me.”

“I’m really feeling the love here,” the agent muttered.

“You’d feel more if you turned your expense reports on time.”

“You have to get a thrill somehow since you’re not out in the field anymore,” Theron shot back easily. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You see what I have to deal with?” Marcus pointed the question at Jace, who just shook his head.

“Well, I’m happy for the loan, Marcus,” he said, turning the subject back to the matter at hand. “I can see how logistics can get sticky, but I think I’ve got someone who can help with that. Colonel Darok has a knack for this kind of thing.”

Having spotted the hole in the patrol route, Theron had to admit the man had a keen eye. 

“You’d need a small army just to get through that many Sith. No way to get that many troops in,” Theron pointed out. “I don’t even see how even a master tactician is going to navigate that. ”

“What about a small strike team?” Marcus asked.

“Might work, but they’d need to have hides of durasteel.”

Jace looked thoughtful for a moment, before he headed over to his desk and pulled up a few dossiers on a datapad. He paged through a few, before handing it over to Theron. “Have you ever heard of the Coruscant Aegis?”

“Never met them personally,” Theron paused to take another sip from his mug before continuing, “but one of them provided cover fire on an extraction for me once.”

Marcus snorted, apparently remembering the incident in question. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“I needed to make a hasty exit, and the lady was kind enough to clear a path. At least I think it was a lady—there was a lot of blaster fire. Pretty sure she called me insane.”

“That sounds about right.” Marcus heaved the heavy sigh of the wearied soul.

“I suppose I owe whoever it was some thanks,” Theron said. “Probably wouldn’t have made it out without the assist. Some nice flying and shooting.”

“They’re good at what they do,” Jace agreed, “the best actually.”

“Are any of them lightsaber-proof?” Theron asked sarcastically.

“They haven’t let one stop any of them so far.”

Theron juggled the mug and datapad, skimming through the personnel files as he continued to sip from the sweet caffeinated nectar. He tried to school his expression as he skimmed through the major highlights of each name, but the laundry list of heroic deeds associated with each individual was quite impressive. A notorious smuggler who had taken down the Voidwolf. The commander of Havoc Squad. Even a member of the Jedi High Council. It was the last one that made Theron stop and frown.

“Is this last one even real?” he asked.

Jace nodded solemnly. “She is.”

“It says she killed the Sith Emperor.”

That got Marcus’s attention, who leaned over Theron’s shoulder to read the dossier. Not liking the crowding, he handed the datapad over to his boss, and proceeded to prop his hip on Jace’s desk, still nursing the mug of caf.

“You asked for a small army,” Jace pointed out. “Any of them would be able to perform the extraction.”

“I’d say in that case we should get them all,” Theron said, “but they’re probably pretty scattered.”

Their window of opportunity to strike for this was going to close fast, though, so time was of the essence. It was probably also best to keep the number of those aware of the operation on the lower side too. Even if they were going to take on the entire Sith Academy, and maybe even the Dark Council.

Jace nodded. “You probably can get one in all likelihood.”

“Me, huh?”

“Colonel Darok will be in charge of the operation,” Jace clarified, “but I want the SIS involved on this. This is too big of a target to not bring in our best.”

Theron caught the backhanded compliment, but instead of responding verbally, he just nodded. “I can do some recruiting if you want. You have a preference?”

“Surprise me.”

 Jace flashed him a brief knowing grin, and Theron checked the urge to roll his eyes. He was fairly certain Marcus wasn’t aware of the familial connection, so showing disrespect to the man who was technically his boss’s boss probably wouldn’t help things in the long run. Knowing the way his luck tended to run, Theron would probably need to appeal to the director’s better nature in the next month for some reason or another. Theron didn’t intentionally cause diplomatic and inter-departmental incidents, they just tended to… happen. Sometimes. And by sometimes he meant like clockwork. 

“I’m going to need a little time to dig into the files if that’s the case,” he said instead of rising to the teasing.

“That’s fine.” If Jace was disappointed in Theron’s utter professionalism, it didn’t show, and the moment of levity slipped away. "It will take me some time to get Darok caught up and for us to put a battle plan together.”

Theron nodded and pocketed the datapad from Marcus. “Exactly how much time are we talking about?”

“Enough that you can sleep on it,” Jace tried to keep his tone light, but Theron still caught a hint of paternal concern threading underneath.

“Sleep?” Marcus snorted derisively. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I sleep when I’m bored,” Theron shot back.

“Good. Then you’ll be out before you even get through the first dossier.”

“Are you kidding? This is better than a holo-drama.” The spy tapped his pocket where he had stowed the datapad. 

Jace just shook his head, amused, and the discussion turned to other matters of intelligence. Theron let himself out once he finished his mug of caf, the weight of the datapad in his pocket a reminder of the upcoming mission. Despite the caffeine, he could feel fatigue pulling at him. Either the long hours were getting to him, or the unsettled feeling from the previous day was still eating at him. Maybe after he was able to study the personnel files some more, he could take a moment to review his notes and pinpoint what was bothering him. And then he could get some sleep.

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