#it feels almost disrespectful in a way. this game was clearly trying to communicate some heavy stuff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emersonfreepress · 4 years ago

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ok ok in the spirit of community, how would the ros fair in a paintball war?

(referring to this ask! like the zombie au post this ended up making me think a lot 😅)

ohh... interesting, interesting... p sure the only paintball wars i’ve really seen were the ones featured in The League, Peep Show, and Community... but let me wrack my lil head...

ok, i ended up coming at this from multiple angles like the zombie au post 😅 always so much to consider in battle environments! and in the spirit of community, I'll stick with the individual player elimination style paintball match. in the woods with other e prep seniors. last one standing wins bragging rights

Gabe

Shooting skill | 6/10 - Experience with shooting and practice with Kile ofc

Stealthiness | 8/10 - He's done a fair amount of sneaking around during his after school activities, is super observant (or just paranoid lol), and naturally light on his feet. Good luck ambushing him.

Strategy | 8/10 - Strike deals. Do favors. Form alliances. Shoot 'em in the back once they’ve outlived their usefulness. ...What? It’s just paintball.

How does he win? | Graciously. Gabe likes winning, and especially via strategic manipulation, so it puts a smile on his face. And he's in a good mood so he treats a bunch of you to ice cream or smth 👀

How does he lose? | Slumps in frustration at being outwitted or taken off-guard, sulks about it for a little while. He's not that sore of a loser but needs time to lick his wounds and stop thinking of the different choices he could have made.

Kile

Shooting | 9 - The most accurate shooter of the cast and easily one of the best shots at E Prep. Lots of practice + talent

Stealth | 10 - They're stupid good at climbing trees and 100% consider that a valid method of ambushing their classmates. People start having flashbacks to 3rd and 4th grade recess and P.E. Scanning the trees. They just start taking people out with such efficiency it quickly starts ruining the game 😂

Strategy | 0? 10?? - “...Strategy? You just stay out of sight and kill 'em all, right?” (immediately scolded by Gabe for word choice 🙄) They really do mainly stay out of sight and pick people off with max stealth, like 😆 they'd be such a terror, people would need to take them out early for anyone else to stand a chance! They spend a lot of the game staking out the most frequented paths in the area and taking out groups quickly, all at once. Then they'll get around to stalking and picking people off one by one. The real fun...

Winner type | Stoic. Likes winning combat but the stakes were non-existent, so... the win is meaningless! this just infuriates the losers more 😅 such disrespect

Loser type | Sucks their teeth and tosses their paintball gun to the ground. "Y'all suck." (they're over it five mins later tho lol)

Jack

Shooting | 3 - This is nothing like shooting light guns... ☹️

Stealth | 5 - Not just due to his size making him an easier target, but homeboy is liable to get distracted by a cute squirrel or some pretty flowers 😂 He's not great at keeping his voice down either so good conversation would make him easy to seek out. He's just out here enjoying a beautiful day 😅

Strategy | 7 - All that movie-watching (and DMing) make him a valuable creative mind for problem-solving, but he needs a cooperative team to be effective. Rescued and recruited by Rupan/Rohan early on in the game ^ ^

Winner type | Disbelief! And everyone’s content and satisfied with him winning. Except Vivian/Vincent, that jealous fool

Loser type | Doesn't mind losing at all! He just hopes he was a good teammate and was glad to have fun ☺️

Jessie

Shooting | 7 - Comes from a family of hunters, girly knows how to shoot.

Stealth | 6 - Familiar enough with woods and stalking prey to be capable of sneaking around. Having too much fun to not giggle and get overly invested in the developing plot of the game. Even more easily distracted by critters and flora than Jack 😅

Strategy | 5 - Oh, she's just here to have fun. She'll go with whatever the person she's teaming up with decides, but can adapt easily enough.

Winner type | Surprised... then elated! Bouncing and happy and it's completely contagious. No hard feelings about a single thing. Convinces Heidi to invite people to the Emerson Estate—it's a hot day and they have a nice pool

Loser type | Same as Jack! Congratulates the winner with a hug because she's sweet like that 🧁

Rain

Shooting | 2 - This... thing is so cumbersome. And ugly. At least it shoots pretty colors.

Stealth | 7 - Small and used to sneaking around different environments and seeking out hiding spots. Their height and frame makes them harder to spot too.

Strategy | 4 - Hide!!! They’re not getting assaulted with paint and pellets!! Especially not after managing to make this ugly jumpsuit look cute?? Waiting it out is perfectly legitimate. Might share snacks if you decide to join them in hiding 😆

Winner type | Falls asleep in an unexpectedly cozy hiding spot and emerges as everyone thought they’d declared the winner. I imagine R and others yelling at them to get their gun while the original winner scrambles to get theirs, just for Rain to win by pure luck of the draw. Won’t stop them bragging about it, though! (I want this spurned runner-up to be Vi bc ofc)

Loser type | "So I can stop holding this thing?" Yawn. "I'm so hungry and bored, we've been at this for hours..."

Rupan/Rohan

Shooting | 4 - Ah, shit. These don't shoot anything like light guns.

Stealth | 7 - They sneak out and around town a lot 😂 They just force themself to be careful about how loud grass and bushes are.

Strategy | 7 - They’re treating this shit like an action movie and banding together a ragtag team of misfits to take down the strongest alliances and players. Savvy enough to reject Gabe’s and Curt’s offers to join, not opposed to strategic backstabs. They're very clearly just as focused on having fun as they are on winning—and playing Predator, which honestly works with Kile runnin around. They even brought war paint and borrowed a tactical vest. Is it mostly packed with snacks and weed? Maybe. Does it prove useful for negotiations? Hell yeah.

Winner type | Raucous celebration, just pure joy and adrenaline ☺️ Celebrates with their team, brags a bit, rubs it into Vi's face, makes fun of Curt, the usual. Then invites allies out to get pizza because it's the obvious next step

Loser type | Mostly disappointed they can't keep playing. They're a little sore about being left out of the action, but soon just start chatting with other marked players about how the game went for them. Plenty entertaining on its own, they want all the details

Vivian/Vincent

Shooting | 5 - They've got a little bit of shooting experience.

Stealth | 4 - They're overly sensitive and hate being in nature. Their skin is sticky, they keep feeling bugs everywhere, they've gotten dirt all over their pants, it's so hot, they keep WALKING into SPIDERWEBS, [flails about, screaming furiously]

Strategy | 8 - They have good ideas, they're just difficult to execute alone, especially since they're getting sunburnt and getting crankier and can't stop swatting at insects 😅 they're one of the first people to figure out that someone's taking out groups from the trees, so they stay solo and try to find a single person to team up with. Really what they need is someone who's a better shot but easy to boss around. They can probably just owe them for an in-school favor...

Winner type | Barely suppressed gloating. Vi somehow finds a way to be an obnoxious winner almost entirely by the look on their face. Once they're in a smaller group, they're passionately discussing the details of the game and happily boasting about their triumphs (while glossing over all of the whining and and slip-ups lol)

Loser type | Booo, such a sore loser. (Especially in the scenario where Rain wins 🤣) If they're outsmarted or outgunned in a clear, transparent way they'll growl and stomp off, then quietly glower and sulk for way too long. If they're double-crossed or beaten in an underhanded way oh lord —they're fighting it to the end. R can't help but get involved either way, reminding them it was a damn game with literally no prize. "C'mon, Vi, chill. You want ice cream? Let's get you ice cream."

Heidi

Shooting | 6 - Some shooting experience.

Stealth | 8 - She's very aware of her surroundings and her body. Perceptive yet quiet. Tactical. All residual traits picked up from her many activities over the years.

Strategy | 9 - Most likely to outsmart everyone. The first one to figure out groups are being targeted from the trees. Goes it alone and only open to trading (unless she sees Curt with Jess in which case she puts a quick pin in her plans to rescue her 😂). She also immediately figures out it's Kile, because ofc it is. Keeps close tabs on what groups are doing, knowing that eventually Kile will come down to ground level to pick off individuals and couples. Predator becomes prey 👀

Winner type | Proud but not boasting. She doesn't need to be. Victory looks good on her, natural and fitting. Thanks everyone for a good game then takes the girls for a long ride in the Cadillac 😎 top down on a bright day, baby

Loser type | Damn. She should have won this. Maybe if she'd... She probably could have... Then she snaps out of it, roped in by the celebratory mood of congratulating the winner. She's over any feelings of frustration or regret after getting to discuss the match with the person that took her out/the winner and there's no hard feelings. If anything this was fun as hell, it should be an annual thing. ☺️

Curt

Shooting | 8 - Some shooting experience and a natural knack for it. Good reflexes.

Stealth | 8 - Curt likes to say he gets along with the woods around these parts. Sneaking around is second nature to him. Really good hearing too. He's an easy target if you manage to seduce him though, having no issue leaving himself vulnerable if it means that kind of fun 😂

Strategy | 7 - Honestly, he's most interested in seeing how long he can get away with using charm and seduction for both protection and double-crossing 😂 Eventually becomes persona non grata and gets all of his ammo stolen by a vengeful mark, barely getting away in the process. Since that jig is up, he finally starts thinking a win might be nice... and so he teams up with the only competent player who would never betray him and also inspires the least vitriol in others: Jessie. What? Is his back-up plan using her as a human shield? No! 😚 Of course not! 👉👈

Winner type | Insufferable and gloating. Rubs it in a lot of people's faces, specifically Heidi, Rupan/Rohan, and any participants who genuinely don't like him. Brags to Gabe (who is completely disinterested in gassing him up 😂), then promises he'll make things up to Jessie (who didn't mind and had fun lol). Then celebrates by asking whoever he's flirting with these days for a quick date—and a ride in the Ferrari. Makes a scene pulling out of the parking lot. Ass.

Loser type | Doesn't care one bit as long as he had fun! And he always finds a way to have fun, it's why he's so carefree 😅

#lovely anon #answered #ROs #scenarios #someone pls confirm that kile is using paint pellets thx #I can totally see myself writing this out as a an actual short story 😂#maybe as a kofi reward whenever I get that set up 🤞🏾#I don't think any of these are incomplete...

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writingwithcolor · 5 years ago

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First of all, thank you for this blog, it has been really helpful for me - also thank you for the efficient navigation. Now to my question: I'm toying with the idea of a white OC who has (or earns) the power to basically alter the structure of things and wants to use that to help with world hunger. They gotta see what they change, so they have to visit the places. They don't want to be hailed a white savior, and change their look - should I use obvious fantasy colors like grey or purple?

Solving World Hunger: Changing Skin to Fantasy Color to Avoid the White Savior

My take: this is absolutely positively going to disrespect Indigenous populations, so long as you have an outsider come in and do the thing. This reads as extremely Western-centric and reminds me of misguided “international development” students who think that just because they have a degree in solving global scale problems, it means they can be experts.

See, the thing about sustainable food practices is, the Indigenous populations of the area have already come up with pretty good solutions. They’ve lived in the landscape for thousands of years, after all, and were pretty scientific and focused on long-term gains instead of short-term profit. It’s about as close to perfect as multiple millennia of improving and testing can do.

It’s colonialist to erase culture in the name of “betterment”

Hunter/gatherers don’t always capitalistically “maximize” their food sources in ways Westerners recognize, but it’s sustainable has been part of their culture for thousands of years. Are you going to allow them to continue their practices, or are you going to say that their culture is wrong and they must be assimilated into agriculture (that might actually be completely unsustainable even if done by magic but you won’t see the effects for 50+ years)?

Anthropologists main role over the past few years have been to elevate the voices of Indigenous people who know what works best for the area they’ve been living in for generations. Outsiders, even the most well-educated outsiders, are going to get it wrong.

You can’t make them Indigenous to get around this, because Indigenous people are not a monolith.

Polynesian practices won’t work in sub-sahara Africa, Iroquois practices won’t work in the Amazon, etc. If you think that one ethnicity can solve the globe’s problems, you need to revisit the concept of expertise.

Eco-fascism is also a thing that happens in environmentalism very quickly, in the form of only certain types of food production/crops are “allowed” to thrive, and capitalism does not like sustainability because sustainability doesn’t exactly turn a profit. The best way to use land is often “inefficient” in the short term, but in the long term will provide a sustained food source even if that system looks much different from what we know.

The Indigenous populations around the globe have already had to deal with people who say their way of life is wrong, which your character is going to end up doing if they are the ones who decide what “the best” is. The Inuit are a fairly high-profile example, with how their seal and whale hunt is targeted; the North is such a place that seal and whale hunting is necessary, agriculture is impossible in the way we know it, and what the North needs is global warming to drastically reverse+ colonizers to stop messing with their ability to eat and for-fun hunters never setting foot in the Arctic again.

The problem isn’t the character’s skin tone. The problem is the fact they believe they can be an authority, when they cannot be at such a scale.

Decolonizing > “Fixing”

I would suggest having your character do decolonization work instead of “fixing” work. Decolonization means dismantling capitalism, restructuring agriculture/horticulture to focus on local species designed to live in the region, allowing populations to return to hunter/gatherer ways, removing invasive species (like the wrong species of earthworms in North America, which actually would need magic to fix), and restoring sovereignty of Indigenous peoples. It also means allowing greenhouses and a degree of sustainable supply chain for those with allergies who can’t eat local.

Indigenous peoples need to be centred in sustainable farming and animal husbandry practices. Their voices and their practices are what need to be elevated, instead of an outsider trying to guess what’s best in such a short period of time.

This means white people will be uncomfortable.

Because white people do not like to give up leadership positions. They don’t like being told they need to let go of power and remove themselves from authority. But they are not the authority on how best to work lands that they have only seen as capitalistic gains. Indigenous people are.

If you want to see the potential journeys this character can undergo, read Colette’s post below.

~ Mod Lesya

Readers will view your character as white

Even as a fantasy color, your “raceless” MC will be assigned white by the majority of your readers unless you put in work to indicate otherwise.

To the story’s world they might be an alien of sorts. To us, they are another white person who is saving the world.

White is seen as the default when you leave it to fill-in-the-blank. Race coding (adding details that would imply they’re from a specific race, ethnic background or culture) is how one avoids this.

Directions you could take

There’s a few ways you could go about this.

A. Make them an actual alien.

You could make them an alien, and actually develop an alien culture that does not parallel or borrow enough from specific cultures to imply they’re a human race equivalent. You would have to work pretty hard at this, as the elements you choose might come from existing regions and cultures. For example, a lot of “neutral” fantasy places are clearly coded with a European flair and no indication that they’re a Person of Color, thus implying white European descent. Then you’re back to square one with white-coded Alien solving the world’s problems.

B. Keep them white.

You could keep them white, but face the implications within the story’s world narrative and the perspective of readers.

Its a heavily discussed topic here, so you’ll find many resources.

White Savior WWC Posts:

How to Avoid Glorifying White Characters

The Mighty Whitey: How to not have a Colonialist Character

Writing With Color - White Savior Tag

The Khalessi Problem (Game of Thrones)

Image: Game of Thrones, the TV series. White woman being lifted up and surrounded by tan and brown-skinned people. Minor spoilers will be discussed below.

Now, I know you don’t want a scene like the one pictured above. That’s why you’re considering they disguise themselves as a fantasy race. But there are some implications that come with a white person who snaps their fingers and solves a community’s problems like it was nothing.

“What, like it’s hard to solve world hunger?”

On the show, she is pretty much worshiped here, but does disrespect their people enough to lose the majority of their respect and be seen as the outsider coming into their lives as she is.

Something similar could happen where she is confronted with unintentional consequences of getting involved. There may be some backlash, mixed feelings, making it so your MC is not completely worshiped for their actions.

What about all of the efforts that people in the community made before your character came along? Might they confront your character, and how would they feel about them?

What if solving world hunger came with a price, and there were other issues that cropped up as a result?

What if the job is not done? As if they helped get it started, but maintaining keeping the world feed isn’t as “snap and done” as it seemed and opened up a new layer of problems that people have to deal with?

Think of how in some tales, when you get your wish from the genie, it may be answered almost too literally and the effects can be disastrous.

C. Make them a Person of Color.

This could still lead to issues too, similar to ones you’d find with the white savior. Just because someone is a POC doesn’t mean they’re immune to disrespecting other cultures and lifestyles, or of patronizing people.

More reading:

Is there such thing as the White Savior syndrome with a Black main character?

~Mod Colette

#white savior #slytherinsangel #decolonization #colonialism #Indigenous Peoples #Indigenous #asks

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sitcomified · 3 years ago

Text

fighting dragons with you

summary: amy gets injured on a case and jake pays her a visit. (pre-canon) word count: 3.5k rating: teen?

read below or on AO3

content warning for minor depictions of violence and general discussions of assault

Amy Santiago wrote her life plan when she was sixteen years old, and revisits it each month like clockwork. She figured out from a young age that if she could clearly define a set of rules to follow to a tee, then she would never fall off course. Most nights, the three inch purple binder lives on her bedside table, where after long days of life-threatening work, she can put everything into perspective. Most days, the plan works out great for her. But she’s not invincible. She still scrapes gum off her brand new shoes and wrestles with her too warm pillow.

It’s not that she can’t deal with unpredictable situations. If anything, being almost comically prepared for every possible situation has made the challenge of taking on these changes that much more thrilling. She knows she excels at tasks that demand quick thinking and efficient problem solving. Hell, that’s why she became a cop.

Amy clocked into work two minutes late that morning. She stared at her watch, already mentally preparing how she would make it up to her squad (even though a quick glance around the bullpen would let her know that she was still the first officer there for her shift.)

By the time her partner showed up nearly thirty minutes late—an occurrence so routine she’d be surprised if anyone even noticed—Amy was already wrapping up her first report of the day. As she reached across her desk for the folder containing crime scene evidence, her partner finally acknowledged her.

“Nice spiderman band-aid,” Jake greeted her, gesturing to her right hand. She sighed deeply. The band-aid in question is nursing a particularly nasty paper cut from when she tried to intercept one of her partner's paper airplanes (probably made from some actually important file) the previous day. Amy rinsed the cut under the precinct kitchenette’s ice-cold water, swearing she’d be fine for the rest of the day, but her finger still stung when she got home and discovered that her only first aid supplies were from the last time her nephews visited.

“Hello Detective Peralta,” Amy replied, trying to salvage any semblance of workplace professionalism. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure if her partner’s retort warranted a response.

“Aw, is that your pet name for me?” he joked, clearly not wanting to drop their banter, “I’m going to call you sugar...nose.” He extended a finger and lightly tapped her on the nose, to emphasize the point.

Amy flinched in response. “Sugarnose?” she repeated incredulously.

“Yeah I didn’t want it to be too sexual, and then I panicked,” Jake explained. Amy half expected him to follow it up with one of the “title of your sex tape” jokes that he was so prone to making, but thankfully, today she would be spared.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Peralta. At his best, he could be just as sharp a detective as she was. The problem was, that was rarely ever his goal. He showed open disrespect for any authority that would dare get in his way, almost as if it were a game to him. On the field, he spent more time trying to portray himself as an action movie star than trying to catch criminals, and she’d be surprised if he actually followed any of the NYPD’s safety guidelines.

Her day went on as it usually did. Finishing up reports, interviewing witnesses, investigating a crime scene—fortunately on her own. Amy had no idea why Captain McGintley was so adamant about partnering her and Peralta. Their approaches to every aspect of police work seemed fundamentally incompatible. Her captain probably just needed someone responsible to babysit New York’s Least Mature Detective (a title he had bestowed upon himself) in the field. It was a horribly sexist and insulting implication that gave Amy flashbacks to a whole childhood’s worth of classroom seating charts and group projects, where she was put in the exact same position.

That afternoon, just as she was getting into the rhythm of responding to the perpetual flood of emails in her inbox, Peralta tore her away from her work to go on a stakeout for a case they were working on, insisting that the new lead was “actually legit this time.”

When Amy left the precinct she was surprised to see that her partner decided not to “ball out” and instead opted for a sensible SUV for their stake out. “Nice ride, Peralta.”

“Thanks, I borrowed it from some guy Diaz is testifying against,” he said smugly. Amy raised her eyebrows in return. Of course there would be a catch. “Kidding,” he reassured her. “It’s the precinct’s, I’m surprised you don’t like have the license plates memorized by now.”

Amy wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved or insulted by that. She had only been there a couple months, surely that wasn’t an expectation; if it was, it was never conveyed to her in the brief amount of training she received. Regardless, she responded, “very funny, but I’m still driving.”

Jake soured with mock offense, “Seriously, Santiago? You think that my driving is more dangerous than that drug ring you busted last month?”

“I’m a detective. I know that I might die on the force. What I’m absolutely not okay with is dying because some idiot would rather play air guitar than follow basic road safety concepts,” Amy said, crossing her arms. On their last stakeout, they almost lost their perp during his particularly enthusiastic rendition of Lose Yourself.

“Too-shee,” he responded, with a smirk on his lips. He was messing with her. Surely, he wasn’t actually that dumb.

Amy corrected him, “you know it’s pronounced touché.”

“Ok nerd,” he replied, and tossed her the car keys. “But I get to stay on AUX.”

She was a bit taken aback by how quickly he agreed to cooperate with her. “You’ve gotta stay focused,” she added, as she climbed into the car. There was a foul smell that she couldn’t quite place. All the more reason to rush this.

“Of course I am a professional, Santiago,” he said from the passenger seat. He reached into his bag and pulled out a giant pack of Cheetos. “Want one?” he offered. She shook her head in disgust.

“Alright, so the informant, Dragos, said the operation is based out of a pharmacy on Atlantic, I assume that’s where we’re going?” Amy asked, as she started the car.

“Toit, and also holy shit is that his real name?” Jake questioned, eyes wide. “That’s badass.”

Amy frowned. “Did you even read the case file?”

“I skimmed it. Your sentences are all so long!” he complained.

“I’m sorry that I’m thorough and I actually follow procedure. Maybe you should take a cue from me, I mean that’s gotta be why McGintley assigned us to this case,” she said.

Jake laughed at her. “I have the most arrests in the precinct,” he bragged. Amy wanted to bring up that arrests weren’t actually a good indication of community safety, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to articulate the problem to him once more.

“That’s just because you make Boyle do all your paperwork,” she retaliated. “If you did everything you were supposed to, you know that I’d be ahead of you.”

Jake stopped fiddling with the car’s radio, and turned to face Amy. “First of all, Boyle loves paperwork. And for the record, I actually asked the Captain to put us together on this case.”

“Exactly, because you knew I would do all the work,” Amy said, smugly.

“No! It’s ‘cause I knew it was a tough one, and you’re obviously super smart.” Amy blushed a little. She assumed that Jake thought as little of her as she did of him. “Plus, I heard you talking to Diaz about how you weren’t getting any good cases,” he continued. She’s surprised, not at what he noticed, but the fact that he actually cared enough to try and fix her problems. It was true that McGintley was underutilizing her—the other day he had her spend an hour finding an anniversary present for his wife.

“Well, thanks,” Amy responded with an awkward smile. “I didn’t think you cared.”

“‘Course, you’re part of the 99 now. Anything for the squad.” he said. Right, Jake was just doing what any good cop would do for their team. He didn’t actually care about her, at least not enough to not get cheeto crumbs on the seat that she’d have to clean up.

Jake points at the car’s speaker system at the next red light. “Hey, do you know how this works?”

“Do you seriously not know?” she teased. It was a strikingly simple set up.

“Obviously not, or else we’d be listening to my sick beats right now.” Jake said. “My car still uses cassettes exclusively and I fear my mixtapes would cause this lame car to spontaneously combust.”

Amy sighed. “Here, give me your phone,” she told him, and plugged in the audio cable. Immediately music started blaring out of the speakers. She recognizes the opening chords instantly and starts laughing. “Is this what you listen to?” she asked.

Jake started frantically pushing buttons on the dashboard, only making the music louder by accident. “No. I swear I don’t know how this got on here.” Amy grinned. It was so rare that she had the upper hand in embarrassing him and she was already thinking of how to capitalize on it.

“Keep it on,” she said, guiding his hands away from the speaker system before he had the chance to break something. “I like this song.” He leaned back in his seat and helped himself to another handful of Cheetos. Amy returned her focus to navigating the complex puzzle of Brooklyn traffic.

Over the revving motors and honking of angry drivers, she heard him begin to sing along. It wasn’t obnoxiously loud and it didn’t feature impromptu parody lyrics. His voice was surprisingly soft, and she wondered if he was even conscious of his singing. She was perplexed by how he managed to focus on nothing and everything at the same time. How he managed to let loose in the most tense situations. Amy couldn’t even bring herself to have that kind of fun when she specifically scheduled it in her planner.

What the hell, they were still a fifteen minute drive from the pharmacy. She joined in with the chorus. He looked at her with a confused, yet happy, expression, and ramped up his volume, and even incorporated his own dance moves. “Damn, Santiago, didn’t know you had it in you,” he said, after they finished the chorus on a tone-deaf harmony.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Peralta,” she replied, raising her eyebrows with feigned confidence.

Jake chuckled and opened his mouth; she assumed to argue, but instead he just continued the second verse. She didn’t know the rest of the lyrics, and she certainly couldn’t decipher them from the dramatic voices he was adding into it.

“Hey isn’t that our guy,” he interrupted, pointing to a man who was standing by the trash cans on the corner, despite his right of way. Amy paused and took a closer look. Surely enough, their perp, Andrei Volkov, was standing there, waiting for the deal they had been told would occur miles away.

“Oh my god,” Amy said, turning to park their car just out of eyesight.

“Luckily he didn’t seem interested enough in the two adult Taylor Swift fans, to notice we’re a police vehicle.” Jake replied. He leaned towards the trunk window to sneak a better view of their target.

“Do you want to call for backup?” Amy asked. “How many guys are there?”

“Looks like about three, and it seems pretty exposed for back up unless they have access to one of the houses,” Jake said, propping himself back in the seat. “I think we should be good.”

Amy paused for a second. Her instinct was always to air on the side of caution, but Jake had proven himself to be more reasonable than she assumed. “Okay, I trust you,” she said.

“Take my lead,” he instructed, before she could argue, and secured his vest as he left the car. Amy followed him out hesitantly, one hand hovering protectively over her radio. They crossed the street while Volkov’s back was turned. As soon as they made eye contact, Jake whipped out his gun, and cornered him against the lamp post. “NYPD, you’re under arrest.” Amy instinctually dove behind the trash can. Through the grated metal she could see both of Volkov’s men pull their guns at Jake from behind his back. She can’t quite recognize exactly which members of the operation they are. He held one hand on Volkov while he turned to face the others. They kept their guns raised in his direction.

“Here’s the deal, come back to my precinct, and I won’t shoot. I’m all alone out here.” Jake kicks the trashcan Amy is ducked behind. Then twice, to get her attention. And again. The Funky Cold Medina, she realized. Amy felt her heart pounding all the way in her fingers and toes.

“What’s the matter with your leg, pig,” one of the men scoffed. She recognized the voice. Apparently Dragos was more involved in the operation than he led on, and had intentionally given her the wrong address. Amy reached for her gun and jumped up, turning to cover Jake.

“Hey, you’re the lady with the thank you notes,” Dragos said, as he lowered his weapon, “almost made me feel bad for lying to you.”

Amy fixed her eyes in his direction, “yeah well, thanks for nothing.”

“That was a pretty weak comeback, Santiago,” Jake muttered from her side. She shot him a nasty look.

“Your partner’s right,” Volkov added, still struggling against the lamppost.

“Nice try but you’re still arrested,” Jake said, as he reached for his handcuffs and began reciting the Miranda Rights. Amy stared down the other two men in the meantime, instructing them to drop any weapons they’re carrying. They obeyed and placed their guns at her feet. Just as they began to stand up, Dragos punched Amy in the face, his ring leaving a deep gash on her cheek. The metallic taste of blood floods her mouth. Her vision was blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, causing searing pain in the open wound.

Dragos started to bolt but Jake managed to trip him and keep him pinned to the ground. He struggled to handle both perps, however, and Amy watched as the third man ran away. She tried to chase after him, but she was too shocked to make it any farther. “Dragos, you’re coming with me,” Jake said, locking the handcuffs in place. “Amy, I’m calling you an ambulance.”

She was too dishevelled to protest.

That night, Amy’s brother drove her home from the hospital where she received seven stitches. Half her face was still numb from the anesthesia. Still, the second she got her phone back, she sent a text to her partner: “LMK if you need help processing.”

Half an hour later she heard her apartment buzzer go off. She paused her episode of Jeopardy, kicked on her fluffy slippers, and answered it.

“Delivery for Lady Amy Santiago,” Jake said, in a terribly butchered British accent through the phone.

“Come up,” she replied, stifling a laugh. The meds had worn her down enough that she could fully embrace his immature humor.

Three minutes later Jake announced himself with a knock on her door. “Alright, so I got you this. Hope you like shitty diner food because that’s all that’s open right now,” he held up two take out bags. Through the semi-opaque plastic she noticed two liters of the horrible orange soda he spilled on her desk once and still couldn’t get the stain out from.

“Yeah that’s fine,” she said, gesturing for him to come take a seat. She braced herself to be tormented for her decor. Suddenly she realized Jake came all the way to her house for her. He didn’t have to be here. Why was he here? “Thanks, by the way. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

He took a seat on her couch and plopped the bags on her coffee table. She never ate there, it was reserved for drinks, at most, but she didn’t correct him. Especially when he was doing her a favor “I know. I wanted to though. I also finished processing Dragos and Volkov, all by myself,” he said.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Amy asked flatly. She peered into the bag and examined the feast he brought: two cheeseburgers, a plate of chicken tenders, one hamburger, a salad, about three orders of fries, and of course the two orange sodas. For someone who was proudly in debt, he sure spent a lot on this meal.

“Cause it’s my fault you’re like this,” he said. Amy wanted to protest, he made a bad call re-backup, but she could have gotten injured either way. “Also you’re so hopped up on painkillers there’s no way you’ll remember this,” he added, cracking a smile. He really wasn’t capable of a genuine moment.

Amy rolled her eyes at him. “It’s not that much stronger than Advill, and memory loss isn’t a side effect,”

“Hmm,” he frowned, “we’ll see about that tomorrow.”

Amy froze. “I hope you’re not here to try anything,” she said, half joking. Jake was a jerk, but she never thought he would stoop that low. Even still, she couldn’t let her guard down that much.

“Oh, God no, absolutely not. I would never take advantage of you—of anyone—like that. Is that what you thought?” Jake stammered, scooching himself away from her on the couch. He looked as if he had seen a ghost or something, and his messy hair only added to the effect.

“I dunno,” Amy said, “I guess I can’t be too trusting.” She took out a container full of fries and handed him one as a peace offering.

“Right, right, men are a nightmare,” Jake agreed through a mouthful of potato. He even didn’t try to distance himself from “other men”, or go with the “but I’d never do that route”. Her chest was heavy with guilt at the thought of making such an implication.

“No, no, no, it’s fine, really. Sorry for accusing you.” Amy said.

“It’s not fine. And you shouldn’t apologize because that’s a real fear. It’s on me,” he replied. She looked at him with confusion. It was rare for guys to understand that much. “And I’m sorry for being such a dick to you these past few months,” he blurted out.

Amy couldn’t believe that the guy sitting in her apartment was the same one who decided to address her via paper airplane for a week, and only stopped when he ran out of papers on his desk. “Hey I wasn’t much better. I was so obsessed with out-doing you, I never went to you for help—” he shot her an expectant glance,“—also I’m sorry for ratting you out all the time.” He nodded, and helped himself to another fry from her container.

“Why are you so competitive?” he asked through a mouthful of potato. She noticed a bit of ketchup on his chin and reached for a napkin.

“I have seven brothers,” she provided him with the stock answer.

“I know that,” he said, “that doesn’t answer my question.”

She pauses. “My parents were always comparing us, so many siblings meant the bar for anything was set super high, I don’t know, that sort of stuff.”

“But why do you care?” he pushed. She hadn’t ever considered that before. The endless treadmill she shoved herself on was just always there. Even when she knew the goals she set were irrational she would just keep running, because the idea of falling off was so much worse.

“I guess it makes me worried, if I’m not measuring up,” she confessed. “I feel like I did something wrong.”

“You know you’re crazy, right?” he asked, smirking at her.

Amy rifled through the bottom of the takeout bag. “Did they give you any mustard packets?” she asked.

“Nah. But, as your self-appointed guardian angel, I will go to the bodega and get you some,” he said, picking up the jacket he threw on her floral carpet.

“You don’t have to do that, really,” Amy insisted.

He looked back at her as if the very notion were ridiculous. “Amy, you just got injured in the line of duty. If all you want is mustard, you can have all the mustard in the world.”

“Thanks, Jake. You’re a really good friend,” she ventured. She waited for a moment, to see how he would respond, hopefully solidifying their friendship. Maybe she was friendzoning advances she wasn’t even aware of. Maybe he was confused, and he was just doing a nice thing for a coworker.

“You too,” Jake said. However he interpreted all the implications, he didn’t let her know. “When I get back we’re watching Die-Hard!” he added as he rushed out the door. Amy smiled to herself as she heard the lock click into place.

#tropetember #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #b99 fic #brooklyn nine nine fic #jake peralta #amy santiago #tropetember day 1 #peraltiago #peraltiago fic #my fic

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scullysexual · 4 years ago

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A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Reposted. Anniversary]

Jewel is one year old! In order to celebrate what is probably my greatest achievement in fic I’ve decided to re-release all the chapters. Not much has changed in terms of story but I’ve gone through and edited/fixed any typos and weird sentences that have popped up now and then. Me and my blog have both grown so much since writing this that I’m sure there’s many of you who have yet to have read or seen this before. So here you have it…my lil baby.

- - -

Chapter One

A cloud of heavy smoke rises from the four vapers, covering the clear sky above and littering it with stuffy grey puffs. People scramble about up and down the dock, trying to keep family members together as they rush to get through the gates. Others stand there gawking at the ship. For those not boarding it’s simply a day out; The greatest ship ever built, they call it and those who live nearby wasn’t about to miss out on such a historic day as this.

Mulder stares at it, surprised at just how wonderstruck he is with it. He never put much stock in the rumours when it was being built believing that she was just going to turn out as all those before her had. That the rumours were just that.

But he was wrong. Never in his life had he seen a ship as large as the one that towers over him.

He turns to Phoebe, reaching out for her hand as she climbs out of the cab.

“What do you think, dear?” Mulder asks as he helps his fiancé down. “Are you impressed?”

To no one’s surprise, Phoebe only scoffs at the ship, its presence not changing her mood in the slightest.

“It’s not as grand as the Mauretania.”

Bill Mulder chuckles behind them, handing their luggage to his man-servant, Krycek as the boy passes them onto a baggage handler.

“It’s much bigger than the Mauretania,” he says, ready to quote every fact he had memorised from the London Herald about the ship. “And much more luxurious,” he adds.

Phoebe only huffs, clearly becoming uninterested in their current conversation.

“Careful Fox,” his father warns him. “Hard one to please, that one.” Mulder only manages an uncomfortable laugh already well aware at the difficulties that come attached to Phoebe Green.

With time running out, they begin to make their way towards the ship, weaving their way through the crowds, Phoebe turning her nose up at every person not dressed to the nines, going as far as to dramatically balk and cover her nose as a lower-class foreigner runs across their path.

“Filthy immigrant,” Phoebe scorns at the innocent man. Mulder tries not to let his disgust show at Phoebe’s words, they’re excused after all and Mulder rolls his eyes at the clear disrespect his people show towards those less fortunate.

“He’s just trying to get to the ship, Phoebe.”

“Yes, well, maybe he should hurry to a bath instead.”

Mulder ignores her words, instead guiding her through the swarming crowds.

“Honestly Bill,” Mulder’s mother pipes up. “We couldn’t have gotten here earlier rather than scurrying around the docks like rats?”

“I was all packed and ready to go,” Bill says and indicates to the pair in front of him. “It was those two who weren’t.”

Mulder sighs. If anything, it was Phoebe who they had been waiting for.

“We did try to hurry, Mother. Phoebe couldn’t decide what to wear.”

Phoebe scoffs once more. “It’s not my fault that you told me to change.”

“I just thought you would get too warm wearing black all day.”

“I’m in mourning Fox,” Phoebe cries. “The weather doesn’t change that.”

Mulder resists sighing again. Phoebe had been mourning for weeks now. The loss of their baby had brought on this spontaneous trip. Phoebe, done with London and “wanting to get away from all the bad memories” all but demanded that they leave for America as soon as possible. A chance for a new start, she told him afterwards. They could get married here and start again. Next thing Mulder knew, he was packing his bag and going back to a country he hadn’t seen since childhood.

He felt trapped somehow, and it had nothing to do with the swarms of crowds. This was inside him. A cage or a hole he’d put himself in. One he wasn’t going to get out of any time soon.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She’s been sitting on this bench for what feels like hours now. The stuffy bar overcrowded with sight-seers only now they’ve done the sight-seeing and want to do some drink-beering.

She was told ten minutes. Ten minutes and they’d be looking for a ferry to take them back to Ireland. Dana was done with the place. Southampton was the same as everywhere else in England they’d been- the same people, the same scorning looks they’d get no matter where they go, the same rejections. It’s only a number of times a person can hear ‘no’ before they never want to hear the word again.

Her brother, however, had other ideas. They only came into the bar to ask if there were any ferries available to take them home and somehow Charlie had managed to be roped into a game of poker by a bunch of Norwegians who barely spoke any English between them.

The game had currently been going on for a lot longer than the ‘few minutes’ she was promised.

Dana sighs, shifting in her seat to get comfortable. She’d order a drink if Charlie wasn’t currently gambling away their last penny.

“You lonely, luv?” Dana turns towards the speaker. His cockney accent thickened by the slurring of his words. “Ye want sum comp’ny?”

He stumbles towards her, catching himself on the rickety table and smiles at his clumsiness. Dana attempts to shuffle further back into the bench, failing.

“I’m fine,” she says turning away and hoping the man would take the hint.

But he presses on.

“Are ye sure?”

“Aye. I’m sure.” She gets up before the man can say anything else, and heads over to Charlie’s table.

The boy is in full concentration mode. Lip caught between his teeth, eyes scanning his cards and the card laying down on the table. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Countless of times Dana has watched him play, never learning from the mistakes he’s made in previous games. This gambling addiction he’s seemed to have developed has cost them a lot in the finance department, a cost that Dana is not too happy about.

She taps him on the shoulder.

“Charlie, I want to go.”

“Hold on a second…”

His tongue replacing his lip, Charlie gives one nervous glance around at his fellow players.

“Charlie, we need to go.” She tries not to sound like she’s whining, he’s her younger brother for God’s sake, a child, she shouldn’t have to whine.

Charlie ignores her, a smile breaking out across his face.

“I’m sorry, lads.” He places his cards on the table, his smile turning cocky as he reaches over to take his earnings. Dana doesn’t miss the two pieces of paper lying on top of the money.

A large hand grasps Charlie’s. His grin falls as he stares in fear at the man.

“He cheat!” The man yells. With his hand still firmly wrapped around Charlie’s arm, he yanks him forward across the table, his other hand a fist that falls down and smashes straight into his face.

“Charlie!” Dana screams as his body falls slump against the oak. The man backs off as the bar grows quiet, ignoring the winnings that fall onto the floor.

With all concern for her brother, Dana rushes to his side, her hand falling on the boy’s face, wiping away the blood that drips down from his wound. You feckin’ idiot…she thinks.

Charlie’s eyes open slowly, despite the pain with smile it back.

“I won, Dana,” he tells her. “We’re going to America.”

Dana frowns, bewildered for the moment at what Charlie could possibly be talking about until her eyes fall to the two pieces of paper that lay on the ground. Realisation sets in and she reaches down to pick them up, turning them over to read.

The words White Star Line stare back at her. She looks from the paper in her hand to the ship outside and back to Charlie.

“You’re…you’re not serious?” she asks, full astonishment.

“Yep. Fecker put his ticket down as payment,” Charlie all but shouts.

Dana stares back at the ticket. She was really about to go to America and board the Titanic to get there.

“You’re gonna wanna be quick,” a fella beside them tells them. He points to his clock on the wall. “Boat leaves in ten minutes.”

At that, Charlie hauls himself off the table as the two siblings begin pushing what money remains on the table into their only bag, not caring for the coins that had fallen onto the floor.

“Hurry up!” Charlie urges her as Dana ties up the bag. “Come on, come on.” He takes the bag throwing it over his shoulder and grabs his sister’s hand, all but dragging her out of the bar.

They weave their way through the people, Charlie up front and Dana falling slightly behind. She fists her skirt in her palms, pulling it up so as not to trip over it, keeping her eye on Charlie ahead of her and praying she doesn’t lose him.

They almost collide with everything; people, a cart selling vegetables, a horse and carriage until finally they make it, out of breath and clutching at their tickets.

“Right, give me your tickets,” the crewman orders, his fingers making a grabby motion. They hand them over and the man all but snatches it out of their hands. His nose turns up when he reads the names.

“Leif and Ingrid Brevik?” he asks, sceptically.

Dana looks nervously at Charlie, worried that they had just ran all this way, got excited for a new future, just to be turned away at the doors once more.

“Aye, we’re Americans.” Charlie tells him doing nothing to mask his thick Irish accent.

The crewman gives once last glance at the ticket and them. Sighing and probably done dealing with steerage who’s English is minimal he accepts the tickets.

“Get in before I change my mind.”

Relieved, the pair rush in just as the crewman shuts the door.

They make their way down the crowded corridor. People stand looking at the various signs that point in directions of rooms, bathrooms, and general communal areas. They argue, an overload of different words muddled together to make one distorted language.

Dana isn’t paying attention, however. Her eyes switch from the number written down on the ticket to the numbers written on the doors either side of them. Charlie had gotten distracted, eyeing up every pretty lass that they walked past and Dana had ripped the paper out of his hands. If he wasn’t going to find their room, she will.

She finds it eventually. 23, near the end of the corridor. Charlie eyes up Room 24.

“Reckon a lass lives in there?” he asks.

Dana focuses on unlocking the door, a sly grin appearing on her face.

“I hope it’s a fat old man with a foot infection.” She looks up only to see the look of disgust appear across her brother’s face.

The door opens to their room. A single bunkbed, a desk and chair with a lamp set upon it, and a chest of drawers are the only furniture that occupy the room.

Charlie shares her sentiments exactly.

“Beats the cargo hold on a ferry.” He throws the bag onto the chair and proceeds to climb to the top bunk.

She stops him before he can claim it.

“Piss off, I get top bunk.” She grips the back of his shirt, yanking him off the ladder.

“Careful!” Charlie cries. “I’m already injured.”

“So move out the way before I injured you even more.”

He does as he’s told, not without pulling a face beforehand, and throws himself on the bottom bunk.

Dana lies down, thankful to be in a bed that actually feels like a bed and not a brick.

“Hey, Dee?” Charlie calls after a moment of silence.

“Yeah?”

“Are you worried?”

Dana thinks for a second, curious as to what Charlie thinks she should be worried about.

“About what?” she asks.

Silence passes and she waits for an answer.

“Nothing,” the boys says. “It’s nothing. We got nothing to be worried about.”

Frowning and profoundly confused, Dana decides to leave it.

Another bout of silence passes and perhaps Charlie’s fallen asleep, at least she thinks that until she hears his voice again.

“Hey, Dee?”

“What?”

“Do you still have that first-aid kit in the bag? My face is throbbing.”

#a jewel beneath the moonlight #chapter 1 #updated #anniversary repost #i write

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baoshan-sanren · 5 years ago

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Part 19

to the fucking NieLan arranged marriage AU I can’t stop thinking about - I’m really temped to name this “How To Communicate With Your Husband: A Narrative in Many Parts by Lan XiChen and Nie MingJue”

In the end, the official Conference is postponed for five days.

XiChen understands the reasoning behind the decision. The sects and clans that had participated in the Sunshot Campaign are determined to have a voice in something that will affect them all for decades to come. It will take time for them to gather, and it will take time for the next Chief Cultivator to be chosen. But this also means that XiChen must choose between remaining in the Nightless City for five days, at his husband’s side, or leaving for QingHe on his own.

MingJue cannot leave. Although he has made it clear that he will not take Wen RuoHan’s place, he seems to have been designated Chief Cultivator in the interim. Suddenly, no decision can be made without him, no meeting held, no task delegated. He is constantly sought after, every hour of the day, and XiChen finds himself both pleased and irritable in equal measure. His husband is a natural leader; he allows no nonsense or sect politics to influence his decisions, and it is exhilarating to watch him plow over Jin GuangShan’s veiled suggestions, Madam Yu’s blunt disrespect, and even Jiang FengMian’s patient monologues. At the same time, XiChen is no longer satisfied with a rushed kiss in the middle of the day, or the few careful ones late in the night, long after he has drifted off to sleep. Although his face heats each time he thinks of it, he wants to be back in the Unclean Realm, in his own marriage bed, with his husband at his disposal. He cannot bear the idea of being apart from MingJue again, so soon after everything that had taken place, and the thought of returning home on his own, of having to wait days to see him again, is too unsettling to even consider.

His desire to remain in close proximity to his husband is far outweighed by his urge to be far away from Wen RuoHan’s gaudy carpets, and gold wall hangings, and red linens; he decides to stay, already certain that he will hate every moment of the five days to come. On the second day however, respite comes from an unlikely source. The remainder of the Nie Sect left behind at QingHe arrives at the Nightless City gates, HuaiSang and MeiLing at their head.

They have arrived to fight, as the last message carried to QingHe had given them no certainty of victory, but all except MeiLing seem relieved to find the battle long over. XiChen is amazed but unsurprised that MeiLing has a full set of armor that is her own, a set that looks ancient and well-used. She does not discard it on her arrival, nor does she discard her saber, a heavy blade far more intimidating than any XiChen has seen so far. Instead, she barrels through the Nightless City with her brothers at her shoulders, determined to battle something after having traveled all the way from QingHe, and easily finds other things to beat into submission.

A-Sang seems slightly more subdued than he had been the last time XiChen had seen him, but his bright chatter and nonsensical observations remain unchanged. He inspects the chambers MingJue and XiChen had chosen to remain in for the next five days, and then, without a pause in some story XiChen is only half-listening to, he begins to alter the space in ways XiChen would have never thought of on his own. The Nie Sect servants are ordered to move the tea table close to the window, another is tasked with stripping the tapestries from the walls, two more are sent running to look for any cloth that is not crimson or gold. In a matter of hours, the space no longer seems as unbearable as it was, and XiChen feels overwhelmed with gratitude. He is not ashamed to admit that he tears up a little bit then, while A-Sang flutters uselessly around him, and sends more servants for another pot of tea and snacks. Afterwards, they sit in silence, and even the Nightless City suffocating breeze feels a little less oppressive.

The next day, the elders of the Lan Sect arrive, and XiChen is forced into numerous discussions that hold no interest. He understands that this is an important decision, and he is not exactly ambivalent about the choice of the next Chief Cultivator. Jin GuangShan has been playing his games, and sowing his whispers among the other sect leaders, trying to secure support even while the dead bodies were being dragged out of Wen RuoHan’s receiving hall. XiChen is very much invested in Jin GuangShan not becoming the next Chief Cultivator. But he is not ashamed to admit that he is invested in little else, and finds himself often nodding along with whatever the elders suggest, daydreaming about the next moment he and MingJue may have to themselves.

For once in his life, WangJi seems to have a better handle on the situation as a whole. He attends every meeting, voices his dissent without remorse, and continuously shows himself be just and honorable in his opinions. At the same time, Young Master Wei can often be seen rushing down the halls with a smile that could rival the sun, his robes ruffled and his hair tangled, obvious bite marks gracing his neck. XiChen is not exactly jealous of his brother, but he thinks it terribly ironic, that WangJi has so easily found the right balance, when XiChen still seems to be struggling with his own.

He does not sleep well.

Some of it is the simple inability to shift around any way he would like, without pain, without having to consciously consider how his body is positioned. He falls asleep easily, but wakes often, and each time he does, it is a little more difficult to drift back under. After three nights of this, he is exhausted by the process. MingJue had come to bed late, as he had every night since the City had fallen. XiChen had been drifting between the thin layer of sleep and deeper dreams, and he vaguely remembers lips brushing over his temple, and a sweet rush of warmth in his chest. Now, MingJue is sleeping peacefully, body curved towards XiChen’s side of the bed.

It is difficult to guess the hour in the darkness, but XiChen thinks the dawn is not too far off. He moves silently around the chambers, foregoing the trappings of propriety and status. There is no hair ornament that does not seem too heavy to bear this morning, and the clothes laid out the night before are too time consuming for his tired fingers. There is a restlessness under his skin again, one that cannot bear the idea of sitting still until the sun rises. Tying his hair off loosely with a ribbon, he shrugs on MingJue’s coat instead, and steps out into the hallway.

He has no set destination, allowing his feet to take him where they will. The palace is silent at this time of the morning, and XiChen meets no one except an occasional guard on the night duty, bowing silently before moving on. It is hard to believe, when faced with empty cavernous halls and deserted courtyards, that almost every sect and clan leader in the cultivation world is already somewhere within the palace walls. The Jin Sect Elders are still due to arrive; another handful of clan leaders who had been stationed far in the southeast, are only now crossing YiLing on their way to QiShan. But even without them, in the daylight hours, the Nightless City already feels as if it is bursting at the seams, loud, and crowded, and stifling. At this very moment, however, empty of noise, stripped of all its garish ornaments, and exposed down to its bare structural bones, XiChen thinks it does not looks so different from the Unclean Realm.

He wonders what it must feel like to Wen Qing, trapped in a place she had escaped once already, seeing the emblems of her former sect so casually tossed aside. As a child, he had loved stories of battles of wars, of empires raising and falling. But he had never thought he would see an entire sect be erased from existence in his own lifetime. He has little pity for Wen RuoHan or those who had followed him blindly, but sometimes he thinks that the cure can cause more pain more than the ailment had, just as Wen Qing’s salve had done on his injured back.

Mind preoccupied with Wen Qing, he finds that his feet had taken him to the south side of the palace, where she had taken the former healer’s chambers as her own. He has no intention of disturbing her. The south courtyard is not nearly as overwhelming as the others, and he thinks he may even settle under the tung trees for some time, and wait for the sun to rise. But the main chamber, where she had set countless bones and wrapped more than one injured limb in the last few days, is wide open and lit up brightly. She is sitting at the work bench, head bent over a a book, another two dozen precariously stacked at her right shoulder. She seems to sense him rather than hear him. Although he had considered simply continuing on, he cannot do so now that she had seen him.

“Is your back giving you pain?” she asks immediately, and he has to smile, that this is the first thing on her mind.

“No more than usual. Sleep is difficult, but the pain is bearable.”

Her expression clearly says that she does not think he is being truthful, and she rises from her seat, moving to slide the door closed.

“Let me see.”

He strips down to the waist easily, as he is only wearing two layers, the outer one quite a bit larger than his own tends to be. Her fingers are careful even as they press here and there, searching for something only she can see.

“It is healing well,” she says after a while, “I believe it may be time to start treatment to minimize scarring.”

While she is riffling through the shelves, he shrugs his his robe back on, and tries to find the right words for the questions that have been chasing back and forth across his mind.

In the end, he has nothing more eloquent than: “Have you been well?”

“I have been busy,” she says, without looking up from the small jars lined up on the counter, “Many of the sect ladies want to be of use, but know nothing of medicine, and are incapable of taking instruction.”

She pauses, then adds somewhat begrudgingly, “The Sect Leader Jiang’s daughter is ... adequate.”

XiChen does not know Jiang YanLi well, and can only vaguely picture her face. He knows she is here, in the Nightless City, but has not seen her yet, and every attempt to remember their last meeting only brings about an impression of a sweet smile.

Wen Qing brings him two jars of ointment, one thick and white in color, and the other slick and clear.

“This one is for your back,” she says, tapping the white one, “twice a day, once in the morning, and once in the evening. If Sect Leader Nie is too preoccupied for the task, I will find the time. It will not eliminate the scarring, but it should decrease the worst of it.”

XiChen is still flustered at the insinuation that MingJue should be the one to apply it, when she moves on smoothly to the next jar, “I highly doubt either one of you came to the Nightless City prepared to stay, or to engage in more intimate activities. I know many of the others have not, as I have given out nearly twenty of these in three days. The supply is already low, so use it sparingly. And I do not think I need to tell you to be careful of your injury.”

XiChen feels his face light on fire, and fumbles the jar, nearly dropping it on the floor.

“I-- this is-- not necessary.”

She is already walking back to her workbench, unruffled by his embarrassment, “No? Keep it regardless. Wen RuoHan had always insisted on the best quality medicine that can be produced, even in this-- particular area. I will wager you will not find one of equal value in QingHe.”

Face burning so brightly that even his eyes feel hot, XiChen quickly tucks away the jars into the pockets of the coat, determined to go no further with this conversation. Still, it takes him a few moments to gather his wits, and stop the unwelcome suggestions his mind insists on providing, of every possible way the ointment could be used.

He clears his throat, “Is-- is your brother adjusting well?”

“As well as can be expected,” she says, eyes back on the book, “Considering he has to live with having killed his Sect Leader without reaping any of the benefits. If such an act can be said to have benefits.”

XiChen is not quite sure how to respond to such a statement. He had thought himself hardened to blunt speech after having lived in the Unclean Realm for months, but Wen Qing still manages to throw him off balance.

“It was kind of Sect Leader Nie to have Nie ZhongHui take my brother under his protection,” she says after a moment, looking up, “Do thank him for this consideration, as I have not had a chance to speak to him yet.”

“Of course,” XiChen says, although he is not aware of any such thing.

He does remember seeing Wen Ning by Nie ZhongHui’s side more than once, but had not given it much thought. She says nothing else however, looking as if she means to continue with her work, and would prefer to do so undisturbed.

He bows, “Thank you, Healer Nie. I will take my leave.”

She snorts at the title, but tilts her head in acknowledgment.

XiChen feels the jar of ointment burning in the pocket all the way back to his chambers.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #lan xichen #nielan #ficlet #m #arranged marriage au pt. 19 #editing editing #will probably have the last two parts published by the morning #since i think i wanna post to ao3 too #and might need to reformat #but yeah #spoiler: they will not be using it #since it's been like 12 chapters of yearning #it'll probably all be over in like 3 embarrassing seconds #lmao

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tammyhybrid21 · 4 years ago

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Do you think that in the Tadeo Jones universe, some people (average or rich people) think living mummies aren't persons but some creatures they can capture and claim as their own 'cuz they have no rights? (as mentioned by Tad in Movie 2) Kind of like the Apex's view of denizens in IT. I think this could be adressed in Tad 3. But I'll be sad because Mummy is going to find the hard way that for powerful people, his feelings and opinions doesn't matter (Twice, if we count the Spanish conquista)

Ohhhh man!

I have been-- stewing over how best to answer this since I saw it yesterday, because part of me has IDEAS-- the other part has a rant that has kind of been building for a while in general when you just examine the movies and the setting and even the actual community represented in reality(that being Archaeologists not-- well)

And LOOK-- I have TEA!

Frustrated, frustrated tea regarding other aspects of how this all could play out that basically boils down to the one major issue that a lot of those groups has is the issue of "But WE all know!" and the we've boxed this in already.

Which-- Debatably, Tad isn't the only one with some issues... But Sara has-- at least insofar as her reactions to Mummy in movie 2, come to terms past her more nebulous in concept repeated line.

"Mummies can't be alive, it's a contradiction in terms"

Which-- actually might be an issue that's just on the question of the life/death binary more than it is actually a question of whether someone is human/a person or not. And we ALL know she's definitely got Major Respect over Tad--

Like, I will write a proper analysis over their "Mummy gives advice/pep talk" scenes later-- but--

Sara doesn't just take it and run how Tadeo does-- and she doesn't get hyped about it either. It's soft and subtle and just ARGH--

Which, okay beside the point, but I have-- so much on this idea of how people view Mummy-- Because let's for a moment consider what Tad actually says-- in answer to Mummy's "What is with you?" and I want to also talk on what people tend to associate with and call monsters... and how... that might also factor into this whole mess.

"Listen you're a mummy, you scare people. In my world you're a zombie!"

Which-- okay, on the surface this is just an on the nose point about how well, Mummy is undead. Ahahah, the living dead and I suppose living mummies are their own form of zombie-- although really it's more like they're cousins as zombies are usually more... in process of decay while mummies are preserved/petrified... Buuuut in any case... not the point here really.

But rather...

Let's talk about how "Monster Movies" come in here. And what zombies tend to be synonymous with nowadays. You know-- for the most part. Mindless, brainless, sometimes killers though not always-- But ultimately-- Does... anyone actually watch zombie shows for in-depth exploration of zombies ever anymore? Aside a few exceptions, and same in games-- Zombies are relegated to just brainless/mindless monsters.

Which--

On the other side of that-- monsters.

Tad never quite uses that word but--

"First, you're not human"

Mummies-- are monsters. In stories and fiction. Used to scare, used to awe, used to add scenery dressing, spooky, freaky, creepy-- and when they're not-- well it's rare. But if they're not the villains, they're not "human". Which think about that for a moment, in all the monster stories we have but a few where the monsters aren't outright put in that position.

But a monster is usually in a story put into one role and box. And if they're not outright there just to be spooky, or the whole new misunderstood monster trope-- which well, that's a whole other thing. But we all know the usual "monster shtick".

Violent, scary, simple, dumb, driven by base impulses, nonhuman, Very, very often as lesser, other, and something to be feared/hunted/destroyed.

And while modern day does move away from that--

ISSUES still prevail.

And I have-- just got to aside here, but like, thinking on this but-- the Phone Mummy sign outside of Tad's window as a child has some... other weird things. Because as a wild aside, my dumb brain has decided to A - B link this with a series I watched on television from 2005-2007

Because of THIS stupid Mummy Scam Artist character. And it's dumb, has nothing to do with the issue of mummies(and other potential beings and creatures of myth and legend) having less rights. But this whole phone billboard-- with the Mummy, it's legit right up this character's kind of scam alley and I may or may not one day just rewatch his two villain episodes to get his personality clear in my head JUST to do a dumb crossover.(And for nostalgia, but that's not news)

BUT--

Advertising does tell us some things already. In how people possibly think and could respond/react.

Yet still-- there is something more I think that we're missing in this conversation on how people will potentially treat the discovery of a living mummy. Or really any supernatural being. If not with fear(which look-- fear the unknown, fear different, fear of monsters), arguably those who're intrigued, interested could be far, far worse.

Also-- I just have, much tea on other responses for even those who might briefly "respect" him. Because look-- Mummy would be a priceless artefact in a way, treasure and discovery all on his own-- BUT also a new potential source of information of a culture that for the most part has been lost and erased by history.

People could and would ask questions.

Whiiich is where I have doubts about how they will accept the answers to those questions. Because here's the thing, for all the Archaeology community loves to act as if they let discoveries speak for themselves, and even I suppose historians-- There are just-- so many times I watch and listen to documentaries and get SO FRUSTRATED-- because they're stubborn IDIOTS, who actually refuse to take in the evidence in front of them of any truths outside of what they're SO SURE has to be the TRUTH!

For those who speak of learning all about history and it's secrets, they're so damn high and mighty to reject anything that doesn't immediately fit with already established "facts". It must be an anomaly, aliens, can't be what we're actually seeing right--

And well even people today interacting-- Like-- I've seen people try to correct someone on the pronunciation of their own name before.

So I am almost certain there would be at least one idiot who'd be all high and mighty and just-- Mummy has LIVED it. It's his culture he grew up in and some idiot speaking over him saying his lying, which I just-- I am certain would happen(but probably not in canon because who would DARE?!)-- Just "EXCUSE ME?!"

Which is it's own kind of disrespect and hell, crash Tad's pillars again. Yes please!

Which... on that account--

I kiiiind of want to talk about how Tad needs a smack on this... and that wake up to the truths of the high and mighty and bloody prideful issues of the community. BUT more than that-- I actually want to think about that point you made about how Mummy's supposed transformation in movie 3 comes across and the further themes of this question of humanity and rights is in regards to this whole issue.

Because yeah, there's the issue, front and CENTER.

The question/implication of this resembling Ammut, and implied loss of humanity. Along with the fact that Tad's the likely TRUE CENTER of the curse-- since he's the idiot who opened the sarcophagus in the first place...

WHICH CAN I JUST SAY--

There's a very good possibility in regards to that issue-- potentially having to do with some of Tad's more... subtle issues. Or even the ones that are close to the surface and yet not. I've screamed already on Tadeo's Internalized Ableism... along with some small nods to Mummy's own less severe cast with that but-- This is directly playing into that image of monsters and nonhumanity--

And I could probably add an additional few pages of speculation onto this but--

I actually am... also worried for the pets. If only because uhhh, have you seen the original two Tadeo Jones shorts from before it become movies? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XxhNMbpE2A & https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoJBzI2AUOw

I mean not assuming anything, but I can definitely believe they wouldn't be above having that threat present at the least.(I mean just that second one... with what I guess is concept-Jeff) Even if Mummy is most definitely going to be the one at the MOST RISK. But with that-- comes the question of humanity.

And while yeah-- I do imagine, all too easily there will be many people more focused on the discovery-- I think there's an interesting mess that Tadeo is going to be FORCED to confront with this-- in how he has that displaced view.

Because here's the weird thing.

I've kind of mentioned it before but not really expanded or explained very clearly-- but for all of Tad's issues... he cares about Mummy probably more than he even really realizes. It's in small to big things as well. Again-- for all his trash behaviour in movie 2, I do think a lot of it is very, very misplaced attempts at some form of protection...

Which I also really want to at some point make a post that's just...

"Tad's I'm Helping moments and how they made things worse for everyone"

But that's for later... For now...

I kind of want to grab a few things.

"You're already dead, RUN!"

I also actually counted how quickly he ran back to Mummy for this moment, and it's LITERALLY two seconds, from when Mummy collapses to Tadeo's check on him. Also I'd like to mention with this-- he's supposedly tunnel visioning on Sara(and he ruins it within the next scene pretty quickly)

...

And for all they're kind of dumb decisions.

DEBATABLY-- when he's trying to hide Mummy.

"Hide"

Ugh-- BUT Tadeo has a very... complicated issue here really. Because yes-- Tad very much has that nonhuman issue, but he CARES. And then-- there's how the whole Ammut thing feels set and the symbolic meaning there(ALSO INTERESTING SARA SEEMINGLY ISN'T CAUGHT BY THAT). But here's the thing--

With Ammut kiiind of come those scales and the feather.

It's not like that mythology isn't unknown-- but more to the point-- it feels kind of like force Tad to confront his mixed up view. On Mummy's humanity or lack of-- But really as the audience Mummy feels the most human at this point in time-- whiiich we can get into a debate on what even is human nature later-- but--

I am kind of hoping that we get a callout of a number of things regarding Tad's behaviour.

With some primary focus on this dynamic between him and Mummy and really seeing how he responds to that idea that Mummy is nonhuman to really be thrown into full view and scope. And listen...

You cannot cheat the scales.

...

As an aside generally, if he is turning into a form or version of Ammut even if initially the community is a danger because he's a living mummy that creates a whole other issue of how he'd be viewed as a danger due to the role that's possibly growing more and more of an instinct.

But yeah... I will probably now make a more formulated rant on this later, or like, minor expansions on the topic but-- yeah.

I have been CHEWING on these thoughts, ideas and concepts for a while.

With additional tea. Because when people think they know something too often they refuse to see differently.

(Also at some point I am going to make a personal rant on duality verses binary due to insistent terminology issues I have but ugh)

#THybrid Responds #THybrid Jones #Tadeo Jones #Mummy(Tadeo Jones)#Sorry about making this a rant #But I literally mused ALL DAY #So you get 10 pages worth #although I still theoretically have more #because this is a nuanced concept #and I have a lot of feelings #but I don't want to get too deep into some of my theories with movie 3 yet #because plunnies #araminakilla20 #Life and Times of Juniper Lee

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therebloggerbird · 5 years ago

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World of Warcraft Trailers RANKED

Because I’m incredibly bored and needed something to do. I played WoW briefly back during the Wrath era, and still like to keep up with what’s going on in that IP once a year or so. But I’ve always been really impressed with Blizzard’s cinematic trailers. So I have them ranked here, based on my personal preferences. Bit long under the cut, but I’ve still tried to keep things concise overall.

9. Mists of Pandaria

I almost feel like Mists of Pandaria gets a pass because in many ways it doesn’t feel like it “fits” with the others. Even the art style looks “off” to a degree. What’s with the strangely bara-looking characters? Overall it’s a pretty tight and decently crafted cinematic – Blizzard is very good at making these trailers even at their worst, as we’ll see – but it feels disconnected from the larger world. I can even overlook the whole kung fu panda concept to just say that the weirdly humorous and cartoony affect doesn’t seem to hit, even by the admittedly cartoony standards of the whole IP. Just kind of silly.

8. Shadowlands

“Icecrown.” This is where I wish I could review these in reverse, but I always like to count up rather than down in list reviews. Shadowlands is the culmination of a trend that can be seen from Legion through to the present in terms of Sylvanas Windrunner’s character progression. Right off the bat this trailer has a big setup – we’re returning to Icecrown Citadel, one of the most memorable and important locations in the entire series. While the full extent of her fall is not made clear until later, we can see that old Sylvia is clearly going the Garrosh Hellscream route of turning into a villain by popular demand. What follows is a very stupid action sequence. Is it cool looking? Of course it is, the budget on these things is ludicrous. It’s still stupid, however. Sylvanas might as well have dealt with the OG Lich King by herself, along with pretty much every other raid considering how untouchable she is in this showdown. More than that, the disrespect to Bolvar Fordragon, who I believe was never seen again after the end of Wrath, seems a bit harsh. The ending leaves more questions than it answers, and not entirely in a good way. The concept of the “Shadowlands” as given later doesn’t seem bad, but you’re telling me nobody thought to do this with the Crown beforehand? It’s a bit out of nowhere.

7. Battle for Azeroth

Battle for Azeroth’s cinematic trailer suffers from having come after the trailer for Legion. Legion’s trailer is incredibly over-the-top in a very endearing way, and BfA takes a step back from that. I get that it’s probably an homage to the early days of WoW, but considering how Legion showed how far the world had come in many ways, BfA seems kind of dull and same-y. Siege towers? Really? When you have legions of magical air-dreadnoughts? It also shows the ongoing negative trend with hero characters in the franchise. Nobody gives a damn how powerful the “main characters” are in a game about the PLAYERS going around and having adventures. And if they do, I’d still ask who on earth these stupid schmucks are who sign on to be a part of the Alliance and Horde line-infantry at the very least. Sylvanas shows off an early taste of what’s to come in terms of her decline, and Anduin is kind of a funny character to me. Look at this child they put in a set of Warhammer space marine armor. Who let him onto the battlefield? Hand over command to the werewolf and protect this poor kid!

6. Cataclysm

Cataclysm goes with a good trend you can trace back to the Burning Crusade in focusing on the villain. That’s good framing in an RPG. The problem for me at least is that Deathwing’s voice lacks something. He sounds like a bit of a dullard, and while his voice is deep it lacks resonance and sounds a bit tinny. Compared to the narrations in other trailers, it’s just not as good, even if it isn’t bad. The visuals are great, however, and the way we’re shown the world being destroyed clearly communicates a “the world will never be the same” vibe in a very direct and visceral way. Overall not a bad trailer, but just a bit basic and weaker when compared to the top performers.

5. Legion

I like this trailer the more I watch it, because to me it’s probably the purest distillation of what Warcraft actually is. Every character in this trailer looks like they could be a player, not a “protagonist” or an “NPC”. The dynamics between the big, crazy, chunky character models and the very cold and realistic lighting makes for an amazing image. I always wondered what the demand for a live-action Warcraft film was when they have cinematics that look like this. This trailer has some great action, balanced yet bombastic, and also features Infernals, which are always cool. As said before, the sheer scale of everything puts BfA to shame, yet it doesn’t feel as silly as something like Shadowlands. The biggest problem with this trailer is that Varian Wrynn’s voice just isn’t that impressive. He gives a great speech, for sure, but he still just sounds like “a guy” and doesn’t exactly have the pipes of a Menethil. The line “I’ve been slow to trust” as he sees Sylvanas come through the fog is pretty hilarious in retrospect.

4. Burning Crusade

You are not prepared! A classic, and many people’s favorite. Burning Crusade doesn’t really have a “plotline” within the actual trailer, but the visuals are all very cool nonetheless. Special mention goes to the draenei paladin, who looks amazing and whose motions seem to have so much more weight than anything else in the trailer. The rest of the clips are impressive, and there’s a bit of humor thrown in as well. Of course, the big showing is from Illidan, who gives a fantastic little speech brimming with tension and gravitas. I’d maybe consider #4 and #3 on this list tied in a lot of ways.

3. World of Warcraft

The vanilla cinematic trailer benefits from novelty and a good sense of focus. Opening narration (by who, I don’t know) provides us with everything we need to know about the state of the world and what we’re jumping into. The faux-Latin orchestral sting right afterwards makes for a stunning opening to the visuals, and we’re then treated to a very lasting impression of Warcraft’s aesthetics. All the action is good, with special mention to the Infernal summoning, and there are very few weak points in the trailer. There’s no “narrative” but one isn’t really needed, as we’re trying to sell people on exploring a world rather than investing in a plotline just yet.

2. Warlords of Draenor

Warlords of Draenor is an incredible cinematic adaptation of one of the most important bits of Warcraft backstory. The execution of this trailer is incredible, and again makes me question the necessity for an actual live-action film. We have big, baritone-voiced characters brimming with detail in a very tense and dark moment, followed by explosive action. Everything looks good. Grommash looks cool, Gul’dan looks sinister, and Mannoroth is absolutely fearsome. The dialogue is overblown and over-dramatic in the absolute best of ways, and is made better by every single character having voices that bottom-out the register. Mannoroth’s death is a little quick, but doesn’t really need to last that long, and all the musical and visual notes are beautifully synced. Even Garrosh gets a cool showing, and the trailer ends with a dramatic rise that is one of the best examples among all the trailers. The actual idea behind having an alternate-history timeline plot in Warcraft is a little wonky, but I feel like this trailer sells the idea better than the actual expansion did (from what I hear).

1.Wrath of the Lich King

The grandmaster, the pinnacle. “My son.” I am absolutely biased. Wrath of the Lich King is not just a great Warcraft trailer, its a great trailer by any standard. Intense narration that really builds up the scene coupled with a fantastic soprano opening to the trailer proper. This is another trailer that does a great one-scene bit, and is also similar to Legion in that it contrasts some very subdued visuals with some very over-the-top ones. You almost question whether or not this Dark Lord looking character is the villain, if you didn’t know the backstory of Arthas, with how soft the start of the trailer is. The consistent dynamic where his dead father will narrate some virtue, followed by the Lich King displaying the opposite is great. “Exercise restraint” with the summoning of the undead dragon Sindragosa, followed by “stirring the hearts of your people” with a shot of the undead horde is a great progression. And the trailer even manages to end with some heart-pumping intensity while still remaining very subdued. There’s a reason why, even when I’m not entertaining any feelings of nostalgia for Warcraft, I still go back and watch just this trailer. It’s a fantastic piece of art all on its own.

#warcraft #wow #world of warcraft

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commentaryvorg · 5 years ago

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Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 6.11

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

Last time in trial 6, Shuichi’s pain over losing his friends reached breaking point as Maki was manipulated into sacrificing herself, causing him to finally realise how real they still are (and by extension how real Kaede and Kaito and the others were, even if he didn’t mention it directly), he figured out that these very efforts to overcome suffering are what the audience (supposedly) wants from them and stood up against it, the vast majority of the audience clearly didn’t actually want such a meaningful storyline as they stopped caring about Shuichi in favour of Keebo’s hope nonsense, a far-too-unreasonably-tiny fraction of audience members maybe started to see that Shuichi had a point, and Keebo finally realised that his inner voice is the bad guy and started ignoring it, giving us Shuichi back as our real protagonist again.

Shuichi has decided to abstain from voting (for reasons that he really shouldn’t be so sure will actually end Danganronpa), so now he just needs to convince his friends to do so too.

“Makoto”: “H-Hold on, everyone. If we keep thinking, we can find a better ending and—”

Shuichi: “Himiko, Maki, will you abstain from voting with me?”

Hah, I love Shuichi completely ignoring her bullshit and getting to the actual point. Now that he’s found his strength again and knows exactly what’s up, he is not sitting through any more of her pointless nonsense.

Shuichi: “Himiko, we can put an end to this insane killing game. We’re going to use our lives to end this madness!”

Himiko: “Use our lives…?”

Shuichi: “But Himiko… you have to choose, okay?”

It’s lovely how Shuichi makes it clear that this is still her choice. He’s asking his friends to choose to kill themselves to end the killing game – of course that’s a huge thing for them to do, so he doesn’t want to be forcing them to do it if they’re not genuinely okay with giving up their lives for this.

(It’s a lot like how Kaito was. He never forced people to agree with his philosophies and advice. He’d say his bit in the hope that it’d inspire and persuade them, but in the end he always gave people room to choose to buy into his words on their own.)

Shuichi: “Only those who have found the truth can choose their destiny!”

This is something Kaede said to him, during their elevator ride to the first trial! (Admittedly this is a different wording than Kaede used, probably thanks to lack of localiser communication, meaning I never picked up on this until literally right now doing the commentary. But still!) He’s using the strength his fallen friends gave him to do this!

And then Himiko gets to be the protagonist for a little bit! I love that the narrative does this. This here is the actual Danganronpa-ending moment of the real protagonist inspiring his friends to make a choice, the thing that Keebo’s Mass Panic Debate was a cheap inferior imitation of. But instead of just making it about Shuichi shooting some kind of bullet at them, which would almost kind of seem like he’s forcing them to change their minds, we get to play this as Himiko and Maki, as they make up their own minds and decide on their terms to agree with Shuichi!

It’s also just lovely that they briefly get to be protagonists, because they are, even though Shuichi has been the protagonist we’ve been following. “Each of you are the heroes of your own stories! So act more like it!” Kaito was so right to say that and so good to see everyone around him that way! Everyone’s story is important!

Himiko: (If we don’t stop this killing game, these tragedies will keep happening… Tenko and Angie… wouldn’t want that!)

And it’s nice to see in Himiko’s thoughts here that she’s still thinking about Tenko and Angie and what they would have wanted.

“Gundham”: To choose death is to blaspheme against life itself!”

…

“Sakura”: “That would be a meaningless death.”

(Tsumugi is still terrible, but I like that she chose to use these two characters here who had philosophies and stories that are relevant to this idea.)

Himiko: “Even if I am a fictional character, my life is real… That’s why killing games are fun, right? It’s fun to see two lives clash, right?”

This is presumably meant to be justification as to why the in-universe audience is okay with watching this happen to actual real people and couldn’t settle for just literal fiction. But this particular reason doesn’t really make it any easier for me to buy this. In actual fiction, it’s fun when lives are on the line because it gives things high stakes and keeps the story tense. But that doesn’t need real lives to be on the line to do that – simply using the suspension of disbelief and thinking about how it’s real within the completely fictional universe is enough for that. Using actual real people who really die should just make the whole thing extremely sick and tasteless and no longer fun at all to watch.

And clearly this audience mitigates that for themselves quite a bit by telling themselves “oh it’s fine because they’re not really real people right” – but in that case, it’s essentially equivalent to them watching fiction anyway, so the supposed fun of watching “real lives” clash would also be lost, no?

There’s a much more appropriate potential reason for why this audience prefers this kind of “real fiction” over actual genuine fiction. Using real people means things aren’t entirely scripted by a writing team, which means that more unexpected and exciting events can happen than if everything was truly fictional. And in that vein, it could still be possible for them to be telling themselves that the characters are only “real” in the sense that they act outside of their creators’ expectations, kind of like an AI simulation can do unexpected things that a human wouldn’t have imagined, but they’re still not real people with real lives so it’s fine, right? (Man, Keebo’s robot issues could have been made so relevant to what everyone else is now going through.)

It is still a stretch no matter how you try and spin it, I admit. But ultimately, the fact that people happily watch real death games is fundamental to the basic premise of V3’s outside world, so we’ve just got to accept it. Kind of like how Junko having managed to spread her despair to apocalyptic levels was pretty difficult to buy but necessary to accept anyway because that was the whole point of that outside world.

Himiko: “So Tenko, Angie, and all the past victims can rest in peace…”

Aww, Himiko. I wonder if she might be thinking about this fairly literally, too. She was willing to do the seance to speak to Angie, so she may well believe that they have some kind of spirit that’s not going to be able to rest unless nobody ever has to go through what they did again. And by “past victims”, she’s not just talking about the other victims of this particular game, because it isn’t only about them. This is about everyone who’s suffered in every single real killing game in the past, who fought so hard to end it only for their efforts to ultimately be meaningless, until now.

“Himiko, don’t die!!!”

Huh, even Himiko has some fans! And this one actually seems like a reasonable person, not wanting the character they like to die.

“Himiko hats are nearly sold out!”

…Man, that’s so completely realistic and understandable but also so fucked up. Himiko’s identity is just being sold as a costume that anyone can wear and use to pretend to be like her even though she’s a real goddamn person who never consented to this. Her outfit was originally designed by Tsumugi, sure, but she didn’t know that and has always felt like it’s hers and a part of her identity. I bet this has happened a lot for everyone who’s died, too. When the three of them escape, they’re probably going to sometimes bump into people casually cosplaying their dead friends like that’s not incredibly gross and messed up. Maybe Tsumugi is onto something when she says that it’s wrong to cosplay a real person – not because it’s disrespectful to the act of cosplaying, though, but rather because it’s disrespectful to the person and their loved ones.

“Himiko’s eyes are open.”

It’s not certain, but… this person might get it? They might be acknowledging that Himiko is making the right choice and this is what needs to happen.

“Is it our fault?”

Yes! Yes, this is your fault, and you deserve to be feeling bad about it, and you should be trying to do something to fix it!

“I’ll end the killing game.”

Maybe this person means what they’re saying, too. Maybe some people are starting to come around. But even if they are, they are still only a tiny, tiny minority. I’m pointing them out because they’re worth noting, but the majority of commenters are still very not on board with this.

“i wanna protect Shuichi <3”

No, you don’t. If you really want to do that then you’ll stay the fuck away from him.

“Imposter Byakuya”: “Perhaps that thought is just another work of fiction, following along my outline.”

Tsumugi: “It could be a part of my script, just like Maki falling for Kaito, y’know?”

Tsumugi seems to have given up on persuading Himiko out of this and is now targeting Maki. It’s not just about the Kaito thing – the entire idea that her thoughts and actions have just been decided for her by someone else and she never really had any of her own agency is something which is deeply relevant to Maki’s issues, and that’s been tormenting her a lot in this trial already. Tsumugi does appear to understand that this idea is likely to shake Maki the most – maybe I should be giving her a little more credit than I was earlier. Or maybe she’s only realised this because of the way Maki reacted earlier.

Tsumugi: “Cuz if none of you vote and I do, then I’ll be the only one who survives! Doesn’t that sound exactly like something the big bad mastermind would come up with?”

That’d honestly be more of an actual “despair” ending than the everyone-lives-boringly-in-the-academy ending she’s actually pushing as the “despair” option for the vote.

Not that that should make it an entertaining ending that the audience would want either. What’s most fun about despair is the moment when characters lose hope and fall into it, and then sometimes if that despair then causes them to do awful things because they don’t care any more, like when Maki was willing to get everyone else killed in trial 5. But usually, the part after falling into despair is simply boring, such as earlier in chapter 5 when everyone had seen the outside world and lost all motivation to do anything. And a despair ending where everyone but the mastermind dies is definitely the boring kind.

Maki: “…”

Maki’s wincing. Tsumugi’s argument makes enough sense to her that she’s starting to doubt herself. She still hasn’t quite shaken off the feeling that their goal should be to “defeat despair” by killing the mastermind, even though that’s the thought that was manipulated and written into her.

Shuichi: “It’s okay, Maki. Believe in me. And believe in yourself, just like you believed in Kaito.”

Maki: “Believe… in myself?”

This is what Maki’s entire character arc comes down to in the end: she’s been gradually learning to believe that she has worth as a person. Not only that she deserves to have friends, but that her feelings and desires and choices are important and worthwhile and hers. Kaito believed that about her from the very beginning and never doubted it for a second even after learning her secret. Maki can believe that easily enough about everyone around her, especially Kaito and Shuichi after all they’ve done for her. But the hardest thing for her is still believing it about herself.

Shuichi: “That’s why you have to fight, even if you’re scared. Because you have that strength.”

Maki is definitely still scared to believe in herself, even though she has the strength to do it by now thanks to Kaito and Shuichi’s support. It’s a little surprising that Shuichi is saying this, though, because he never used to properly see Maki as “weak” like he was, not when her type of weakness was so very different to his. So I wonder if Shuichi is partly thinking about and saying this to himself here.

Shuichi: “Come on, it’d be a lousy story if the hero gave up so easily!”

And this is something Kaito said to him! A lot more word-for-word this time (except Shuichi swapped the “crappy” for “lousy”). Kaito was saying that about himself at the time, but that doesn’t mean it can’t also work as a sentiment for everyone to hold onto. Everyone’s the hero of their own story, after all!

It’s a shame that Maki doesn’t actually know these are Kaito’s words because this was from the hangar conversation where Shuichi and Kaito were alone. But I’m sure she can figure it out anyway – Kaito was always the one to talk about heroes, after all.

(Also, here’s yet more emphasis of the fact that Shuichi and his friends are making a really good story here, and why in the hell is this not what the audience wants to see?)

Maki: (My desire to end this killing game may be fictional…)

Makiii, why would you doubt that. Anyone who has an ounce of sense would want to end the killing game; people not being horribly killed any more is objectively a good thing!

Maki: (All of that might be implanted as well… Just like my feelings for Kaito…)

Bullshit, Maki Roll. Don’t listen to her manipulation. You made it very clear yourself that your feelings for Kaito came from the kind of person he was and everything he did for you, and all of that was real! You’re the only one who knows exactly how you came to feel that way about Kaito, so you should know better than anyone else that that was all you!

(And even if her feelings were implanted (which they still definitely weren’t) that wouldn’t make them any less real now that she’s feeling them.)

Maki: (Everything is fiction. A story written by someone…)

Only some of it was written, not everything! Listen to what Shuichi’s been saying about how real you all still are!

Tsumugi: “Even your thoughts are works of fiction.”

…That is not how thoughts work, Tsumugi. Maki has a real brain that is really thinking those thoughts. Flashback Lights can influence them to some extent, but you cannot possibly have written every single thing that is going through her head.

Shuichi: “It’s because of everyone’s sacrifices that we’ve come this far. Their deaths have to be more than just fiction…”

Of course they are, because they really died! Even the ones who were always scripted to die, like Kaede and Kaito – that doesn’t make the fact that they died any less real!

Maki: (I’ll end this killing game… I’ll believe in my feelings!)

Yes, Maki! You are a person and your feelings and desires are yours and they matter! Screw anyone who tries to tell you otherwise!

Maki: “I will believe in myself!”

This is Maki’s voiced line when she shoots the bullet of agreement at Shuichi, and it’s lovely. For her, this isn’t just about ending the killing game; it’s about finally pushing herself to believe for sure that her feelings are important and finally, finally reaching the culmination of her character arc, here right at the end of chapter 6.

Maki: “If I can’t believe in my feelings, then my existence will have no meaning.”

And you’d just be a puppet doing whatever awful things other people want from you and never having your own life. You don’t want that any more, right, Maki Roll?

Kaito would be so, so proud to see her here. He’d be just as proud of Shuichi too, but in that case, it was more like Kaito already saw Shuichi as the hero he’s being now, even if Shuichi didn’t see it himself. With Maki, though, Kaito always believed she had the potential to reach this point, but I think he also knew she hadn’t quite reached it yet while he was still alive. So he never got to see that in the end, and that’s such a shame. It would have made him so happy to be here for this.

Maki: “If we can change reality, then we won’t be just fiction… Our lives will have significance.”

The camera pans to Kaito’s death portrait here, suggesting that Maki is thinking of him and that this’ll mean his life has significance too. If Maki gave up and decided that everything she’s gained from Kaito was just meaningless fiction, then it really would be like he never had any significance. The idea that he’d just die for nothing without having had any impact at all was exactly what Kaito was so terrified of when he realised he was dying. But Maki’s not going to let Kaito’s fears come true. He’s going to live on through his sidekicks and be remembered as the life-changing hero that he was, just like he deserves to be.

(oops i’m doing myself a very big emotion again)

Maki: “And hopefully… my feelings will have significance, too.”

They already do if you decide they do, Maki! Nobody else needs to decide that for you but you! The only thing that matters is what you want to believe!

{Later addendum edit: Turns out that while doing this commentary, I missed a set of audience comments that were only on-screen for literally two text boxes at around this point. Since I spotted these and copied them down way later than I wrote this commentary post, I wasn’t really in the commentary-flow mood of picking out individual ones to rag on, so instead, in this addendum edit, you get literally every one I could see.

LOL are we the baddies?

Why does Keebo exist anyway?

Maki, too…

I’m gonna cry ;_;

For Shuichi’s sake <3

Let’s stop.

If Maki dies, I’m out a million bucks.

Where’s the hope vs. despair?

lol jk… I was wrong

I’m starting to feel guilty.

I’m starting to get into this.

im triggered by suicide mentions

The characters’ lives…

i’m 12 please visit my channel

I wanted to keep watching

super lame if they committed suicide

They remind me of my daughters

if it’s not fun, it’s not Ronpa!

I bolded the ones that indicate a few of the audience members at least vaguely acknowledging that they’re in the wrong… and you can see how much of a minority they’re still in, even at such a late point in this trial. Geeeez.}

“Hiro”: “Man, why do you guys wanna die so badly!?”

Shuichi: “It’s not that I want to die! We fought so hard to survive… Of course we don’t want to die. But it’s not just about us.”

The thought that they’re all going to sacrifice their lives after everything they’ve been through is heartbreaking when you think back to the fact that Kaede and Kaito and the rest of their friends all desperately wanted them to survive and get out of here. It almost feels like Shuichi’s betraying their wishes right now. But the thing is, this has become so much bigger than just them and just this one killing game. This is about everyone who’s ever suffered and died in one of these awful games, and everyone who ever will if they don’t stop this right here. If the only way to get it to stop is to sacrifice themselves, then that is worth it. And I think their fallen friends would be able to accept that too, if they were still here to see this.

Shuichi: “Everyone who died in the killing games felt the same way. They were all desperate to live. They wanted to survive. For themselves… and for someone else. That desire… isn’t fictional to us! That pain isn’t fictional to us!”

I appreciate having a little more focus on how Shuichi has realised that none of them were ever really fictional in any meaningful sense of the word, including his friends he’s lost, and that everyone really meant everything they did and really felt all of that pain.

And the way he says “killing games”, plural, indicates that he’s thinking of every past killing game as well. Neither we nor Shuichi have seen any of those games, but we can use this one and these characters we knew as an example to imagine that everyone from those previous games must have felt that same kind of pain and suffering and desperation to live. This is for them, too.

Tsumugi: “As long as the world wants killing games, Danganronpa will not end!”

Shuichi: “Then we have to change it!”

Tsumugi: “There’s no way you can change it! Fiction could never change the real—”

Keebo: “You don’t believe in the power of fiction?”

It’s a little odd to me that it’s Keebo who cuts her off by saying this. The person in this room who clearly believes most strongly in the power of fiction is Shuichi, with everything he’s been saying here, and appropriately backed up by the fact that he likes novels. Meanwhile, nothing has ever indicated that Keebo is a particularly avid reader or has any investment in the topic of fiction himself.

This would work if Keebo went on to cite some of the things he’s still been hearing from his inner voice that show how much Danganronpa has affected and changed people’s lives, but he doesn’t do anything like that. Not helped, of course, by the fact that this audience is not even remotely coming across as the kind of audience that has actually had its life changed by this fiction. Keebo is just so much missed potential.

Keebo: “If fiction has the power to touch people’s hearts, then that power can change the world! That is what I believe!”

Instead he’s just waxing lyrical about fiction in general with no indication of what brought him to feel this way and believe this so strongly. This is a good sentiment, but Keebo’s use of it here just feels forced.

(You know who else other than Shuichi would very believably be a strong advocate of the power of fiction? Himiko! She’s presenting a fiction to the world all the time, all for the sake of giving people smiles! If her magic makes people smile even though it’s really fictional, then that means that it’s her fiction that’s doing all the real magic! The fact that things that we know full well are completely made-up can nonetheless draw us in and make us want to pretend it’s real and feel genuine emotion really is just freaking magical, and that goes for stories just as much as magic tricks.)

(…Not that Himiko would actually admit her magic is fiction, but I can see her getting this idea across by saying something like, “My magic is definitely real, but fiction can be almost as powerful as magic, you know!”)

Tsumugi: “Are you serious?”

Maki: “Are you getting flustered? Your costume changes are less frequent now.”

Hah, I like Maki calling her out on that. That’s the kind of thing it’s supposed to be my job to point out, but honestly I might not have even noticed the significance of that here without Maki’s insight.

“Nagito”: “But what about hope?”

“Junko”: “What about despair?”

Keebo: “Do whatever you want with hope and despair.”

I love that they all just do not give a fuck any more. Even Keebo! Honestly, him having finally realised that all this hope and despair stuff is bullshit is the biggest character growth we’ve seen from him this whole game.

Monokuma: “…Voting Time? No! Not yet! This killing game will continue!”

And now we get the sequence where Monokuma and Tsumugi keep trying to force Shuichi to “play” the game even though they’ve obviously already lost. You’re meant to run out this Nonstop Debate’s uniquely short timer, but another way to end it is to turn the “Continue the Game” bullet into “End the Game” by “lying” and fire that at any statement. It’s neat that they thought of that option.

It’s cute bit of fourth-wall-leaning that they then force you through multiple trial minigames that you have to stubbornly ignore… but this doesn’t actually make any sense. In-universe, this is a live reality TV show and not a videogame, and Shuichi doesn’t actually get given these minigames to play.

Oh look, it’s a Psyche Taxi segment that I don’t have to complain about! Because I don’t have to play it! Welp, I’m officially declaring this to be the best Psyche Taxi in the game, right here.

…For some reason, the car still moves ever so slightly even if you don’t press the accelerate button. And the fact that I have skills equipped to make this minigame go faster means I got closer to completing the question than other players would.

What must you never give up?

- Hope

This wouldn’t even be an interesting story if they played along, though. This would just be Shuichi spouting meaningless platitudes about hope, like Keebo was a while ago.

Shuichi: “We’re trying to survive! You’re the ones who want us to be entertaining!”

Remember the bit back in chapter 5 where Kokichi called Kaito “not boring” as he was supposedly about to die from the poison, and Kaito’s only response was a bewildered “What?”? That made me think of this line here. Nobody here has ever given a crap about whether or not what they’re doing is entertaining… except for Kokichi, because he was very like the mastermind of this game in a lot of ways.

“This was totally miscast.”

…Do some of them seriously think these are still actors? It’s sort of vaguely plausible that people might have been led to believe that until now, but these developments should definitely have blown the lid off of that deception even if that were the case.

“I don’t care as long as Himiko lives.”

Himiko still has a fan or two! But if they were really her fans, they’d want what she wants at this point, even if it means she has to die.

“I paid to see the punishments!”

“Make everyone die.”

There’s still plenty of people here who aren’t even believable viewers of fiction in any way. If all they’re here for is seeing people die, then clearly they don’t actually care about the characters, in which case what the hell was even the point of watching in the first place? Plus, a downer ending in which everyone dies presumably wouldn’t bother these people!

“This is why I wanted Kaede to live.”

Why? Kaede would be advocating for the exact same thing that Shuichi is right now, you know!

(This line does imply that the out-universe writers expected some of their actual audience to have wished Kaede had lived instead of Shuichi. But this doesn’t make nearly as much sense for the in-universe audience to think, because Kaede was never presented to them as the apparent protagonist.)

“Shuichi is mine! <3”

No, he isn’t, leave him the fuck alone.

The general gist of the audience’s comments, however, is them complaining about how they’re not enjoying this.

Shuichi: “If you’re going to complain… perhaps you should just stop watching.”

(More proof that Shuichi and the others can actually see all of these comments.)

This is still so awkwardly disconnected from reality. Everything that’s been happening since Shuichi realised what was up and started fighting back has been a way more compelling story than any of the nonsense that was going on while Keebo was being the protagonist. An actual reasonable audience wouldn’t be complaining about this at all – the only part of it they should have any potential issue with is the thought of no more killing games after this, but this killing game is getting a far better ending than it was looking like it was going to have a little while ago.

The conundrum that the out-universe writers have here is that they’re simultaneously trying to present an ending that’s supposedly boring enough to the in-universe audience that it ends the franchise, while not actually making the story boring to the real audience because they still want us to enjoy their game. They’re doing a decent enough job of keeping things compelling for us, at least in terms of how Shuichi and his friends have been acting here… but apparently the only way they could then try and sell the idea that the in-universe audience isn’t enjoying this like the out-universe audience should is by presenting the in-universe audience as mindless assholes who are not remotely relatable and nothing like a real audience of fiction would be. Which extremely compromises the point they’re trying to make about why this has gone on for so long in-universe.

But really, it would have been better, and easier, for the out-universe writers to have simply not given themselves this conundrum in the first place. Shuichi doesn’t actually need to try and give the audience a boring ending to end Danganronpa. If he did achieve it that way, it still wouldn’t fix the underlying problem this world has: that people think real-life killing games are a cool idea in principle, even if Danganronpa has apparently stagnated as a series enough to have ended. What Shuichi should actually be trying to do, already, is persuade the audience that they shouldn’t want this or anything like this any more, because real people dying is not worth anyone’s entertainment. That’s the only reasonable way things can end, and he should already be able to see that.

This wouldn’t be so hard to do if the audience had actually been presented as a vaguely reasonable audience of fiction who had been mostly wilfully ignoring the fact that everyone’s real until now. Because now, the fact that the audience has been watching real people die is part of the story, in a way that it’s never been before for however many of the 53 seasons have been real. It’s no longer something the audience can possibly ignore, no matter how much they may want to. And the audience should be reacting to this like any reasonable audience would – by rooting for the characters to get what they want, even if, in this case, it means the audience no longer gets what it wants. If this fiction was going to be powerful enough to change the world, all of that power and influence to be able to do so should have already happened through all five previous chapters of getting everyone more and more attached to these characters and invested in their goals. The majority of the audience should already be on Shuichi’s side here.

Obviously this would still be hard for a lot of people to accept – that they’re the villains, that in order for their heroes to win and get a happy ending they’ll need to stop getting their favourite show, that actually they should feel awful about having ever enjoyed the show in the first place. There’d still be plenty of resistance – but it should be meaningful resistance full of people having conflicted, human reactions to realising that they’ve always been in the wrong, not any of this one-dimensional “hurr durr this is boring everyone should just be yelling about hope and/or dying”.

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[Next post]

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #chapter 6 #class trial #commentary

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palegengarsiloved · 5 years ago

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Buddhism, Existentialism, Dark Souls

Fromsoft's games revolve around a core idea, one that other Japanese auteurs like Hideo Kojima, Fumito Ueda, Yoko Taro also touch on: the cycle of life and death, the suffering inherent in that natural system, and the connections we can still form and the meaning we can still find within them. It's obviously rooted in Buddhist and Shintoist beliefs, as well as other East Asian philosophies that acknowledge the supremacy of nature (and natural processes), accept the impermanence and imperfection of the world, and yet (therefore?) also the beauty found therein. First, how do other forms of media try to communicate these ideas? In traditional East Asian visual arts, humans are oftentimes either ignored or viewed as very small, distant figures, entirely dwarfed by nature. Early Buddhist art avoided human depiction at all, using instead icons like wheels and lotuses/cherries to communicate ideas of the cyclic nature of the world and the impermanence of the moment (it's argued that human depictions of religious figures only came into prominence after the whole Greco-Bactrian thing where Greeks set up shop in what is now Afghanistan/Pakistan and started carving gods-as-people, and I mean, you gotta compete with that seductive reification of divinity). Shintoist poetry is brief, fragile, incomplete, often summoning a brief moment of nature ("this dewdrop world / is a dewdrop world / and yet, and yet--"). Kurosawa's deep love of rain and bamboo, Ozu's pillow shots of landscapes and rooms devoid of people. All of these use tools unique to their respective mediums to manifest a sensation or emotion into the audience: Ozu focusing on an empty street for 10+ seconds wouldn't be possible in painting or sculpture; architecture's capacity towards grandness and sense of proportion to a person inside it can't be communicated through photographs. Think about the tools unique to video games, now. Think of all the ways you interact with a game: user interface, input controls, gameplay loops, level design, etc, and how those connect to create a totality of experience. All of these drastically affect the interplay between audience and art; think of if a Jeff Koons balloon animal sculpture were installed in some small garage versus a giant New International-style skyscraper lobby. (Imagine if Dark Souls was presented as a visual novel or whatever genre Undertale is.) Now think about how Dark Souls approaches each of those tools. User interface and item management is one that is quite clever: you are given an item, and you have zero idea of what it is, so you find a brief safe moment and take a look at its item description. It's vague and honestly impenetrable, with a little bit of equally-impenetrable lore on it. You only have one so far, so you're afraid to use it, but you have the feeling that not only could it be useful, but perhaps even necessary for some encounter. You see that you can carry up to 99 (and store 600) of them, so maybe there'll be more later? You know that you've picked up stuff that you thought might be one-off and found more later, or a merchant who sells it. Fuck it, might as well try it out - after all, this user interface is almost begging you to think about the lore meanings, the possible item use, and exploring for more of them, or how/where you could best use it. It's designed so that you acknowledge the rarity of it, but also are assured to not to worry too much about it and just try it out for whatever benefit you can get in this dangerous world. What's the worst thing that happens - you die and waste it? You've lost thousands of souls (the precious in-game currency) before, what's one lightning paper or green blossom whatever? You know this game is famously difficult; "It's like Dark Souls" is industry shorthand for "It's a fucking hard game" at this point. Might as well try something new in this brief cycle you have before the next inevitable death. That leads me to the next tool: the corpse-running / death mechanic. You'll die a lot, sure, but then you'll learn more, have the opportunity to think about what you might be doing wrong or not seeing, maybe even find a shortcut or trick or use a different item this time to make it easier. It's another ostensible punishment that's actually an opportunity for you to get better at the game, and to think about maybe using that one item for a boost or trying out a different weapon, but also it starts teaching you something very important to the series plot and themes: it's okay to die - natural, even. A part of life. It's not a waste any more than anything else in life is a waste - the only waste is if you don't learn from it, appreciate it, bask in the purifying fire of failure to find yourself in something close to Zen gameflow. Even then, it's not the game disrespecting your time; I would say that it's the player disrespecting their own experiences, discarding any outcome other than an easy victory as a waste, as pointless, as if progress is the only marker of a life well lived. Resisting death, panicking, generally facing it in an undignified manner... all of these are counter-productive. To do so is to miss the philosophy of why there isn't an instant boss restart button! The brief little life as you scurry to your undistinguished death is, perhaps, the point. I mean this in a game sense, too. If you are deeply reluctant and fearful of death, you won't have as much success exploring dangerous and unfamiliar areas. Once you accept that you might lose some paltry number of souls in exchange for new items, new shortcuts, new areas... the game becomes less of a hostile slog and more of this world that you want to explore and understand. Yes, there'll be some suffering; that's to be expected. But there's still rewards you can find, NPCs you can ogle, vistas you can enjoy. Kind of a blunt metaphor, huh? That leads to the level design. By that I mean not only shortcuts and verticality/horizonality, which are ingenious from a design perspective, but in how the levels evoke two major things: one is the lived-in nature of the world; the other is how small you are in comparison to it. Cathedrals are prominently featured throughout the games. Historically they were specifically designed to make laypersons feel small in the presence of divinity, to make their eyes look upward, and to contemplate the sheer power (physical and social) necessary to create these things. Think of how small you are, then, that there are even greater powers in nature that can make these monuments to humanity fall. As for the lived-in aspect, think of how strange the items you find are, how fragmentary their lore, and yet how they start to fit together, even from their placement in the world. (Why is a Choir investigator-assassin hiding out in the School of Mensis? Why does he drop sedatives?) There's this giant world taking place around you and you're so unimportant that no one really bothers to tell you anything more than vague prophecies and allusions. Anyone who points you somewhere concrete sees you as the pawn you are; you're also literally smaller than many other NPCs (Non-Player Characters) to illustrate this point. The NPCs are yet another way that the game acutely communicates its existential ideas to you. Everyone in the Dark Souls world is cursed to not die, but rather turn Hollow – that is, to lose their minds in lieu of death. The only way to fight against this curse is to commit to a purpose and use that willpower to stave off insanity. This is strongly absurdist in nature, as a cursed undead either completes their goal and then, newly purposeless, goes insane, or the goal is unfulfillable, and the goal-seeker is doomed to an eternity of Sisyphean torment. Some NPCs appear broken under this will, crestfallen or twisted or gleeful upon recognizing the sheer injustice of their burden; some soldier bravely on; some offer unconditional kindness; some perform a mixture of all three. There are startlingly few characters in this game, each almost hidden by the landscapes, and each clearly dwarfed – both literally by the environments they are lost in, and by the staggering difficulty of the tasks they took up. It’s almost easy to attack all the NPCs you come across, as you’re conditioned to be fearful of any other entity you encounter; many players kill a certain peaceful demonic entity because they’ve slain so many similar-looking monsters defending her. It’s easy to miss these connections, and the game makes no effort to protect them. It’s the hedgehog’s dilemma: can you let down your guard towards someone who very well may hurt you, in a world that has done nothing but hurt you? Will others do the same? The multiplayer component of this game adds a corollary to this social experiment: there will, inevitably, be those who seek to invade and destroy you, those who will defend and avenge you, those who will help you, and those who will dabble in all three. You see every day in real life: the wounded lashing out in pain, the happy few just trying to help others along the way, the people who want to create some sense of justice in an indifferent universe. Oftentimes, one human will try out all three roles in their life. Why do we do this? Perhaps it’s how we work through the cosmic injustice of our existence, in a form of primitive dialogue that we need to act out. The human condition, after all, is reconciling oneself with the fact that we, and everyone we know, are fated to someday die. That's where the plot intersects with the gameplay and themes to make the whole greater than the sum of its parts. The directive you’re given at the beginning of the game is to extend the Age of Fire, the era you are currently living in; you are told that this is because with Fire there’s light, and time, and the creative spark of divinity on high. However, it turns out that unnaturally prolonging the Age of Fire is actually pretty bad, and results in all sorts of upheaval and foul consequences (including, possibly, the undead curse itself, unless you believe a certain scholar in DS2…). We learn as we venture through this game and interface with its mechanics that death must be a part of life and dark must accompany light. We also know that something can arise out of nothing (as we know there was a “time” before the Age of Fire; think pre-Big Bang), so it turns out that even if you don’t extend the Age of Fire, the larger cycle of death and rebirth perhaps never ends. In any case: fighting against this inevitability, fighting against the possibility of pain and loss caused the Gwyn, the Lord of Fire and Light, to ultimately sacrifice and thus lose everything he defended in tragic irony; similarly, trying too hard to lean into the turn caused Oolacile/New Londo/Farron Keep to be lost in the Dark forever. By dying over and over in-game, by investigating the subtle hints of lore found in the items and the sparse dialogue, and by witnessing the sad existence of these once-great powers of Fire that have long-since shriveled up under the infinite and inescapable wheel of nature, you begin to internalize the themes these games try, through all the tools at their disposal, to make you feel. You can live, however briefly, and value it, but also learn to let it go. You can love nature and respect its impersonal processes, understand that ultimately it will reclaim us, and find some comfort that the end isn't necessarily the end. There will be suffering, but there will be moments of total (if brief) triumph. There will be moments of tenderness with NPCs that can only be generated by a video game world where life is immensely fragile and nothing but the curse of insanity permanent. Will you allow yourself to try and help them, knowing how difficult and obtuse it will be, and how little it might seem to matter? Will you extend the Age of Fire to uphold the lie, because this Age is the only thing you and the rest of the world has ever known? Will you be brave – or perhaps, human – enough to reach out to others in this brief moment before the end of the world, and when the time comes, to let the Age of Fire fade? Can you live, and perhaps just as importantly, die with dignity? The totality of the experience gets the player to directly feel these themes in a way that can't be done in other media. By showing - through the death mechanic, NPC quests that can permanently be failed or missed, unforgiving and vast levels with tons of secrets and shortcuts, obscure item descriptions and the resultant need for exploration and player-driven introspection and experimentation, and not by telling through cutscenes, everything works together to evoke a mood that the player directly feels like they're helping create. The sheer unity - the, ahem, ludonarrative assonance - of the design is beautiful to consider on an intellectual level but also satisfying on an interactive, practical level. You have fun not despite these things, any of which alone may be disheartening, but because together they're so thematically consistent. Taken by itself the corpse run mechanic might be considered unnecessary or anti-fun, but when placed among the larger picture it not only makes sense but makes the player consider that there might be something they're missing, that there may be more to explore elsewhere or some item that will help, because the game is so mysterious and rewards exploration and experimentation so much. This is in addition to how much it reinforces the themes of the game! I could expand on about how such well-executed unity of purpose and audience-medium interplay makes it high art, like, true fucking Michaelangelo's David type shit, but I don't want to get swept up in the hype, so I'll leave you with a classic Dark Souls quote: "therefore try tongue but hole"

#darksouls #dark souls

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snickerl · 5 years ago

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Of Monsters and Men, and a Woman.

- I think I smell smoke. -

I wished we had seen a dialogue like this in season 11.

Many thanks to the more than helpful @chekcough and @unremarkable-house for volunteering as beta-readers and their valuable input.

Tagging @today-in-fic

“Oh, isn't this nice? A family reunion."

A cold, familiar voice suddenly filled the air and made Mulder and Scully look in the direction it was coming from. A figure appeared slowly from the shadows a weapon trained at them, showing them a smug smile.

"Spender," Mulder spat.

They had been trying to find an exit out of the huge, run-down and abandoned factory complex where they had found Jackson hiding from his pursuers. Initially, the boy hadn't been willing to let his birth parents interfere, insisting he could look out for himself, but eventually, he had called for Scully through the communication channel he had used before. He was still a teenager, only seventeen years old, traumatized and alone after the assassination of his adoptive parents. Of course, Scully and Mulder had rushed to their son's side, armed and more than ready to protect him from whoever wanted to harm him.

They hadn't expected their old foe to show up at the scene, though. Not after the enemies had been presenting themselves as Purlieu lately. But the agents should have known better, should have anticipated that this man was pulling the strings in the background and would make his appearance somewhere along the road. So, here he was: Carl Gerhard Busch, C.G.B. Spender, Cancer Man, the Cigarette Smoking Man...good God, if there was one person they could name as the evil incarnate, it would be him.

Spender's voice was sugar-sweet but full of dishonesty as always. "Hello, Fox. Dana. I see you have reunited with your offspring after having cut the ties so harshly when he was a baby. Congratulations. I'm happy for you." A disdainful sneer was spreading on his face, proof of his feeling of superiority. He pulled a trademark cigarette out of his pocket with his free hand, put it to his mouth, fished for a lighter in the same pocket, lit it, took a slow, deep draw, then calmly watched how the smoke was leaving his mouth. "The three of us haven't seen each other in a while." His eyes fell on Scully. He scrutinized her from head to toe, unable to conceal that he liked what he saw. "Dana, you look fabulous. What a great pleasure to see you again after all we've been through together."

Scully took a few steps backward, wrapping her arms around herself. "I can't say that I'm sharing the sentiment. If I had been given a choice, I wouldn't have gone through anything with you," she snapped.

Spender only smiled at the unfriendly retort as if he hadn't expected anything else from her. He hadn't been lying though, he was enjoying this immensely. He had been looking forward to this particular moment for a very long time and he was going to savor every minute of it.

"Why so rude, Agent Scully? I remember fondly the nice little road trip we took some years ago, the three days and nights we spent together, the gourmet dinner at a deluxe restaurant prepared by a renowned chef. I will certainly never forget how stunning you looked in the dress I gave you. The black one with those little straps and low neckline." His eyes fell on her chest. "I sincerely hope you let Agent Mulder see you in that dress."

"I burned it," Scully hissed. The knot deep within her tightened. Of course, she remembered the trip, but not with the same glee as the Smoking Man. She felt shame and embarrassment, even guilt when she thought of how naïve and imprudent she had been to follow him without telling Mulder. Not only had it left her with nothing but a blank CD-ROM and empty promises but also with a cracked partnership. It had taken them a while to repair their relationship, until Mulder was able to forgive her and Scully to forgive herself.

"What a pity. It was such an expensive dress. And it suited you so well. You were a feast for the eyes for everyone in the restaurant that night, Dana."

Spender let the words roll off his tongue with a delightful smile on his lips. Unabashedly, he ogled Scully's body, his eyes wandering slowly from her slender waist, across her chest, and up to her face. He looked into her eyes probingly before starting to walk around her, giving her the once over. When he took a luxurious draw on his cigarette, his eyes resting on her backside, Mulder had enough.

"Cut the crap, you sick bastard! What do you want?"

Spender kept his eyes on Scully for another beat, then turned around in exaggerated casualness, tsking and looking at Mulder with disapproval.

"Fox, that's not the way you should speak to your father."

A sour laugh escaped Mulder's throat. He shook his head and threw a side glance at Jackson. The boy had no idea of what was going on in front of him but watched the adults intently. His biological parents had a history with this threatening old man, but not a friendly one. The way they had been addressed by their first names instead of their customary way of calling each other by their last names had sounded like a mockery, not like a sign of familiarity or friendship.

Spender had his weapon pointed alternately at each of them and enjoyed his position of advantage. Scully had positioned herself in the line of fire in movements so small they were barely perceptible, sheltering Jackson off the weapon's potential trajectory. This, thankfully, had gone unnoticed by Spender but not by the boy, and it made him feel protected and cared for but also anxious. This man meant business, that much was clear.

"If you came here to satisfy your sick need of feeling more powerful than us, go ahead. Make fun of us, remember all the moments you held our lives in your hands, but leave our son out of it. Let him go." Scully's voice was strong and full of determination. If she was apprehensive, she did a hell of a job not showing it.

"Aaaw, mama bear is protecting her cub,” the Smoking Man snarled. “How sweet. You should have stood by your son during his childhood instead of giving him to two ignorant and completely overstrained people who'd never had the ability to protect him. Did you really believe it would be that easy to hide him?" He fell silent as if giving her time to answer, watching as Scully exchanged an anxious look with Mulder, he then chuckled. "I always knew where he was. I knew of his broken arm at the age of five, I attended his Little League games, watched him celebrate his first home run, and I know his childhood sweetheart's name was Chelsea."

"What the fuck?" Jackson cried out, shocked by what he was hearing. He had no idea who this man was and why he had such an interest in him. Before he could say any more, Scully took a few steps forward until the man's weapon almost touched her chest, shielding Jackson even more. Her back and shoulders were straightened and her chin was up, but her face had lost its color. She was pale and her voice was a bit shaky now.

"Ever heard of the Constitution, Spender? The 14th Amendment and the Right to Privacy?"

Her question was met by a laugh. Spender put his cigarette to his lips, drew with relish, then let the butt fall to the ground and stepped on it. The grinding noise of the sole of his shoe stubbing out the smoking butt on the floor reverberated through the place, grotesquely amplified by the high concrete walls surrounding them.

"Is that really meant to be a serious question, Agent Scully? You know as well as I do that the Constitution is nothing more but the democratic fig leaf for governmental institutions to pretend they let legitimacy and righteousness guide them. You and Agent Mulder also haven't always played by the book as far as I remember, so spare me your moral indignation."

"What is your interest in our son?” Scully asked. “Have you been afraid of losing your power over us, is that why you spied on his childhood? To use him as leverage over us after all?"

The Smoking Man shook his head and grinned. "Agent Scully, I've never lost my power over you. Have you forgotten the little something in your neck?"

Jackson didn't understand what this meant and why it was knocking the wind out of his birth mother. The man's words were clearly meant to provoke her, and it was working. She gasped and touched a spot at the back of her neck right at the bottom of her hairline. Jackson didn't know what that 'little something' was and what it had to do with anything, what he saw were Scully's trembling fingertips rubbing a spot on her neck as if it itched. The man definitely had succeeded in rendering her speechless.

Not so Mulder. He looked like he was regurgitating a dustball when he spoke and his voice sounded like a rabid dog's growl. "You son-of-a-bitch!"

"You have something to say, Agent Mulder? Fox?"

"Scully asked you a question. What's your interest in Jackson? Why are you here?"

Spender only hummed, pulled another cigarette out of his jacket and lit it. The package was empty now. He crumpled it up and let it fall to the ground next to the butt he had thrown there already. Jackson had to think of his mama who had taught him never to litter. Despite the tenseness of the situation and the much worse things this man was clearly capable of, this childish act of disrespect made the boy's blood rise. His birth parents were scared by this guy who was playing a game of cat-and-mouse with them, that much was obvious, and Jackson asked himself if they remembered that he had a biological advantage he could use to chase this unbearable chain smoker away.

"I told you at the very beginning that I was looking forward to a family reunion. Have you not listened? A father wants to see his son once in a while," Spender supplied.

"Bill Mulder was my father, you have never been a father to me."

"Well...son...genetics don't lie. A biological fact is a biological fact. You may call Bill Mulder whatever you want, all you got from him was his name. But that's another story. Anyway, I wasn't talking about you and me, Fox."

As the last words were leaving his mouth, Spender turned away from Mulder and laid his eyes on Jackson. The boy froze, every muscle of his body strained. Mulder and Scully looked at each other with slack expressions on their faces. The already strung up atmosphere was tensing up even more.

"Who were you talking about then?" Mulder hissed.

Of course, there were not that many other possibilities of who he could have been talking about. Although Mulder, Scully, and Jackson were anticipating an answer, they were also fearing it. It seemed like time was standing still. Somewhere in the factory there had to be a broken pipe because the constant dripping of water could be heard. It echoed through the deserted place, which was cold, dirty, and scarcely lit. The way the Smoking Man's face was illuminated whenever he drew on his cigarette reminded Jackson of his first slumber party when his papa told creepy stories and scared them holding a flashlight under his chin. This man was also creepy, but not in a playful manner like his papa. This man was dangerous and Jackson felt unease running up his spine as the man fixed his cold eyes on him, saying nothing, simply staring at him.

When Spender finally chose to answer, all three of them seemed to hold their breaths. Looking noticeably at Jackson and in a tone of voice more suitable for ordering a glass of Chardonnay in a fancy restaurant than wrecking the life three people had just begun to re-establish together, he said, "well, Fox, if you can't put two and two together yourself, it shall be my pleasure to break this to you: when I said I was looking forward to seeing my son, I was talking about this young lad here."

Boom! The bomb had exploded and nobody had thought of taking cover.

Scully's head flew around. Her hand had left her neck and clutched at her chest instead. She bore her eyes into Spender’s as if she wanted to read his mind, backing away from him at the same time. Mulder's brows were drawn together, his glance darting between Scully and Spender looking for answers in their faces. Jackson was just standing there like a pillar of salt. This guy, this horrible smoker, had just suggested he was his father, now being the third person claiming this particular family bond with him.

How had his life become such a mess? A few months ago, everything had still been fine. He had some peculiar abilities, granted, but he knew how to handle them...most of the time. He had a mama and a papa who loved him dearly, he had a home, he had friends. His life was in order. And then the broad-shouldered men in black suits had shown up, sitting for hours in armed dark limousines across the street, observing him, and an alarm inside his head had gotten off. Then the visions had started, visions of spaceships, of a worldwide pandemic, an apocalypse, and of a woman with red hair. All of this had brought him here, to an old, chain-smoking moron who was telling him he was his father. What a freak show his life had become.

“Bullshit!” Mulder grunted eventually, pulling Jackson out of his dark thoughts. “After all these years, you think we’d fall for your dirty tricks, Spender?" Scully's hand was still pressed to her chest. Slowly moving further away from the Smoking Man she whispered, now unable to conceal her apprehension, "what exactly are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything, just stating the biological facts. Aren't facts something you've always been so keen on finding, Doctor Scully? And the fact is that I am William's...uh, sorry, young man...Jackson's father. He is my son, not Agent Mulder's."

Hearing him speak it out loud only made things worse. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Mulder, Scully, and Jackson could barely breathe. The mere idea was earth-shattering. It turned their world upside down, a world that had just begun to reset since the three of them had been reunited. Jackson looked helplessly at who he believed to be his birth father - Mulder - the man who had hugged him so fiercely while whispering in his ear, "I've been looking for you forever", and "I held you when you were a baby".

Mulder was thunderstruck himself, hit to the core, struggling to process the words the old man had just spoken. It was Scully who rediscovered her voice first. "I've never heard such nonsense," she grunted, parts of her self-confidence regained. "If it wasn't so damn sickening, I'd laugh. Wouldn't I know if we had intercourse?" Mulder's face contorted into a pained grimace at that. He winced unmistakably, earning himself the Smoking Man's pitiful smile. Then Spender turned toward Scully again, the corners of his mouth curving up in a smug smile while answering her in a too-sweet voice, "how would you know? You were sedated."

Mulder groaned again, but Scully remained composed, stoic almost. "You mistreated me while I was unconscious."

It came out like a statement, not a question. Jackson was impressed by how calm she sounded. No, impressed was the wrong word. Confused. How could she make such an outrageous allegation and remain so cool? Unlike her, Mulder was not able to keep his composure. The words were growing from the deep of his throat, raw and desperate. "If you harmed her, you’ll pay for it. I will make sure you do, even if it's the last thing that I do."

"I didn't harm her, I gave her what she longed for the most. What you couldn't give her, Fox."

"What do you mean?"

"Hadn't you donated sperm for Agent Scully to get pregnant just a few months earlier, and hadn't the procedure failed? Well, I was more successful," Spender said with twisted satisfaction.

Scully threw Mulder a worried glance and wrapped her arms around her waist once again. She swallowed uncomfortably before she spoke. "You impregnated me? You?" This time, it was a question. An unsettling, agonizing, disgusting question.

"Not the way you may think, Dana. With science. I got you pregnant with science. I had the best doctors care for you and perform the transfer of the ova we had gotten from you, inseminated with sperm I had provided. You would have been thrilled to be a part of a scientific experiment of this immeasurable value, had I been able to tell you then."

The man was speaking in a manner so calm and unfazed he really had to believe that what he was saying was totally normal, whereas, in fact, it was totally crazy. The words 'sedation', 'insemination', and 'experiment' were swirling around in Jackson's head and it made him wonder what kind of trouble he had ended up in. This crazy shit, which had started with the men in the black suits following his every step, seemed to get weirder every day.

"Those weren't doctors, those were rapists. You are a rapist. You hadn't gotten my ova, you'd taken it from me against my will. That was medical rape, twice, and no scientific experiment. Highly unethical and a violation of my right to physical integrity. I can't remember signing a declaration of consent."

Again, the restraint with which she was talking was remarkable. Mulder, who could hardly contain himself, who looked like he wanted to put his hands around Spender’s neck and press until the last bit of air left his lungs, was puzzled by her cool demeanor. Hadn't she just been told that their baby wasn't theirs but hers and…? He couldn't even bring himself to think the unthinkable. The mere thought of it made him want to gag. It would mean Jackson wasn't his son, but his half-brother. It would mean Scully hadn't conceived, carried, given birth to and nursed his son, but that Cancer Man's. He felt a tingling sensation at the back of his throat.

Spender clicked his tongue. "A declaration of consent...you amuse me, Agent Scully. You of all people should know I act on behalf of a circle of people who don't let formalities bind them. Your consent is irrelevant. We are working toward a larger goal, a goal you know fairly well."

"Creating a superior race and ruling the world," Scully spat out indignantly.

"Creating a human-alien hybrid, achieving what herds of scientists have tried but failed so far. William was our first success."

The world started to spin around Jackson. What had this caricature of a human being just called him? A human-alien hybrid? He had understood by now that this kid they were talking about all the time, William, was him. He was Jackson Van De Kamp formerly known as William, the Alien. How on earth had he been drawn into this crazy shit?

"He isn't yours, he is ours. Mulder's and mine. He is not one of your lab rats. He is our son, and we made him."

She sounded so sure and Jackson wanted to believe her so badly. He didn't want to have anything to do with this unhinged, nicotine-addicted lunatic. He didn't want to be special, let alone superior. He wanted normalcy, he wanted to be just a normal boy. Kids his age shouldn't have to deal with crap like this. He wondered how his birth parents had managed to get themselves into this fucked-up mess and if his adoption had anything to do with it. His birth mother, Dana, had talked about bringing him to safety when she had spoken to what she had believed was his dead body in the morgue.

The Smoking Man was standing in front of her, towering over her. His legs apart and his chin up, he was looking down on her with a self-satisfied expression. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly before he spoke. "Dana, how can you be so sure?" The way he called her by her first name again, his voice a mix of superficial friendliness and subtle wickedness, made Jackson's blood run cold. He didn't know this man who was inhaling one cigarette after another, but he radiated malice with every fiber of his being. The way he conversed, how he played with his birth parents, how he gloated when he was shooting his poisoned arrows at them. But what was clearly meant as a fatal wound bounced right off of her this time.

"Do you really believe I was so naïve as to accept my pregnancy as a God-given miracle?” she asked, her lips curving into a slight smile. Spender's expression froze. “I knew my medical condition, that I was barren, a situation you were not entirely blameless in. Of course, I asked myself how I had been able to conceive. Emily's short life and what had been done to me during my abduction was ample proof of what you and your kind were able and willing to do. I needed to know my baby was normal and healthy, so I sought proof of what I felt so strongly - that my baby was Mulder's.” She looked at Mulder, throwing him a reassuring glance before she turned back to Spender and continued. “I’m a scientist, and scientists conduct scientific tests to get proof. That's exactly what I did. As soon as William was born, I had a DNA paternity test done. Three times. I supervised all three procedures myself to be a hundred percent sure the results were reliable. They were, and they showed a match between Mulder and William. There is no doubt whatsoever that they are father and son."

The Smoking Man's once self-assured outer appearance was cracking even more. He nervously fingered the lighter in his hand and his right eyelid twitched when he spoke. "That's impossible! I watched over your insemination. I was told the transfer of the fertilized eggs had been a success. And you were diagnosed as pregnant shortly thereafter, weren't you? So it had to have been successful."

"The transfer might have been successful, but that doesn't necessarily mean the eggs made it into the uterine wall, especially if there already was an egg attached to it, an egg that had gotten there naturally. I did the math, believe me. I calculated the possibility of ovulation, natural conception and implantation back and forth, it's highly plausible that I was already pregnant when you took me on your little trip. Unbeknownst to me, and obviously also unbeknownst to you and your so-called doctors. They neglected to test for pregnancy before they performed the transfer, which is, by the way, a standard procedure in every fertility clinic."

Spender's cool appearance was now falling to pieces before their eyes. He looked like a deflating balloon. He hadn't seen this coming. Just a few minutes ago, he had felt so superior, but this woman was making him dizzy with her scientific narrative. "I...I don't believe this," he stammered.

"I was pregnant with Mulder’s child," Scully continued coolly. "A real scientist rules out everything that has the potential to ruin an experiment, but your doctors weren't thorough enough. Too bad for you.”

She waited, letting her words take effect. After what seemed an eternity to all the people listening to her, she went on.

“You were wrong all these years believing William was your genetic offspring. You may have a biological connection to Mulder, but that's all there is. You don't belong to this family, it's just the three of us: Jackson, Mulder, and me. Now get your sorry ass out of here before I put a bullet through your head for all the times you abused me and the ones I Ioved."

Spender swallowed all of it, every word, and he had difficulties getting them down. But he was a vicious man used to dealing in vicious circles, he wasn't knocked down easily. He wouldn't have survived all these years among reckless men, had he not had the capacity to take a blow. He strolled over to Scully slowly placing one foot in front of the other, his eyes never leaving her. He drew a circle around her so small he was almost touching her, lighting yet another cigarette he procured out of a new pack.

"I am the one with a weapon in my hand, Agent Scully. You are aware that I could shoot you before you even pulled yours out of the holster." His firearm trained at her, he circled her once more until he came to a halt in front her, eyeing her intensely. "Give me your gun!” He demanded harshly now, holding out his hand, palm up.

Jackson was amazed by how fast the man had recovered. His ice-cold eyes, bereft of any sign of emotion, bore into his birth mother. She held her ground for a moment but then obeyed and handed him her gun. Then he turned to Mulder who reluctantly pulled his weapon out of his hip holster and let it dangle on his outstretched index finger in front of the man's face. The smoker unhooked it with a satisfied grin and put it away. He was in possession of three firearms now, he held all the power despite the momentary crack in his façade a few minutes ago. "Do you still feel like threatening me, Agent Scully?" he asked, mocking his now defenseless opponents.

"One day, you will pay for what you've done, Spender. One day, justice will be served and you will rot in hell where you belong," Scully spat at him, her chin up.

Jackson admired her for her bravery, for how she stood up to that man who was holding all the aces. The boy hummed a low-key Hallelujah, so silent only Mulder, who was standing right behind him, could hear it. He acknowledged it in return with a muffled snorting only audible for Jackson. Father and son in shared admiration for this tiny woman's greatness.

Scully had impressed Spender too, but he wouldn't let anyone know. He made sure to thread enough irony into his voice replying, "ah, Dana, let me compliment you on your bravado and your optimism, but for men like me, there will always be a way out. I'm not so sure about you though. It seems to me your current position is quite precarious." He lifted his gun, pointed it at her forehead, and released the safety catch. The metallic click was so loud, amplified by the surroundings, it made Mulder's and Jackson's eardrums vibrate.

Mulder's right hand tingled. Not many people knew he still carried a second weapon at his ankle. If only he could reach down there, he might be able to get it out before Spender realized what was happening. He bent forward and groaned, holding his stomach with both hands as if he was about to throw up. When his ankle was within reach, he slowly stretched his right hand out, continuing the gagging sounds to keep up the illusion. He was almost there, could already feel the hard steel under the fabric of his pants leg, when the sound of a weapon falling to the ground echoed through the factory hall.

Mulder looked up, expecting to see Spender's gun still aimed at Scully's head, but what he saw was Spender's face twisted in horror. He was holding up his empty hands and was gasping for air like a fish out of the water. Mulder had never seen this man in anything but a smug pose, arrogant and overbearing, but this was fear, mortal fear.

Mulder rose completely and caught Scully's sideways glance. By the look of the confused lines on her forehead, she was as clueless as he was about what was going on. They both watched as Spender stumbled a few steps backward and tripped over his own feet transfixed by something behind them. His mouth opened but no words came out, only a choked scream. Scully and Mulder looked wildly around for the source of his terror but saw nothing. The building was completely empty save for them and quiet but for the whimpers of the now weak, powerless man.

Mulder looked over at his son and noticed that he was the only one who seemed to be in control. And then realization dawned him. Jackson was pulling one of his tricks. He was creating an alternate reality for Spender, maybe one of his gruesome monsters. Mulder couldn't tell, he couldn’t see what Spender saw, and neither could Scully, given the puzzled look on her face.

In the end, it didn't matter what the smoker saw, the only thing that mattered was that he got on all fours and started crawling away, whining like a baby. Watching him coil in mortal fear was striking a chord within Mulder that surprised him. He never imagined he could rejoice in the suffering of another human being, not even a man he loathed from the bottom of his heart, but all he could feel was satisfaction. It would have been easy to reach for his weapon now and bring this to an end for good, to make Spender pay with his life for all he had done to them, but Mulder couldn't bring himself to do it. He just watched as their enemy of twenty-five years got awkwardly to his feet, his tail between his legs, and started running without turning back to them once again.

When the Smoking Man was gone, Scully turned around to look at Mulder and Jackson. "What the hell was that?" she asked, still unable to understand why he had fled. "One minute he’s threatening to shoot us, and the next he can't get out of here fast enough."

"Jackson?" Mulder only said, throwing his son a challenging look.

"He must have seen something that scared him a bit," Jackson replied looking at the space between his feet.

"A bit? He was terrified!" Scully said.

There had to be something really interesting on the floor because Jackson wouldn't look up to meet his birth parents' eyes. "Yeah, well..."

"You created a false reality for him, right? Like you did for us when we were at your parents' house."

Jackson answered Mulder's question with a shrug of his shoulders. He had used his powers more than once for the wrong reasons, to tease people or scare them just for fun, and had been berated for it repeatedly. This had seemed like a good moment to use them, but he wasn't quite sure if it would be appreciated or not. "Someone had to do something. I couldn't stand this asshole and his self-satisfied grin any longer," he offered as an explanation.

"Why didn't we see it?" Scully asked.

"I didn't make you see it, only him."

"You can decide who sees what you create and who doesn't?"

Jackson nodded. "You were the only one who saw me as Peter Wong in front of the hospital."

Scully's heart ached a little thinking back to that moment. She had been longing for contact to her son for so long, and then he had been standing in front of her, talking to her, touching her, and she hadn't known it had been him. She had felt a strange connection to this man who had bumped into her, who had been so compassionate about the broken snow globe and who had smiled at her when she told him she liked this particular windmill she was holding in her hands.

"Did you bump into me on purpose?"

"Sure."

"Why?"

"I was curious about you after what you'd said to me in the morgue."

More heartache. Unknowing of what he was doing to her, Jackson continued. "You sounded so sad and so...honest. And I also had to make sure you'd gotten my message about the windmill. The snow globe in your hands showed me you had."

"So our meeting at the gas station wasn't a coincidence either."

"Of course not. I had something else to say to you."

If filled her with joy that despite her giving him away as a baby, he had wanted to establish contact. Even if without revealing his identity.

"The Malcolm X quote," Scully supplied.

"Right. I hoped you'd draw the right conclusions and realize it was me you'd talked to."

"Mulder recognized the quote and we both realized at the same time it must have been you. My heart almost burst when I saw myself talking to my son, my living son, on the surveillance tape."

"Surveillance tape?"

"The gas station had a CCTV system," Mulder explained. "On the surveillance tape, you were being you and not some pickup artist."

"Yeah, well, my mind is just so strong. I can manipulate people's perceptions but not a machine."

"Still, it's a powerful talent you've got there," Scully noted.

"A talent?" Jackson chuckled. "I see it more as a curse. It makes me an outsider. People think I'm a freak. Which I probably am. It has come in handy a few times lately though."

Scully took a step toward him. She would have liked to embrace him, pull him to her chest, just like Mulder had done at the motel when the two had first met, but instead, she only put her hands on his shoulders to make him look at her. "Listen, Jackson, you are not a freak. And none of this is your fault. You are who you are because you are our son, and from now on, Mulder and I will care for you. We will protect you. You are not alone."

As much as Mulder enjoyed watching mother and son talk to each other, he also got increasingly nervous. What if Spender had a backup? What if he knew and simply forgot for a moment about Jackson's ability to create alternate realities and realized he had been fooled once he had run far enough and cooled down his nerves? They had to get out of this building and off the premises as quickly as possible.

"Guys, let's get in the car and out of here. Spender doesn't work alone, and I don't want to be here when one of his cronies shows up to finish what he hasn't been able to do."

"You're right, Mulder. Come on, Jackson. We'll get somewhere safe," Scully said, nudging the boy forward with her hand on his shoulder.

They ran outside through the same steel door the Smoking Man had fled through and jumped into Scully's SUV. Mulder took the seat behind the steering wheel, Scully the passenger seat. Jackson climbed into the back. "Buckle up, Jackson," Scully tossed over her left shoulder in full maternal mode, "we will have to take some unexpected turns if someone follows us."

But no one followed them. It was a quiet ride, each of them taking their time to process what had happened and what had been said in the factory building. It was Jackson who finally broke the silence.

"You really are my parents, right? Both of you." His eyes met Mulder's in the rearview mirror, Scully turned around in the passenger seat and looked at him. It took him a moment until he was able to meet her intensive gaze, but then the direct connection enabled him to clarify. "What this man said was bullshit. That I am a product of a scientific experiment, that he...uh...that he made you pregnant with me against your will."

"He tried, but he failed," she said, maintaining their eye-contact without blinking. "I am absolutely certain that you are our son, Jackson. Mulder's and mine. You are not an experiment. You were conceived in an act of love." Scully glanced briefly at Mulder after having put so much emphasis on the word 'love' that her voice trembled. He kept his eyes on the street but nodded and smiled. "Not in a laboratory," she concluded.

"But..." Jackson left the rest unsaid. He threw his hands in the air and let himself fall back against the backrest.

"But what?" Scully probed.

"Why am I like this? So...creepy?"

Scully unbuckled her seat belt and climbed across the middle console into the back to join Jackson. She didn't want to talk to him about this any longer twisting her neck. She needed to be able to look him in the eye. She would have wanted to take his hands in hers and squeeze them to assure him but didn't dare. "You are not creepy," she said, laying her hand gently on his lower arm instead, hoping he wouldn't pull it back. He didn't. Not instantly anyway, but after a short moment. She berated herself inwardly for invading his personal space against her better judgment. Had she known that he didn't mind her touching him as much as she thought and that his awkwardness around her was caused by not knowing how to interact with a woman he felt so close (she was his mother, for God's sake) and yet so distant rather than resenting her, it wouldn't have hurt quite that much.

"You haven't seen what else I can do, Dana. Uh, you mind me calling you Dana?" Jackson asked, suddenly uncertain.

"Oh, uhm...no, not at all. Dana is fine."

"I mean since he," Jackson tilted his head in Mulder's direction, "calls you Scully."

"Well, that's a thing between us going back to the time we started out as co-workers. People outside of work usually call me Dana. Friends and family anyway. So Dana is perfectly fine."

It was a start, wasn't it? Scully didn't dare to hope that one day Jackson would call her something more affectionate, like 'mother' or maybe even 'mom'. She had been a mother to two children and had never been addressed as such by either of them. It was a wound which had never healed.

Unaware of Scully's inner struggles, Jackson resumed, "great! So, Dana, you haven't seen me do these other things I'm capable of. Like make people explode, for one. You were freaked out, weren't you?" the boy asked looking at Mulder who was observing them in the rear view mirror more than he should, given the fact that he was running at more than 80 miles per hour. "I was glad you made me duck!" he joked from the front, but the joke never made it to the back. Scully and Jackson were too much involved in their conversation to appreciate his effort.

"Whatever it is that you are capable of, Jackson, it doesn't make you a freak. Most certainly not in our eyes." Scully did her best to assure him of Mulder's and her determination. He needed to know that this time they would stand by him come what may. "You are our son, our flesh and blood, and we love you. Even if you might think otherwise because you were given up for adoption."

"But why am I like this? If you are my biological parents, and I wasn’t created by this chain-smoking moron, why am I not normal like you? You seem like pretty normal people to me. You are not some aliens or hybrids or whatever this guy was saying I was. You may be a little crazy, but still, you're normal, everyday people."

Scully sighed. "As you might have guessed, we have a history with this man, this chain-smoking moron. He's been using us to his own ends, mistreated us, harmed us time and again. I was abducted as a young woman and had become involved in a sinister, abhorrent plan of a group of ruthless men. Unethical tests were performed on me and my DNA had been tampered with. And the same happened to Mulder, only a few years later. He had been experimented on, manipulated, and mistreated so much that he almost died."

Scully saw no use in telling Jackson that Mulder had indeed been dead and buried, and that his coming back to the living had been nothing but short of a miracle. What the boy was hearing had to be disturbing enough, giving him more disconcerting details wasn't helpful, so she continued with the facts he needed to know to get the picture.

"What I'm trying to explain to you is that our genomes have been manipulated, and I take it that's the reason you are who you are. You're a combination of both of us. It's for everyone to see in your looks. You have Mulder's hair and his height, and you have my eyes and my freckles on your nose. Your abilities...well, they are likely a result of what they have done to our genetic material. I don't have any other explanation."

"Wow," was all Jackson said, "you aren't as normal as I thought."

"A lot of people would call us crazy as well. And a bit spooky. At least when it comes to me," Mulder tried for another joke but failed again. Neither Scully nor Jackson laughed.

"You already had powers as a baby, Jackson. You had spun the mobile above your crib once in a crying fit, and you had made a piece of rock hover above your face. And when I had realized that there were people out there holding an interest in you, the man you just met being one of them, I thought the only way to protect you was to hide you in another family far away from us."

"You gave me away to protect me, not to get rid of me." He didn't need to pose this as a question, he had understood.

"Yes," Scully breathed. "It was the only way to get you out of reach of these people."

"Well, your plan obviously didn't work out. The things he told you about me, they were all true. It creeps me out to imagine this maniac has been watching me all the time."

Jackson thought back to his childhood, to some of the events the Smoking Man might have been present at: his first day of school, when he scored the decisive penalty which had secured the championship for his soccer team, prom night and his first kiss... A cold shudder ran down his spine.

“Spender might have watched you, but so have we," Scully said, only now taking the time since she had climbed into the back to buckle herself up.

"You have?" Jackson asked incredulously.

"We have?" Mulder echoed, looking flummoxed. Scully had never told Mulder that for all these years someone had been holding a hand over their William, someone who hated the Cigarette Smoking Man just as much as they did. She had feared that had Mulder known there was indeed a way to their son despite the closed adoption, that one day he would have tried to track him down.

"When I gave you up, I asked a friend to keep an eye on you because I knew that if we did, we would lead them right to you. His name is Jeffrey, and he helped me find you when you started communicating with me through the visions. I demanded he breaks the promise to never disclose your whereabouts to me."

Mulder took a sharp intake of breath. His molars were grinding when he asked, "you hired Jeffrey Spender to protect our son?"

"I didn't hire him. He..." Scully was struggling for words. "Mulder, you were gone, I was all alone in this and I didn't know what to do. He had come to me, had tried to protect William from you-know-who by secretly injecting him with magnetite. Jeffrey Spender was the only ally I had."

He'd been injected with what? Magnetite? For protection? Jackson remembered how the results of his blood work had always made his doctors frown. This story was getting crazier by the minute. But there was something else that had piqued his interest even more. "Spender? This guy's name is Jeffrey Spender? Haven't you called the smoking asshole Spender, too?" Jackson asked.

"Yes. Jeffrey is his son and my half-brother," Mulder explained. This new information cleared something up Mulder had racked his brain over for some time. "Now I understand why he called me when you were in the hospital after your seizure, Scully. I didn't know what to make of his warning on my voicebox that someone was coming after us."

"This man's son helped you protect me? He's worked against his own father?"

"This man is also my biological father. It speaks for itself that both his sons loathe him that much, doesn't it? It speaks for how profoundly evil he is."

Jackson let that sink in for a moment. He couldn't imagine a life where there was so much hatred, so much mistrust, and fighting against each other. He had been brought up by people who loved and cared for each other, he had always felt safe and protected, at least until these strange men in black suits had first shown up. He didn't know his birth parents very well yet, but Dana had spoken of love, both in the morgue and just now, and Mulder acted like he cared about her very much. They were good people, driven by love, not by hate. They made him feel cared for. Since the assassination of the Van De Kamps, he had felt alone and entirely on his own, but it seemed he had belonged to someone all the time. Maybe he had been wrong, maybe Dana and Mulder, his birth parents, were able to protect him after all. He could at least give it a try, couldn't he? "Where are we going?" he asked.

"We have a house out in the countryside," Mulder answered from the front. "It's secluded and well protected. We should go there, get a hot drink and some food and decide in the comfort of a warm, safe place what to do next. We'll be there in about an hour."

"Good idea, Mulder. Let's go home," Dana agreed.

Jackson turned his head away from Scully on the word 'home' and looked out of the window to hide his happy smile. His limbs felt light all of sudden as if a lead weight had been lifted off his body. He was glad that the rest of the trip was silent, that neither of them tried to engage him in a conversation. Mulder focused on driving them to their place as fast as possible, pushing the speed limit, and Dana leaned her head against the headrest. Surprisingly, she was asleep in a matter of minutes.

"She always falls asleep in the car," Mulder said when he caught Jackson's puzzled look at her sleeping form. "The motion lulls her to sleep."

Jackson only nodded. For the rest of the ride, he watched the dark scenery passing by outside with a feeling of warmth spreading through his body. The feeling replaced the cold fear he had been so used to during the past months, and it was more than welcome.

#xf fanfic #msr #Jackson aka William #Scully's baby was no experiment #Mulder is William's dad #season 11

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whateverisbeautiful · 5 years ago

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Reveling in Richonne

#138: The Presence (9x04)

While Rick and Michonne were separate for most of 9x04 there were still a lot of significant stuff with them so I have to break down what goes on in Rick and Michonne’s final day before their whole world changes. 👌🏽 Starting with Michonne’s eventful day where she has to be in the presence of Negan. 😑

But Negan also gets to learn that when he’s in front of Michonne, he’s in the presence of a queen.

We cut to Michonne and Judith sitting outside their home and Michonne is working on the charter while Judith sits with her, watching her mom be a diplomatic icon. And they hear a knock so Michonne gets up to see who it is and on her way over she touches Judith’s head and says “I’ll be right back, baby.” A precious little Mama Michonne moment.

So Michonne talks with Nora and I like to see Michonne interacting with a new person, who appears to be a friend. Nora gives the president an update on some stuff going on in the community, including that the drama king is not eating.

Michonne lets Nora know that she’ll handle it cuz it’s her responsibility and it’s nice that, as much as Michonne has on her plate and as much as she has zero desire to spend time with Negan, she’s willing to add this to her plate cuz that’s what leaders do. 👌🏽

Michonne goes to Negan’s cell and I was low key quite curious cuz I had been wanting Negan to get to have an interaction with Michonne where he gets to more formally see who this queen is. And what better way to start that then her placing the plate down in front of him and standing like a boss as she tells him in a matter of fact tone, “The hunger strike ends today.” 👏🏽👏🏽

Negan says he’s not on strike, he’s just not wanting to eat but, “it’s nice to know that you care.” But Michonne clears that up to let him know the real reason is, “We’re keeping you alive, and the living eat. So eat, Negan.”

It’s also funny that she says it’s a nice day cuz she knows good and well Negan can’t enjoy that day. I’m here for the subtle shade. 😁 She tells him when she comes back in an hour she wants that food on his plate gone. She’s got enough people to mother, but clearly she now has to add his trifling self to the list.

And then he has the nerve to ask if that’s all she’s got and I love her response and delivery of the line, “I got better things to do.” 😂😎

Negan says if she wants him to eat then he wants her to stay and talk to him and I was like Negan I get it, everyone wants to be in Michonne’s presence but no, she doesn’t have time for you to try your mind games on her. Not today. Not ever.

Negan says he’s proof that they’re making a new civilization and so he uses that as leverage to get her to stay and talk, cuz then he’ll eat. And he says “I mean that’s what your boyfriend says.” Correction: that’s what her husband & soul mate says. 💯

But I do like that at least we know by now that Negan has realized Rick and Michonne are a couple.

Michonne’s willing to sit with Negan for just twenty minutes, which is quite generous. But she’s still very much in control of the situation as she takes a chair and sits and says, “You wanna talk? Let’s talk.”

Negan is so used to being able to take control of the moment within five seconds of interacting with someone, but those games don’t work so easily with Michonne.

So it’s implied that Michonne tells Negan about how she spends her day and we come into the scene where Negan says it sounds more boring than his day. Which...

He continues trying to provoke her by saying she’s the one stuck with the C-team while Rick and co get to be out there doing important stuff. Clearly he’s learned Michonne is one of their A team members so he asks why it is she’s been tasked with more domestic duties instead. And I was like; look what Negan’s not finna do is try to cause division between R&M. It’s a waste of time and energy cuz nothing breaks that bond. 👏🏽

Michonne challenges his point, asking, “You think I’m stuck?” and Negan answers saying just like he’s not meant to be in this cell, there’s a warrior in her that’s not meant to spend her days, “planting kale and kissing boo boos” but this silly fool doesn’t realize Michonne’s multidimensional so she can do all of that and then some at the same dang time. Cuz 👸🏽.

Michonne goes on to say, “You think that’s all this is? We’re rebuilding the world.” I’m glad she doesn’t let him downplay what she’s doing. She sees the importance in all of these things, no matter how small or seemingly “trivial”. None of it makes her less of a warrior or trapped in any way, and in fact it all contributes to the civilization they’re trying to bring forth.

She tells him they’re at the start of everything with nothing holding them back while Negan rots away with nothing. And that’s the thing, I don’t know how much of the Grimes family unit Negan has gotten to see at this point, but if he saw them together, he’d know Michonne has a whole lot more to live for than he thinks.

It’s funny that Negan attempts to play the wife card with Michonne by saying he’s grateful his wife didn’t have to see him like this, in attempt to appeal to Michonne and gain sympathy. But Michonne’s ready with the amused response of how his wife probably wouldn’t have wanted to see the guy he was before he ended up in this cell either.

I feel like Negan tries to bring up how great his wife was and how she deserved better cuz he wants Michonne to start thinking about if she too is that wife who deserves better...but his manipulation can stay home cuz Michonne knows who she is. 🙄

Michonne asks what happened to his wife, allowing them to have a more human connection. Negan says she passed form cancer and how they would have loved to have a kid and specifically a kid like Carl.

He tells Michonne, “We would have loved to have a kid like Carl. You were lucky” And the “you were lucky” part indicates the fool finally knows that Carl was Michonne’s kid...at the same time miss me with all this Carl remorse from Negan, cuz the man had multiple moments of almost killing him.

Then, Michonne says she thinks about Carl everyday which is so sweet and so heartbreaking.

And she says “But he’s still here. In everything we do. I look around and I see him everywhere.” And that is just powerful and heartwarming. I love her saying this and how Carl is still so apart of her.

It’s sweet knowing she can find comfort in looking at their thriving community and seeing Carl in that. I’m sure a huge reason why she’s been so committed to investing in this community is because it’s an investment in Carl. She feels his presence here. 😌 And taking care of this community is how she continues to take care of her son.

Negan asks Michonne if she sees Carl in this cell which, again, I was like I’m gonna need Negan to stop using this moment as leverage to try manipulating her into whatever agenda he has. Michonne is not the one.

But I like that she reiterates, “Everywhere.” Especially cuz Carl is the only reason Negan is in a cell and not six feet under ground...so yeah she definitely sees Carl in this cell.

And then Negan quickly picks up on the fact that Carl wasn’t Michonne’s first kid. I like the wording of saying, “Carl wasn’t your first” cuz it implies again this understanding that Carl is her child.

When he brings this up, Michonne immediately goes on defense and reminds him he only has a few more minutes to eat before she’s gone.

Negan picks up a lot from her response and can tell he’s onto something personal with her, so he insensitively keeps pushing by asking, “How did he die? It was a “he” wasn’t it? Did he have your eyes” and hearing that had me like...

The disrespect to use the knowledge of her deceased child to try and get under her skin. Negan, nobody wants to have these super personal conversations with you. He was out of line asking all that. 😑 I wanted Michonne to get a chance to talk about her sons but it just had to be with Negan of all people. :/

She tells him very matter of fact, that, “His name was Andre. And he just didn’t make it”. Negan says he’s sorry but Michonne lets him know she’s made her peace with it.

And Michonne truly is a strong woman for having done the work to make peace with such a tragedy in her life. And it’s cool that we got to watch her journey of “coming back” and making her peace. So much so, that she can now be at this point in her life where her family has blossomed and is continuing to grow.

Negan then says it’s better this way for the both of them with their losses. When he tries to say that he and her are the same, Michonne is adamant that they aren’t. But Negan is adamant that they are cuz he tells her “We were built for more. We still are, Michonne.”

It’s annoying that Negan really thought he could use such transparent tactics to get in Michonne’s head. He wants her to feel like the discontent housewife who needs to get away but like I said; Michonne is not the one. 💯

He says that behind walls and bars they die, but uh Michonne is one of the ones who lives so Negan, you thought.

But his words do resonate a bit when he tells Michonne how being out there is like an addiction to them. That’s something Michonne has felt and known before.

It’s what she spoke about to Rick in 5x11 when she expressed learning how the fight turns on you if you get too addicted to it. And it’s what she seems to be wrestling with in the montage in this episode too. This need to be out there fighting the fight is a need she feels strongly, to the point where Negan could get her to at least ponder if it’s an addiction.

So Michonne quickly stands up, not wanting to hear anymore because she wants to believe that she’s put that addiction to being out there behind her. But part of her is not so certain.

Negan says he knows she knows what he’s talking about and it’s why she’s grateful too. She asks, “Grateful for what?” and Negan has the audacity to say, “That Andre is gone. Because you know all he would’ve done is make you weak.” Where is this man’s hometraining?? 🤔 Like who thinks it’s okay to talk like this to someone, and especially to get this personal with someone you don’t really know?

And unlike Negan, it’s not all about selfishly attaining individual strength and tyrannical power. For some people, like Michonne, strength can be garnered in protecting others, not just looking out for yourself.

Michonne’s ticked off with Negan trying her this way and annoyed that, while it took him a minute, he did manage to find the right button to push, so she throws his tray of food and leaves. But she doesn’t just leave it at that.👌🏽👸

🏽gifs source: @michonnegrimes

#richonne #s9 #9.04 #her presence cannot be denied

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chrono-logy-blog · 6 years ago

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Ativision/Blizzard layoffs and community DoomSaying

There have been a lot of discussions and emotions in the world of Activision and Blizzard Entertainment in recent days, and events have sparked a lot of thought and responses from the business world and the gaming community. For those who are unaware, on Tuesday, February 12th, Activision/Blizzard laid off approximately 8% of their workforce, around 800 workers, this coming after the company reported their quarterly profit analysis for the 4th quarter of 2018, as well as the yearly report for 2018 as a whole. There were a lot of layers to the report and the decision to lay off so many workers, so it is understandable that people may be unable or unwilling to process all the information provided to them. Like many others, I myself had a very emotional and passionate reaction to the whirlpool of information and misinformation that surrounded Tuesday. While pondering my own feelings and how to best express them, it became clear that there was a lot to say, and that a blog post would be the only appropriate and efficient way to get out both information and my reactions. So I am going to take a brief moment to introduce myself, give you a little background, and then we will get to breaking down the profit reports, the layoffs, and what all of this information means for Blizzard in the future. If you wish to know more about me, I am an open book in DMs or comments, as well as available on multiple other social media platforms. This introduction, however, is focused on the information you need to know about me for the relevance of the topic at hand. My name is Michael, and I am known over gaming social media outlets as "Chrono." I have been playing World of Warcraft since 2009, specifically near the release of Patch 3.2.0, otherwise known as "Call of the Crusade" during Wrath of the Lich King. After playing WoW for a few months, I fell in love with Blizzard storytelling and began expanding my interests in the company. 10 years later I have played every game produced since then, fallen in love with countless other Blizzard stories, specifically Starcraft II: Legacy of the Void and the original story of Diablo III. I am something of a staunch defender of Blizzard and the decisions they make, and it that will probably become more clear as the article goes on. In the interest of full disclosure, yes, I love Blizzard Entertainment and I always will, and I think they do a much better job than their community gives them credit for.

That being said, let's dive right into the information that probably had the most emotion attached to it on Tuesday, which was the layoff of about 8% of employees at Activision/Blizzard. There is nothing one person can say to ease the pain of so many lost opportunities. I have read several tweets and statements from former employees, expressing their sadness about what happened to them. Nothing I write here is meant to diminish the struggle those people and their families now face. Every single person who lost their job as a result of these layoffs has my sincerest and most heartfelt sympathies. I wish every single one of them the very best, because they deserve it. I don't know anyone personally affected, but I can imagine none of them will ever be able to replace their work at Blizzard. I know I wouldn't be able to if I was in their shoes. With that in mind, it's a struggle to witness. I know companies have to make hard decisions like these, but at the same time, I personally cannot help but believe there is always a better path. I would never presume to know better than the leaders of the company, but it is frustrating that in 2019, we still cannot find a better way to restructure a company aside from scrapping such a large portion of the workforce. At the same time, it is important to remember that these lost jobs were not overly about money and profits. Granted, its big business, everything ultimately comes down to money and profits. We'll get to the profit analysis in a moment, but suffice it to say that 2018 overall was a very good year for the company, profit-wise. So these layoffs are about the structure of the company and bringing in fresh blood and new ideas on how to grow into the future. This is not to say that there is a viable excuse for huge cuts to jobs, especially when these people worked day and night to get the company where it is now, but Blizzard seems to understand this, and is doing some small gestures to try and ease the pain of their decisions. After the layoffs happened on Tuesday, Blizzard President, J. Allen Brack, had this to say:

"This was an extremely difficult decision, and we want to acknowledge the effort of everyone who has contributed to Blizzard. To assist with the transition, we are offering each impacted employee a severance package that includes additional pay, benefits continuation, and career and recruiting support to help them find their next opportunity. These people are members of the Blizzard family—they’ve cared deeply and contributed greatly to our work here and we are extremely grateful for all they’ve done."

This does not, of course, instantly absolve the company of the layoff of about 800 workers, but at least there is an acknowledgment of the struggle of their former employees. It is also important to note that quarter 1 of 2019 is the first real business quarter of the Presidency of J. Allen Brack, who took over for Mike Morhaime towards the end of 2018. This is important because historically, when you have a change of hands like that at such a high level in a big company, the change flows down the corporate ladder and positions will change. Again, this is not an excuse or a justification, but before the intolerable Blizzard fan base starts screaming about their world being on fire, it's important to take a breath and look at the facts.

Speaking of those facts, these layoffs came at the heels of the company's earnings report for quarter 4 of 2018 and the year overall. This is the part where a lot of the misinformation occurs. There is a lot to this report, and admittedly, I am not business savvy enough to understand every aspect of it, but there are some clear defining points, and plans by Blizzard for 2019. First and foremost, so that no one misunderstands this one simple, indisputable fact: Blizzard made more money in 2018 than any year in their history. This seems on the surface to conflict with the layoffs that occured at the same time. If the company is on strong foundations, why would they layoff so many people? There are a couple answers that seem to make the most sense and likely a combination of them is the truth. First, even though 2018 was an amazing year for Activision/Blizzard, the fourth quarter of 2018 did fall short of expectations. The reasons for this are entirely speculation, unless someone has some insight into the minds of the corporate board and CEOs. Likely, however, everyone speculating on why the fourth quarter was a strugglebus experience is simply speculating based on their own broken experiences. Another firm reason for the layoffs despite record profits is, as previously mentioned, the change of hands at the highest level of the company is often met with countless changes flowing down the ranks. The third reason, and the one the company is putting forward the most, is the simple fact that they are reimagining every team and all their development and marketing tactics. Put simply, Blizzard wants new people involved, and cannot or will not hire waves and waves of people without first cutting jobs. Again, none of this is supposed to make anyone feel better about the layoffs, but it is meant to state one thing very clearly: The company is not falling apart. Their PR struggles with Diablo: Immortal or Battle for Azeroth are not tanking the company. There's no impending doom for Blizzard games, and there's certainly no reason for "fans" to abandon ship or throw around their usual doomsaying attitude. The community responses to just about everything since the release of Battle for Azeroth has been atrocious, and if by some miracle this article catches the eye of any Blizzard game developer, I appreciate the fact that you are too nice to lash back at the community, so I am going to do it for you. The sheer disrespect towards people who spend their entire lives making games for us to enjoy, almost entirely over senseless and trivial matters, is ridiculous and unacceptable, especially in the wake of serious matters like 800 people at the company being out of work. One of the Warcraft content creators I have the most respect for, The Lost Codex said it best with a Twitter post aimed at inspiring positive feedback for the developers, mere days before the layoffs occurred:

"The vitriol from the Community has been heartbreaking to witness. Passionate & beautifully creative people have been demonized & instead of spiting at every tweet, let’s cheer them on. Remind them why they started their career path & acknowledge their passion that we all share."

So what does this mean for the company going forward? Well, according to their statements, Warcraft, Hearthstone, Overwatch, and Diablo will all see an increase of around 20% to their development teams. This means more hires and supports the idea that Blizzard is looking for new people and new ideas, rather than hitting the big red button over money problems. It also means that at a minimum, these 4 franchises are continuing into the foreseeable future. As for the other Blizzard IPs, its likely they will conversely take a seat on the back burner, with Starcraft II's WCS the highlight of the other IPs, which is unlikely to die given its massive global following. It's also important to note that World of Warcraft has a set content timeline that cannot and will not be affected by the massive employment changes. Warcraft and Overwatch are clearly set to be the highlights of 2019, with the 3 major Warcraft projects still in motion, and the emphasis on eSports in 2019, which Overwatch has become a pillar of in the Blizzard community. This is about all we know beyond the layoffs at the moment. As a huge Starcraft fan, I'm disappointed that the prospect of the franchise dying after falling in love with the characters and plot lines. I also, however, believe that Blizzard will continue to develop into the future if we the community just give them a chance. They are not evil, they are not out to spite anyone.

Finally, a special message to the Diablo community. Now is the time to quit the whining. Diablo is getting so much future attention. Regardless of what people may think of Diablo: Immortal, there have been no cancellation announcements. Neither have there been any such disappointing news on the subject of Diablo 4, which we know is in the works. The Diablo community is getting everything they want from Blizzard, despite the selfish reactions to Diablo: Immortal and the wait for Diablo 4. (Obviously people have already forgotten how long the wait was for Diablo 3) So, in short, now is the time to be optimistic and give the Devs a chance to please your inflated egos.

To sum up, it was a sad day for the company and the community on Tuesday. I cannot stress enough how much my heart goes out to the 800 workers who lost their jobs. I would be lost in their position, but I know they are stronger people than I, and they will bounce back. It's going to be an off year, a disappointing year to some, but no one should simply be a fan of Blizzard when everything is going well. If we want to call ourselves part of the Blizzard family, now is when the company needs our understanding the most. You can be against the layoffs, you can have constructive criticism of game mechanics, marketing plans, and IP franchises. But I ask... I implore everyone reading this to stay positive and not lash out. Be the Blizzard family everyone deserves. No matter how bleak things seem at the time, I can hold my head high with tears in my eyes, and be proud to be a fan that knows Blizzard will grow from these sad times and create even more amazing gaming experiences in the future. I hope you will join me. Thank you for reading. En Taro Adun, Lok-tar Ogar, and Cheers, Luv.

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chasandres · 7 years ago

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Creating a Better Magic Community

Like many of you, I was shocked and horrified on Saturday when I learned that Christine Sprankle decided to step away from the community due to repeated and targeted harassment from Jeremy of MTG Headquarters/Unsleeved Media as well as continued harassment from other toxic members of the community.

I was shocked, but I wasn’t surprised. Talk to enough women in the Magic community and stories about harassment inevitably crop up. It’s not so much an open secret as a low-grade headache that can turn malignant.

Regardless, I was thrilled to see the community almost entirely united in its support for Christine. On Tuesday, a large group of pros responded to the situation by writing an open letter condemning MTG Headquarters’ actions and pledging to act as allies and advocates for victims of harassment at future events. I’m proud to be part of a community where so many high profile people are taking active steps to ameliorate this situation.

There isn’t much I can add to this specific situation at this point. I’m not here to write more about why Jeremy needs to be banned from YouTube and WotC sanctioned events—other people are doing that already, and they know more about this situation than me. I suspect that this particular dragon will eventually be slain, most people will consider the matter resolved, and we’ll seek to move beyond this dark chapter in our game’s long history.

But MTG Headquarters has more than THIRTEEN THOUSAND followers on Twitter. Unsleeved Media has A HUNDRED AND FORTY FOUR THOUSAND SUBSCRIBERS. Not all of them supported his overt harassment campaign, but overt harassment is only one part of a larger, systemic problem in the Magic community. Taking down an obvious villain is commendable, but if that’s all we do, than we’ve failed to properly learn from this situation. If we truly want to create a more inclusive community, we all have some work to do.

Before getting into the meat of this thing, I want to be very clear about who I am and why I’m writing this. I’m not here to tell stories of harassment or otherwise step on the voices of the community members who fight those battles on a daily basis. Those aren’t my stories to tell. I’ve already heard similar stories to Christine’s pop up on social media over the past few days, and it’s important that we magnify those voices and believe them.

As a heterosexual white man in a position of relative power, (at least in terms of being someone that the greater Magic community has more or less heard of) I’d like to use some of my power for good. We can’t place the burden of action entirely on the victims of harassment—we all have to step up and take some of it on ourselves. This is my best effort to help in any way that I can.

While the open letter pros are doing a commendable job of keeping the watch at large events, this is an issue that starts at the roots—at FNM, in our living room, on Magic Online. We can’t just leave things up to Brad Nelson and Sam Black—we all need to step up.

To that end, I’ve written a lot of this post in second person, using a lot of “you” and “we.” I feel like it’s important to say straight off that the “you” I have in mind are people who look more or less like me. I’m not trying to lecture marginalized members of the Magic community about an issue that they already understand all too well. This is a message for geeky white guys like me.

If you scroll down any Reddit thread about this issue, or you check the mentions on the right Twitter account, or you read the right Facebook page, you’re going to see more than just solidarity. You’re going to see a lot of confusion, and bitterness, and outright hostility over this situation. Some guys are a little bit ambivalent about what the heck our role is in all of this and how we can help. Others feel attacked and feel like “both sides” should be considered. Still others are unconvinced that there’s a problem at all.

I’ve been around the internet long enough to know that my message is going to fall on a whole lot of deaf ears, but I want to do my best to try and reach everybody I can. At the very least, I want to write this post to remind myself what I can do to help. When I say that we’re all somewhat complicit, I’m including myself. We all have to do better. All of us.

“I haven’t sent any harassing DMs or made any horrible comments on anybody’s videos or articles. Why are you putting me on blast?”

The harassment problem in the Magic community is systemic and multi-layered. I can count at least three different problems, and you don’t have to be actively harassing anyone to be involved with two of them:

1) Active, toxic harassers. These are the people doing the worst, most heinous stuff. These are people who troll women in comments sections, spout racist and anti-Semitic comments at tournaments, and worse. Most of recognize that we shouldn’t be these people.

2) Enablers, both active and passive. The problem is that most of us are guilty of enabling those harassers at one point or another.

Sometimes we downplay it. (“He’s harmless. He’s got a good heart. He’s just a little awkward.”)

Sometimes we justify it. (“We wouldn’t be able to get a draft going every week without him.”)

Sometimes we straight-up defend it. (“He shouldn’t have said that, but do you have to be so sensitive?”)

3) People saying or doing hurtful stuff that they didn’t think about very much. You could also call these microaggressions, but I know that some of you are put off by the language of social justice, so I want to spell out this problem as clearly as possible. The point is that there are lots of phrases, gestures, and actions that (either inadvertently or on purpose) create a barrier between the dominant voices in the community and those who feel like outsiders. You might not sense it, but they do.

These smaller offenses can be tough to pin down, but the only way to do it is by listening to the people who are affected by these actions, believing their stories, and changing our behavior accordingly.

For example, talk to almost any woman who has ever played a game of tournament Magic and she’ll tell you a dozen stories about being disrespected at Magic tournaments due to her gender. It’s usually not as simple as someone walking up to her and saying, “you’re a woman, stop playing Magic” – it’s hearing stuff like, “did your boyfriend teach you to play?” and “I thought you’d be easier to beat!” over, and over, and over again.

If you’re a white guy like me who has never experienced this, try to imagine how disheartening this must feel, especially on days when you’re running bad and your deck just isn’t behaving. A lot of us play Magic because we like to experiencing that feeling of mastery, especially when the rest of life isn’t going so hot. Now imagine a wry smirk of recognition on the face of your opponent when he beats you because of a lucky top deck. I knew I’d beat the girl. This match was never in doubt. Would Magic still feel like an escape for you? Are you sure?

“I’ve been a member of the Magic community for years, and I don’t see why I should have to hide who I am or censor myself! This is my home, and I should feel safe to communicate however I want.”

I can’t convince anyone that empathy is important. If you don’t believe that it’s worth making small sacrifices or accommodations in order to make another person feel safe or comfortable, that’s on you.

For the rest of us…well, these requests are so small, and they mean so much. Nobody’s asking you give away your Scarab Gods, stop attending FNM, or only talk on alternate Thursdays. It’s basic stuff like not using “gay” as a slur and leaving your half-naked Anime girl playmat at home. You’re not being asked to hide major parts of your identity, and you don’t have to “hide who you are.” You just have to stop acting like an abrasive jerk and maybe stop using a couple of problematic words.

In return, the payoff is massive. We’re always talking about how Magic’s player base isn’t growing like it used to. Well, I know at least a dozen women who stepped away from the community because they didn’t feel welcome. Imagine if we all tried a little bit harder to make our little corner of geekdom a little bit friendlier?

“But political correctness has run amok!”

Whenever I have a conversation about political correctness with someone who dislikes the concept, it usually devolves into some grand hypothetical conversation about freedom of speech in stand-up comedy or edgy TV shows or whatever.

I’m happy to have that discussion with any of you fine folks the next time we’re at an event together, but it’s not pertinent to our conversation today. I feel like we’re all mature enough to recognize that a Magic tournament is not the same as a comedy club or an R-rated film.

“We shouldn’t be nicer to people because of the slippery slope!” is a bad hill to die on.

“I’m sick of being called a sexist all the time. I’m not a sexist!”

Extreme binary thinking is one of the biggest obstacles to self-improvement, and it’s a paradigm that you’re going to have to break free from if you want to experience any sort of meaningful growth.

Think back to the last time someone accused you of saying something racist, sexist, or otherwise harmful. If you’re anything like me, chances are your initial reaction is to get super defensive. I’m not racist, you think, your mind instantly flashing to a hooded KKK member. I can’t be racist because of <insert justification here>, I didn’t really mean any harm by my comments, and I’m certainly no KKK member, so this person must be overreacting!

This is an understandable reaction, but it’s important to learn how to move beyond it. As a society, we are TERRIBLE with this sort of nuance. We assume that there are “good” people (non-racists), and “bad” people (racists), and nobody wants to be lumped in with all the Hitlers. Instead, we blame the people leveling the accusations at us for overreacting, or for being too politically correct, or for jumping to conclusions based on “one stupid joke.” Some of us even double down on our suspect behavior, believing that it’s important to stake out some sort of “middle ground.”

But the problem isn’t them, it’s us. There are no good guys and bad guys. We can ALL do better. It’s okay to feel that initial stab of shame and defensiveness, but then it’s important to really look inside you and realize that what you said was hurtful. In fact, it hurt them so much that they felt the need to speak up and say something to somebody THAT THEY KNEW WOULD REACT DEFENSIVELY. That’s not an easy task for most people, and it’s extra hard for a marginalized person in a community where they don’t feel safe.

Look—I’m no exception to this rule. When I go back and watch some of the videos I recorded back in high school and college, I can’t help but cringe at some of the language I used and the jokes I made. In ten years, I’ll probably feel the same way about some of what I say now. It’s not like I was a horrible sexist back in 2007 and a totally enlightened person now—it’s that I’ve made (and continue to make) an effort to learn, grow, and improve. Being a good person is about constantly seeking to improve, same as being a good Magic player.

“All of this harassment talk makes me sick to my stomach. What can I do to help?”

First, listen to the people telling their stories of harassment. Internalize them, validate them, believe them.

This is pretty easy when the harasser is someone like Jeremy, who is well-known to be a toxic member of the community. It’s harder when it’s someone beloved. It’s even harder when it’s someone who you know personally. Your initial reaction may be defensiveness—it often is for me—but there’s a time and a place for that, and it’s not now.

Remember: we are mature enough to handle these situations with poise and nuance. Some people just need to be sat down and told to stop behaving badly, while others need to be banned and ostracized. We won’t be able to call out either type of harasser without creating an environment where people feel safe coming forward.

Second, you need to get more comfortable calling out the harassers in your own life. It’s MUCH harder for victims of harassment to call it out than it is for us bystanders, which is why it’s important that we not let any of this toxicity stand even when it doesn’t directly affect us.

Don’t just say something at FNM—speak up during your kitchen table drafts, too. “We don’t say stuff like that here,” is a good turn of phrase to keep in your back pocket. It’s important to sweep away that “boy’s club” atmosphere for good, because it can permeate out from late-night hotel room games into the community at large.

A lot of these people aren’t evil, they’re just prickly, misguided, and socially awkward. Some of them will double-down on their bad behavior and are unreachable, but I have to believe that at least some of them really do mean well. The only way to find out is by changing the climate and calling out the unacceptable stuff whenever we can, wherever we can. Otherwise, they’ll keep driving people away.

Of course, there are some actions that require a harsher response. Jeremy has an entire platoon of followers who will be harder to pin down. And these guys aren’t outsiders, they’re members of the community. They’re guys that you and I both know.

If you know about someone who likes to troll marginalized members of the Magic community on social media, you need to do everything you can to get them to stop. “It’s just a joke” should not be an acceptable defense at this point. These people need to understand that their actions have consequences.

To this end, try to get more comfortable appealing to authority figures like LGS owners and judges about stuff like this. It’s easier for people like us to speak up about harassing language when we hear it, and most of it is a disqualifying offense in sanctioned play. In smaller or casual events, remember that store owners are too busy running the shop to know what’s going on in the back room. Feel free to enlighten them.

This is especially important when dealing with constant, repeatable offenders. These are the people who lower the attendance at local events because large swaths of the player base don’t feel comfortable gaming with them. We need to do a better job of weeding them out and letting them know that they need to choose between being a productive member of the community or no longer being a part of the group.

Lastly, never assume that you are above it all. I’m certainly not. Remember that making mistakes in the social arena are like misplays in Magic: each one is a chance to improve, to become more precise, to grow as an empathetic person. The important thing is to acknowledge it, apologize, and do your best not to make that mistake again.

I’m sick of hearing “Magic is awesome, but the community kind of sucks.” The community is all of us—you, me, and everyone else who has ever picked up a Magic card and felt that instant, powerful connection. We all have a right to thrive within it, to feel comfortable slinging spells in shops and tournaments around the world. I’m willing to fight for that right. Are you?

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