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yourcreepyneighborhoodelftwink · 4 years ago

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As the Hero fell upwards through the sands of time, the days rewinding like the gears of a clock, he landed calmly on the cobblestones of Clock Town Square, at the dawn of the first day. He had been through this many times before, and had grown accustomed to reliving the same 3 days, helping the same people with the same schedules, slowly making more and more progress each time. At least he didn't feel an enormous time crunch, even with the threat of the moon hanging above him, he was always able to rewind the days, and could take days to rest, to sleep or ride Epona or play with the inhabitants.

He rarely did, but it was nice that the option was there.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Tatl getting his attention with a soft tinkling sound, looking over at the stand near the Deku flower, and the note pinned to it.

"That's certainly new…" she said cautiously as they approached, Tatl reading aloud to Link.

The pair exchanged a confused and frightened look. It wasn't signed, but they knew exactly who left the note for them.

BEN sat on the edge of the field, their boots hanging over the barrier where the grass turned into sand, looking out at the canyon leading to the beach. It had been so long since they had entered their game, only playing it from the outside. Perhaps they had been showing too much love to Breath of the Wild lately and not enough to the dark masterpiece of their former prison, or perhaps it was the only world they could enter that felt truly real, where the sun was warm and the wind blew. They HAD become a bit spoiled, learning that adding weather effects and random wind blowing did wonders to immersion when they entered a game.

They closed their eyes, speaking up before looking behind them.

"You didn't have to rush over here. "as possible" doesn't mean "instantly", you know…" BEN said gently, lowering their ears with a guilty smile.

Link frowned softly, keeping his distance from the elf. He couldn't draw his sword AND sign, after all, so he would have to make due. "You didn't specify. I've learned better than to provoke you."

BEN couldn't exactly blame his caution. It's why they were here, after all. "My bad. I'll be more specific next time. But I suppose it's neither here nor there now…"

"...is there something you want, BEN? " Link asked, clearly a bit anxious by being asked to meet.

"...a few things. I won't lie and say there isn't a favor I'd like to ask the both of you-"

"Like you have any right to ask Link for anything, at this point!" Tatl quickly interjected, turning red in anger. "You've terrorized us for no good reason, revealed truths we didn't need to know, and then just left us alone one day!"

"-BUT," BEN continued, "that isn't my main reason for being here. First and foremost... You're long overdue for an apology from me."

Link and Tatl looked at each other in confusion. "...pardon? " Link questioned.

"...I've been doing a lot of thinking and self reflecting lately. Especially because I finally have reason to want to improve myself. And I think I've gotten pretty far in trying to right the wrongs of my past, and try to change as a person. But I still never gave the both of you a proper apology, or even an explanation for how I treated you…" BEN sheepishly said.

Link looked down at the seated person, absolutely dumbfounded. All the times he had been attacked by BEN came instantly into his mind, only to not even be able to so much as scratch them in return, even the might of a Goron doing nothing to them. All the times he had been followed and told he was insignificant, worthless, a joke of a hero, told he was nothing more than a bland, boring conduit for the player of a game in a world far grander than his own. Only for BEN to just... Disappear one day. Gone. Vanish into thin air, and only return occasionally, seemingly at their leisure. Something... Didn't add up to him, and he wasn't sure what on Earth made them suddenly stop tormenting him, and now want to make things right.

"...I'll hear you out, at least," Link finally said, stepping forward to sit next to him. If nothing else, were he going to harm Link, BEN would have done it by now.

"Not that it makes us all hunky-dory yet," Tatl offered, settling on Link's shoulder.

BEN smiled softly, letting out a relieved breath. They stayed quiet for a moment, deciding their words carefully. "I'm not... Sure where to start. So much has happened to me. I guess I should start when we first met. When I first entered this game. It was my favorite game, and with me when I died," they started.

Tatl interrupted, jingling softly. "...when you died?"

BEN nodded softly. "When I died. I was just about your age, Link, about 12. More specifically, when I was murdered. Father simply... Got tired of me, I suppose. He tricked my religion's leader- we refer to him as The Father- into thinking it was my time to Ascend when it wasn't. The whole explanation of my belief system isn't important in this, just that I was robbed of something very important and sacred to me because of it."

"That sounds horrible," Link signed.

"It was... And I was only 12, and not the greatest at understanding or expressing my emotions... I was so angry, absolutely furious at losing that chance, as what had been done to me. I've always had a strong sense of justice, if you can believe it. I don't easily stand for people wronging me. But when I died, my spirit was trapped in this game. All that rage bottled up, with nowhere to release it... Until I started releasing it on you. Very unfairly."

"I'll say," Tatl said, though there wasn't much bite behind her words.

"Eventually, someone played the game, and I was able to break free, find someone else to torment. And after that, start lashing out at everyone who had hurt me, making them

PĄŸ,"

BEN continued, their voice glitching out just a bit at the final word.

"...i moved on to more innocent people after that. I was out of control. To the point where my goddess, Luna, intervened. She stopped me herself, gave me a new body, made me into a young adult so I wouldn't be trapped as a child forever, and I carry the souls of everyone I hurt in my blind sadism, until I join her again one day. And I've worked hard to be a better person now. I've found so much to make my life wonderful, and to make the most of my second chance…" BEN trailed off.

"...but you still want to make amends to everyone you've hurt," Link finished for them.

"...I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't think I can be forgiven. But I really AM sorry for how I treated you. Both of you. Of everyone I've lashed out at, you're the least deserving of it. No matter WHAT'S happened to me, it's NO excuse for how much I've hurt you. And even if you never forgive me, I would love the opportunity to make it up to you…" they finished softly.

"...would you excuse us for a moment?" Tatl asked, flying a slight distance away. Link glanced over at BEN before rising to his feet to follow, and speak with the fairy alone. BEN politely stayed looking forward, allowing them the privacy.

"...do you believe them?" Tatl asked.

"...yeah. They seem genuine," Link admitted.

Tatl nodded softly. "I do, too. There's much simpler ways to trick us or convince us if that was their intention. Even if they said they wanted a favor, this is a lot of lengths to go to for just that…"

"I wonder what they want," the hero mused, glancing over at BEN.

"...maybe ask? Perhaps you can also ask a favor of him, test his sincerity," she said.

"What would that be? " he asked.

"Well, you've said you're curious about his world, whatever it is that our entire world is only a game in, a small part of. Maybe you can ask to explore his world. It'd give you the opportunity to spend more time with him and let him earn your trust, anyway," she offered.

Link nodded softly, then whistled to get BEN's attention. "Alright, BEN, we've talked it over. First, I want to know what favor it is you want…"

"Actually, it's a favor specifically from Tatl," they explained.

"Wait, me?" she questioned.

"...my daughter has watched me play this game a lot. And she's absolutely fallen in LOVE with you, she ADORES seeing you on screen. Her first birthday is in a few months, and there's... Circumstances about my life, and now hers, that will make her very different from other children, with so many secrets to keep. She could really use having a companion by her side, a friend to offer wisdom and company and help when she needs it. A copy of you, like how I copied Epona, to watch over her and make her feel less alone…" BEN said.

"...you have a daughter?" Link asked.

"And a boyfriend. Soon to be husband," BEN explained, holding up their hand to show off their ring.

Tatl let out a soft chime at this. "Well... I'm certainly flattered you think I'd make a good companion to her…"

BEN smiled softly. "I don't expect an answer today, don't worry. There's still a few months before her birthday. And I understand if it's not something you're comfortable with…"

"...we have a proposal for you, in that case," Link began. "You want to make amends to us. We're admittedly curious about this world outside of our own. So, let us explore. Show us your life, and what lies outside this "game", and earn our trust. Then we'll consider it."

BEN thought this over. They'd have to be careful, but this wasn't impossible… "...I can't completely remove you from the game. I'd have to copy you, then merge the copy and your true self after. It's basically the same thing, though, you'd keep the memories and everything. And you'd have to do EXACTLY as I say, I... REALLY can't have attention drawn to myself or the people I live with. If there's something that catches your attention, you can't gawk, just stay calm and ask me. And there's going to be a LOT, the real world is nothing like this one. Hylian sign doesn't match up with any sign language in my world, so you'll at least be able to speak freely. But if you can do that, and trust that I'm keeping us both safe when I tell you to do something... I'll happily show you around."

Link considers this, then nods. He holds out his hand to BEN, who shakes it.

"Then we have a deal."

#the hero of thunderthighs #creepypasta #ben drowned #fic #fanfic #(y'all deserve to know the Google Docs title for this is 'uh-oh BENny-wenny done a fucky-wucky')

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renegadewangs · 5 years ago

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Ace Mindhunter - 1st Interview

Characters: Simon Blackquill, Athena Cykes, Shi-Long Lang, and a rogues gallery of AA villains. Fandom: Ace Attorney. Pairings: N/A. Warnings/rating: 16+, I would say. Talk of heavy themes such as death and abuse, plus cursing. Spoilers for every AA game up to Spirit of Justice, AAI2 included. Gratuitous amounts of headcanon for antagonists. Summary: Simon Blackquill is roped into a Behavioral Analysis project along with Athena Cykes. They must sit down with convicted murderers for interviews, in hopes of finding out just what drove them to their convoluted crimes.

((A/N: This fic is based on Mindhunter, which is not only a good series on Netflix but an actual book written by John Douglas, the FBI agent who played a very important role in the Behavioral Science Unit from 1977 to 1995. Behavioral Science aimed towards serial killers is a real thing and it’s fascinating. As an additional note, the prison’s setup is based on AAI2′s explanation of how it all works over there, so if you never absorbed any info from that game, you might be a bit lost.

Anyway, mind the warnings up there and enjoy!))

1st Interview Dee

Date: June 5th 2028 Time: 2:02 PM Location: Interview Room. Dee Vasquez was a woman in her mid forties, though the only reason Simon Blackquill knew this was because the paperwork in front of him told him so. Her short hair was as black as could be and her features showed virtually no wrinkles. Just as most other convicted felons, she was wearing the standard prison uniform of black and white stripes. There was also a metallic bracelet around her wrist, which ensured she couldn't leave the room without suffering a nasty disciplinary shock. Harsh as it seemed, that measure still paled in comparison to the shackles Simon had worn up until half a year ago. His own wrists itched at the mere memory of it. He had seen her around death row during his own incarceration, but he'd never paid her any mind. She had been very adapt at keeping to herself, just as he himself had been. There was something to be said about the company of fellow inmates, but that 'something' was not Simon's cup of tea. He'd had Taka. As far as he could recall, Vasquez had never been in the company of a therapy animal. “I will be recording this conversation. Is that all right?” he asked, sliding a device towards the center of the table which stood between them. As he felt it best to have her agreement on tape as well, it was already cementing the sounds in the room. Vasquez glanced down at it from the corner of her eye, but said nothing. Her expression, one of boredom, implied that this interview would be more troublesome than advertised. 'An easy start', Lang had told him. 'A pain in the arse', Simon concluded at this time. “... I shall accept that as confirmation.” “Hm.” Simon drew in a quick breath through his nose, then peered down at the prepared statement he was meant to give. Even looking at those words made him feel more formal than he would ever hope to be. Still, it was expected of him to say these things out loud. “Now, I am here on behalf of Interpol's Behavioral Analysis Unit,” he ultimately began. “What you discuss with me is subject to Interpol's confidentiality clause and cannot be used against you in your applications for parole. I'll be asking you about your family history, antecedent behavior and thought patterns surrounding the crime you have committed. Our goal is to compile several psychological profiles and, ultimately, use them to create a statistical analysis which will not include your name.” Vasquez crossed her arms over her chest, sitting back in her chair. “What is the meaning of this? I was convicted almost twelve years ago.” “The lady is quite observant,” Simon replied dryly. “As I've already stated, your answers will not serve as a weapon we may wield against you. Rather, by delving into your history and psyche, we hope to corner and disarm others like you.” “Others like me?” “Those who would take another's life and avoid their responsibility in the matter. Specifically, those who go to asburd lengths to shift the blame of that crime onto an innocent bystander.” “Innocent? Hardly.” Simon felt his eyes narrow at the statement. “You don't believe that Will Powers was unrelated to Jack Hammer's death?” “That is not what I said. However, I believe that no man is innocent.” The air with which Vasquez had uttered that statement was so very nonchalant, it came across as a fact of life rather than biased opinion. She still hadn't glanced Simon's way yet, either. She did nothing but stare up towards a far corner of the room. Why she had even agreed to sit across from him was difficult to estimate. Perhaps she'd simply wanted a change of scenery. Simon placed a hand on the table and leaned forward. “Even if no man is innocent, you are the one donning the garb of the common criminal.” “... Shouting.” “I beg your pardon?” “Out in the courtyard. Two men are shouting. Do you hear them?” Closing his eyes and straining his ears, he could indeed distinguish it. A pair of deep voices was engaged in an argument somewhere. That something so faint would catch Vasquez's attention was ludicrous, but then, perhaps anything was more interesting than Simon's words. Taking in a few seconds of the silence which reigned, he thought back to what had roped him into this situation in the first place. ------- Date: June 3rd 2028 Time: 4:23 PM Location: Simon Blackquill's Office. Even with all his past research into the Phantom, Simon had rarely ever spoken to anyone from Interpol. Perhaps it was because he didn't want them to hinder his work, or perhaps it was because Interpol itself hadn't deigned him worthy of their attention. If indeed it was the latter, the events of five months prior must have left such a grand crater that Simon, who was standing in the middle of it all, could no longer be ignored. To have a senior investigator visit him in his humble office would have been considered sudden overkill, were Simon not aware that Shi-Long Lang was long-time friends with the Chief Prosecutor. Simon's first impression was that Lang had walked through the door with extreme reluctance, perhaps even distaste. There was a particularly stiff slouch to his walk which implied as much, but it was the tone of voice which set it into stone. “Simon Blackquill. We meet at last.” “Not for lack of effort from my hand. And that's Prosecutor Blackquill, if you don't mind.” Lang's mouth curled into something of a smirk. As he made no attempt to approach Simon's desk and instead lingered near the door, Simon in turn decided not to get up from his chair. Courtesy was a favor to be repaid, after all. “Quite right. You did not clear your record for nothing. I have to say, though, the image of pencil pusher doesn't suit you at all. Lang Zi says: A wild wolf has no place among tamed retrievers.” “You must have gained the wrong impression of a prosecutor's duties from some of my colleagues. I tend not to push pencils unless the intention is for them to go up a culprit's nose.” “Getting confessions in any way you see fit, huh? That's a Twisted Samurai for ya.” Despite Simon's grin matching Lang's own, there was no covering the elephant in the room. Small talk, no matter how tinged with dark humor, was small talk all the same. The folder clutched in one of the Interpol agent's hands must have been there for a reason. “Agent Lang, humbled as I am that you would travel all the way here to speak with me, I doubt either of us are the sort to beat around the bush. Why are you here?” “Interpol has a project for you.” “I don't work for Interpol. I work for the Chief Prosecutor.” “And that Chief Prosecutor has so kindly agreed to relay all your most challenging cases, so that you may work with Interpol on a part-time basis.” A wild urge to protest dawned on Simon, only to die down as quickly as it'd arisen. If the Chief Prosecutor had agreed to this, it must've been important. Not only that; if Interpol needed assistance from a 'pencil-pushing prosecutor', they must've been desperate. He leaned forward and folded his hands together atop the desk, a very different sort of fighting spirit being born inside him. There was a fire the likes of which he'd never known; a fire which had spent the last five months smoldering due to lack of oxygen. “Is this about the Phantom?” he asked, convinced that he already knew the answer. “No,” was the unfortunate response. Lang finally approached the desk and allowed the folder to drop. It hit the wooden surface with a soft thud. His sharp gaze met Simon's head-on and when he spoke, it was in an impatient manner. “The Phantom is not your concern. It should never have been your concern to begin with.” “Agent Lang-” “Interpol has failed spectacularly in the past, but now that we have that mutt on a leash, I can assure you that the matter is ours to deal with as we see fit. No, you had best forget about it and focus your skills on more pressing, more recent problems.” Simon's eyes flicked towards the folder, then back up to Lang's face. “What is this project, then? Why does Interpol have need for my skills?” “Surely, you must have noticed. Over the past decade or two, Los Angeles has become a hodgepodge of extravagant murders, each more contrived than the next. People can howl all they want about this supposed Dark Age of the Law and how it may or may not have ended, but Interpol sees things differently. There is not a single city in the world which hosts this many desperate and innovative criminals. If there really was some sort of dark age, it was born from the killers themselves. Knowing that much, we need to take into account that fixing the court system won’t do a lick of good.” While disagreement was the first thing on Simon's mind, he decided to give the notion due thought. He visualized Geiru Toneido, who had murdered her own father by suffocating him with udon dough only a few weeks ago. That in itself was already a terrible tragedy, but her attempts to deceive everyone around her instead of accepting her own guilt had bordered on ludicrous. No common killer should have gone that far. If criminals were the ones taking advantage of the Dark Age of the Law to get away with their crimes, then criminals were indeed the root of it all. It came down to people who believed they deserved to get away with their crimes, even if the court system would normally say otherwise. “Then... What, exactly? You believe our water supply to be contaminated?” “I don't believe much of anything, Prosecutor Blackquill,” Lang said dryly, shaking his head. “FBI, CIA, Interpol... They're all scrambling to make sense of it. The Behavioral Analysis Unit-” “Behavioral Analysis?” “No need to act so surprised, I'm sure you know damn well what that unit does. Anyway, they believe the only way to get answers is to take a long, hard look at some of the killers we've caught so far. And I'm not talkin' about means, motive and opportunity- those were already established during the conviction. I mean the actual why of the matter. What drove a human being to that point in their life? Childhood, family, mindset... If we can find a pattern, we can solve murder cases a whole lot faster through profiling. Maybe even prevent them from happening in the first place.” Simon released a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes. “You believe that I ought to be the one to take this long, hard look.” “Again, I don't believe anything. I just do as I'm told.” Lang stepped back from the desk, instead wandering towards the window. “You have a degree in psychology. You have experience with constructing psych profiles. More important than any of that, you have walked the halls of death row yourself.” “You're barking up the wrong tree, Agent Lang.” “I don't think I am. You were virtually one of these killers yourself. They know your name, your reputation. And you know them.” “It is precisely because I know them that I cannot participate in this project,” Simon insisted, his voice taking on a low growl. “I know what it's like to hear the screams of those less lucid than myself. I have been forced to consume that paltry fare the guards claim to be meals, have had to endure the humiliation of sharing a shower with complete strangers. Every day, I recall how it feels to awaken on a hard cot, asking myself whether today would be the day that I die. I am a free man now, Agent Lang, with no intention of returning to that cage willingly.” “No one said you would set foot in death row. The interviews would take place in a specialized visitor's room and the participants of the study may be rewarded for cooperation if you see fit. Consider it an opportunity to pull these poor saps into more pleasant surroundings for a few hours.” “More pleasant surroundings?” Simon snarled, rising to his feet at last to stare Lang down. “Asking them relive their greatest mistake is considered pleasant to you? They already have more than enough time to reflect on what they've done.” “Which means they should be able to answer your questions with ease,” Lang rebuffed. “Listen, I’m not here because I thought I’d give you a fair shot at the job. It definitely wasn’t my idea to send a prosecutor of all people. If it were up to me, one of my most trusted men- or women- would go in there with a list of questions, but these killers don't open up to just anyone. We need to get just the right information to profile them. You fit the bill perfectly, Power of Suggestion and everything, and that's why it’s my job to persuade you to do it. If we don't find out what prompts these people to jump through hoops for killing, you're going to be taking on a lot more cases where the defense will want testimony from clowns and orcas. The Chief Prosecutor agrees, the LAPD agrees, Interpol agrees...” The hawk feather in the corner of Simon's mouth had seen better days, by now. He'd started chewing the tip of it at the start of Lang's tirade and now, fifteen seconds later, the bite marks were irreversible. The proposition made perfect sense, but that didn't mean Simon wanted to do it. Did he even have a choice? Lang didn't seem like the sort to give up easy and if that was how Interpol wished to play, perhaps it could be used to Simon's advantage. He slammed a hand down on his desk to be certain he had Lang's full attention. “I want the Phantom.” “Come again?” “If Interpol demands that I must be the one to interview these killers, then a humble prosecutor such as I is in no place to object. However, I will do a thorough job of it. As the Phantom has claimed at least two victims within our fair city of Los Angeles and went to extremes to cover it up, they have the necessary attributes to fall within the case study.” “I've already told you the Phantom is not your problem.” “If I am to accept this project-” “That's just an excuse and you know it. No one speaks to the Phantom, do you understand? Not even me- and believe me when I say that I would give an arm for the opportunity to exchange words with them. A high-profile liability like that is out of our league.” “Then, we will have to rise to the necessary level, won't we?” Simon grinned, his fingers curling along the desk's surface. “If you wish for me to compile profiles on these killers, then I will do so. However, my one condition is that should these methods be proven successful, Interpol will arrange for an interview with the Phantom. If they do not agree, they'll have to find themselves another former inmate with a psychology degree who excels at drawing the truth from people.” For a few seconds, there was nothing. Then Lang threw his head back and laughed. “All riiight, that's what I like to hear! A passionate predator is a successful one. I'll see what I can do!” “... Good.” “Looking at it from the official point of view, you'd be aiding Interpol as an external consultant and that involves a healthy helping of paperwork. Confidentiality clause and all that. I've got most of the forms here for you to sign.” Lang meandered back over to the desk to indicate the folder. “But more important than the bureaucracy of it all is the more substantial situations. This project requires discretion. We can't be seen as hassling the inmates, or they’ll take measures against us. You need to keep your head down for the most part and play nice with the other kids.” “I understand.” “We can't have you processing your findings in the Prosecutor's Office, and so, you'll have your own little spot in L.A.'s Interpol headquarters. Report there tomorrow morning and they'll show you where to go. Now, as for the matter of your partner-” “My partner?” “You can't very well sit across from a convicted killer by yourself.” “I fail to see why not. I interact with killers before their conviction on a daily basis. That is part of my job as a pencil pusher.” “It's not a question of your grit, it's a question of what Interpol would say if they knew we weren't taking proper precautions. Needless to say, we got in touch with Athena Cykes-” “You did what?!” “Will you stop barking across my words?” Lang snapped at him. “Athena Cykes has partnered with you before and despite her age, she's supposed to be the best when it comes to processing emotional responses. You can draw out all the answers you want with the Power of Suggestion, but we need to know the feelings hiding within those words and that's where her special ability comes in.” “You refuse to let me meet with killers by myself, yet you claim it's wise to have a 19 year-old girl by my side?” “That 19 year-old girl has more of a reputation than you give her credit for. She's a feisty young pup, too. Ready to jump into the action.” “You've already spoken with her?” “She's already agreed.” “Then I refuse.” “Blackquill-” “Prosecutor Blackquill. And I will not allow that girl anywhere near convicted butchers.” Lang grit his jaw, his nostrils flaring. Then he threw a glance down at his watch and shrugged his irritation off. “Fine then. Have at it by yourself, see where it gets you.” ------- Date: June 5th 2028 Time: 2:05 PM Location: Interview Room. This interview was headed nowhere at the most rigid of paces. Simon would have dismissed further attempts as a waste of his time, were it not for Vasquez's MO. She had been convicted on charges of manslaughter out of self-defense, and if indeed it had been self-defense, why had she not outright admitted to that from the start? Why target Will Powers? Had it been out of a grudge, or had she taken advantage of an opportunity regardless of who she trampled under her heel? In order to construct a proper psychological profile, he would need far more answers than Vasquez was willing to provide. The door slammed open quite suddenly and in walked the one person Simon hadn't wanted to see here. There was not a single shred of intimidation to be found in her, as if she'd walked into a grocery store as opposed to a prison. She pulled up a chair, smiling as brightly as ever, and dropped herself down on it. “Buen día! Sorry I'm late! The subway was delayed!” she proclaimed. A pause, then she leaned in closer to the recording device. “This is Athena Cykes, by the way. In case that's needed for documentation.” While Vasquez didn't turn her head, Simon could see that her eyes had moved towards the newcomer. “What are you doing here?” he asked Athena, as he thought he'd made himself quite clear towards Lang. “I'm here to help with the interview, of course! Looks like you don't have any notes yet... That's great, I was worried I might've missed something important! You've already done the explanation and the statement thing, right?” Simon managed to stop himself from grumbling and hit a button to pause the recording. This next bit didn't need to be saved for posterity: “I told Agent Lang that I would handle the matter by myself.” “Right. And Agent Lang told me that you told him that,” Athena replied cheerfully. She took out a small, colorful notebook even as she spoke. “But he also said that you're my peer, not my boss, so if I wanted to take the job you couldn't stop me.” Once again, Simon had to fight a hard battle to swallow his next words. His fierce gaze moved from Athena to Vasquez, only to note that the subject of their study was no longer looking bored. A hint of a smile had come to being on her face. Was she mocking him? Athena hit the button on the recorder again, then turned her attention to Vasquez. “It's an honor to meet you, ma'am! I have to say, I love your work. Samurai Summer, Dynamite Samurai... The original Steel Samurai is great too, of course, but there's something about those old movies that just can't be replicated.” “... You saw Dynamite Samurai? A young girl like you?” Vasquez sounded almost suspicious of the claim and Athena must've caught onto that in a heartbeat. “I did! I must've seen it ten times! When I was growing up in Europe, those old movies would rerun really often in a whole bunch of different languages. Did you know that in the German version, they changed Uncle Samuel to Aunt Sammy?” “... Because Samuel was so effeminate and close to Hiroshi, it raised questions for some.” “Right! I always thought that was weird. But you were the producer, so I've gotta know. Do you think that the change messed with your artistic vision?” “The decision was not mine to make. A producer has no influence over localization. Men felt threatened by such progressive notions and so, they did as they pleased.” Athena started scribbling down a few notes. Simon attempted to read them, only to find himself unable to decipher her handwriting. Hieroglyphs would've been preferable at this point. “That must've struck you as very unfair,” Athena surmised. Though she stopped writing, her pen remained pressed against the paper. “I'm sorry, I didn't have time to read through the profile Interpol gave us, so I'll have to ask a few obvious questions. Will that be all right?” Vasquez glanced towards Athena, only for a second or so. “... Go on.” “What was your family life like, growing up? Were your parents happily married? Any siblings? Things like that.” “My parents were just fine. I had no problems with either of them. They had no problems with each other.” Vasquez paused and her arms, crossed over her chest as they were, strained visibly. “I have two older brothers.” “Really? I don't have any siblings myself, but I hear that brothers can be a pain sometimes.” “They were exceptional pains.” “So you didn't get along with them, huh? Why not?” “They were bullies. They would destroy my things and walk away without so much as a lecture.” Athena was taking notes again, and Simon found himself doing the same. It was a relief that they were finally getting some answers, but at the same time, he was frustrated. Why was it that Vasquez would respond to Athena, but not to him? Who was the master of the Power of Suggestion, if not him? … Well, he supposed the remainder of the interview would solidify just why Vasquez was so difficult to work with. “What about your family later in life? Did you ever get married?” “I was married four times.” “Four times?!” Athena reached for the folder in front of Simon and flipped through the papers. “But it says here you were only 34 years old when you were arrested.” “No one said they were long marriages.” “What happened? Did you marry them too soon, or were you just fast to settle on divorce?” Vasquez reached for Athena's pen and pulled it from her grasp. Simon reflexively prepared himself to interfere, should there be a need, but violence was not at all Vasquez's goal. She held the pen between her index and middle finger, twirling it up and down even as she regarded Athena with a cold stare. “I was naive. I learned the hard way that men consider themselves stronger than us. The only way to survive is to be stronger than them.” “What do you mean? Did any of your husbands ever hurt you?” “Not with their fists. It was their words, their actions behind my back... My first husband found himself a new girlfriend only three months into our marriage. My second husband squandered our money. The third husband thought I should give up on my career and instead become a mother. My fourth husband was just like the first. What a joke.” “You didn't think to talk these problems through with them before slamming down the divorce papers?” Simon asked. Vasquez ignored him, instead raising the back of the pen to her mouth as if it were a cigarette. “Ah... What my partner is trying to ask is whether you communicated your concerns with them,” Athena said, and Simon felt his nose crinkle at the political wording of it all. “They would not listen,” was the ambiguous response. “Hmm... But you found other men who would listen to you, right? Even if you didn't marry them?” “Are you referring to my friends in the mafia? Or perhaps that spineless director?” “Either, really. If they listened, they listened.” “My mafia friends in particular were very good to me. They recognized my strength. As for Manella, he loved to play the part of my doormat. Masochist that he was, he was inspired by my treatment of him. I didn't even need to lift a finger. A good scolding already served as enough intimidation. One doesn't often meet a man who makes his presence worthwhile simply by being yelled at. His resulting scripts brought in good money. Still, I would not say any one of those men listened. They only did as they were told.” Athena flipped to the next paper in the folder, describing in full detail the crime Vasquez was accused of. Most prominent was a photograph, showing a man impaled on a fence while both Vasquez and another man watched in horror. “What about Jack Hammer? Did he listen to you after you made that accident with Manuel disappear?” “He had to. That does not mean he wanted to. His revenge proves that.” “Right, right... You blackmailed him and-” “Not blackmail. I reminded him of his place,” Vasquez said quite sharply. “Sorry. You kept him in his place and after five years of that, he decided he'd had enough. He came to you in disguise and tried to kill you, so you defended yourself. Or at least... That's what the report says. Could you say in your own words what happened?” “My own words... They are the same. I agree with that statement.” Before Simon could process it was happening, Athena had snatched the pen from his hand. She used it to take a few more notes. When she continued with her questions, her voice was more subdued. “Do you regret how things ended?” “I am in prison. So yes. I regret it.” “But... What about Jack Hammer's life? Do you regret ending it?” “Not at all. Jack Hammer was a murderer who should have been executed for Manuel's death. The way I kept him in line for those five years was too mild a punishment. Perhaps he came to me that day because he knew that as well. Perhaps he wished to die for his crime.” Athena exchanged a glance with Simon, who could give her no proper response. She shook her head, looking frustrated. Perhaps she could see something- or hear something that he could not. Was there a hidden meaning in Vasquez's words? Simon didn't need to ponder the matter for too long, as Athena was the one to bring that truth into the light. “Ms. Vasquez...” she began, her knuckles whitening around the pen. “The way you keep talking about men, you act as if they're all beneath you. You're filled with anger towards them. But whenever you talk about Manuel, your heart betrays grief. You must've taken his death especially harshly. Were you in love with him?” At last, some wrinkles came into being on Vasquez's face, similar to the cracks which formed in the casing of Athena's pen. “... Had Manuel been my fourth husband as opposed to the wretch I did marry, it would have lasted.” And there it was. The grandest portion of the why they'd been searching for. Simon was at a loss for words, though it didn't matter. Just as Athena had led the conversation, she brought it to its proper conclusion. “Thank you for your honesty, Ms. Vasquez. It must have been painful for you to recall such things. I have one more question for you, if you don't mind.” “One more, then.” “If you believed that Mr. Hammer's death was justified and he would have killed you, had you not defended yourself... Why didn't you admit that to the police? Why go to such lengths to frame Mr. Powers?” Vasquez brought the broken pen to her lips again, not realizing that the blue ink was staining her lips. She looked thoughtful, the most minute of frowns tugging at her eyebrows. “Is that not obvious? It is because I didn't want to go to prison.” To Be Continued

#my fanfiction #aa #aa spoilers #simon blackquill #athena cykes #AA mindhunter

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ka-za-ri · 7 years ago

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"How is the most beautiful person in the world doing today?" "I don't know, how are you doing?" Meme with an otp

Hello yes, We are adding Yuuto x Big Sexy Ryuji as a new friend-ship OTP . I shall dub it RYuuto >3. Please pardon how choppy this feels. My muse is still piddling around and finding the right mood for you two.

Toes numb from thecold, heels and knees in pain from standing all day, and the back ofyour skull throbbing with a headache that had started more than threehours ago, you were grateful to be home to say the least. After along day of dealing with mishaps and misfortunes, you wanted nothingmore than to rest and a chance to release the tension built up behindyour shoulders. Heaving a sigh of relief, there was nothing morecomforting than being in a space that you could call your own whereyou could unwind properly.

Though, any chanceyou had of doing what you wanted was quickly whisked away when Ryujiappeared from behind the couch to drag you back outside to the coldyou had so sorely wished to avoid. Protest as you might, he had hismind set on one thing and that was to take you out that night,regardless of how much you dug your heels into the ground andresisted.

There was alreadysnow on the ground from a few days prior, however as you were lead byaround by Ryuji, more snow began to fall softly from the sky.

“Not muchfurther!” He announced cryptically after what seemed like aneternity of wandering aimlessly around. You truly hope he meant thatand it wasn’t an excuse for him getting lost somehow.

Eventually, youreached a clearing lit mostly by the moon while the hum and noise ofthe city was far in the distance. There, in the middle, a crudelycreated snowman with a large frown on its face. He let go of yourhand to proudly prance over to it and present it to you. “Yourboss!” he exclaimed with the widest grin he could muster. “Youcan punch him and no one would blame you!”

At his enthusiasm,you couldn’t help but laugh and oblige, throwing a fist at the coldsnowy structure and letting out whatever rage you had built up. Thecold didn’t even matter anymore to you, now that you had seen whathe had been doing all day. When whatever pent up anger you hadtowards your workplace finally abated, Ryuji pulled you close,running his hands across your cold knuckles to warm them against hisskin. “So, now that you have that all out of your system… How’sthe most beautiful person in the world doing today?” He asked,rocking back and forth slightly to a tune that played on repeat inhis head.

You hoped that theblush creeping up your neck could be excused as feeling a little bitwarmer now that his strong arms were around you. “I don’t know,how are you doing?” You asked in return, doing anything andeverything to draw the attention away from you.

“Much better, nowthat you’re in my arms.” he declared lovingly, kissing the top ofyour head before once again taking your hand to lead you back towhere it was warm and where he could properly keep you in his armsuntil the sun rose on a better day for you.

#replies #my writing #friend-ship shenanigans #Imaichi Ryuji x reader #written on the fly #freeform as fuck #I'm so sorry #Anonymous

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not-poignant · 8 years ago

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pardon this question, you definitely don't have to answer it, but how did you learn or realize you were autistic? I've been researching symptoms and experiences and i know a few people who are on the spectrum, and i've been wondering if i am even though it doesn't present conventionally in some ways? My psychiatrist shut it down v quickly

Hi anon, :)

Okay, I have a long response so I’m putting it under a Read More. The first half is basically my journey to where I’m at now, and the second part is my thoughts on where you’re at, and how self-diagnosis is pretty cool in a world where a lot of the system is against adults getting diagnosed on the spectrum. Feel free to ignore the first part.

It’s a strange journey to how I got here. My folks actually suspected I had autism as a child, but because Asperger’s wasn’t a thing in Western Australia back then (early 80s), I had some borderline traits and then was tossed back without a diagnosis, and that was that.

I had an idea about 8-9 years ago, but never did anything about it, because I was wary of treading into a community I didn’t think I was a part of, and I didn’t want to offend anyone.

Then I had a friend who is also likely Aspie’s, tell me that she thought I very strongly fit the symptom profile of AFAB folks with Asperger’s (people who are women, or assigned female at birth, often have a different autism symptom profile to men, for a lot of reasons, and are often dismissed, because misogyny and a patriarchal medical system). Those symptoms were spot on, but again, I kind of ignored it.

About a year after that, I was having some massive communication troubles, and I ended up with a book on ‘how to communicate with your Aspie partner’ (or something like that, I can find it for you) and it was way more helpful than any book I’ve ever gotten on communicating. Like, way better than my ‘living with a PTSD partner’ better than ‘living with an X chronic condition partner.’ Like, scary accurate. After that, I started self-identifying as neuroatypical. I already knew that it is extremely hard for adults to be diagnosed on the spectrum, especially AFAB folk. It’s one area of self-diagnosis where I was like ‘the material is helping me and my life improve, therefore, I’m going to self-diagnose as having this thing.’*

(*I actually think this is one of the best reasons to self-diagnose, which is if the materials improve your quality of life once you engage with them.)

Some time after that, maybe two years ago now, my current psychologist didn’t do an official screening, but said I met all the core markers for high functioning autism, and had been treating me as a client that was neuroatypical for some time (with some success) even though she hadn’t told me that (she just assumed I knew I was on the spectrum) and we started talking about it.

I’ve never had an official screening, beyond what I had as a 3 to 4 year old. Recently - last year - my Mum found out in a weird weird way. A friend of hers met me twice, her son’s autistic (he’s low functioning) and said to my Mum: ‘I think your daughter has Asperger’s.’ Mum was like ‘haha no, she doesn’t.’ And then apparently this friend showed Mum sites on autism and Mum came to me and was like ‘ahhhhhhh I don’t want to offend you buuuuuut this seems, a lot like - this explains a lot.’ And I was like ‘oh yeah, totally, I’m totally with you, your friend is right.’ And Mum was like: ‘O.O’ and that’s the story of how we get along a bit better now and how she understands me a bit more, lol.

But here’s the thing about getting diagnosed as an adult, particularly if you’re AFAB (I don’t know if you are, but anyway) - it’s really hard, and it’s often really expensive. Currently, in Western Australia, a place known for having very high standards of public health access, it costs $1300 for most to get the official screening done, and most doctors / psychologists don’t offer it, and it’s not covered by almost all forms of insurance, nor is it covered by disability/health welfare. A lot of adults literally don’t have the privilege to afford diagnosis - it’s things like this which make me a big proponent of self-diagnosis, especially in cases where I know the western medical system is really bad at supporting adults with whatever thing the thing is. (ADHD is another, it’s really tough for adults to get diagnosed with this, and get appropriate treatment, especially based on country - it’s possible in Australia, it’s basically impossible in Italy because of cultural biases).

I don’t want to say your psychiatrist is wrong, I don’t know your situation, or your history with them, I’m not a professional of anything remotely medical or psychological. At all. Plus I feel it would be remiss of me if I didn’t say that there is a huge overlap between some high functioning autism symptoms and mental illness symptoms, and a psychiatrist is in the best possible position to know the difference.

I will say it’s worth looking around on Facebook for groups that might look at adult folks with Aspie’s or similar, and ask them what doctors or psychs they saw for diagnosis. We have to do similar here in Western Australia for Fibromyalgia, because even though typically you go to a rheumatologist (at least here) to get diagnosed, a lot of rheumatologists here refuse to even acknowledge/touch Fibromyalgia (it’s notoriously difficult to treat) - so I wasn’t diagnosed for 10+ years, despite actively hunting down a diagnosis for what I had (and I’d even ruled out Fibromyalgia for myself, because I’d been conditioned to accept my chronic, intense pain as ‘normal’ and ‘untreatable’).

Now I have a rheumatologist that diagnosed me, and I have a medication that helps me. That’s a miracle. And I got a referral to this rheumatologist thanks to a Facebook group / friend that were on the ball with this stuff. So I think it would be good to search around online. I actually hate Facebook, but god, it can be really good for putting you in touch with the right doctors, or the patients who see the right doctors/psychs/psychiatrists/counsellors etc. Like I said, I don’t know if your psych is right for you or not, but this is a world where second opinions count, and not all doctors are supportive of every thing. If I’d known I had Fibromyalgia 10-15 years ago, I could have been placed on Amitriptyline early and I may not have ended up on Disability via destroying my life via ignoring illnesses until my body literally couldn’t take it anymore.

My thoughts are…you’re looking for something that helps you, right? That’s why we need labels sometimes. Sometimes the medical profession won’t help us out with that, but that doesn’t stop you from accessing those books, articles, how-tos and so on in the meantime. There are a lot of people, regardless of age, who self-diagnose as neuroatypical in part because the social anxiety of getting diagnosed (a facet of being neuroatypical, among many other things) is just too damn intimidating. You can start looking up ‘how to communicate in relationships if you’re X’ now. You can really start testing all of that stuff out now. If it helps you, if it improves your quality of life (that’s the biggie), that’s like…the most important part imho.

Also, finally if you’re AFAB or a cis female, and haven’t already, google the presentation of Asperger’s in women. You may find the symptom profile fits you better than what you’ll find on the standardised Wiki page. Finally, even if you don’t have Asperger’s, that doesn’t mean you can’t be neuroatypical, or don’t have neuroatypical traits? I’ve had synesthesia all my life, that alone makes me neuroatypical. So it’s worth… remembering that no matter what the final label is that you end up with for yourself, in the meantime, it’s okay to validate those parts of you that don’t seem to fit into the norm of neurological behaviour. It’s okay to seek help and support for it, and it’s okay to give yourself permission to look further.

I wish the path to diagnosis was easier, no matter what the diagnosis ends up being. I have lived what it’s like in a medical system where doctors miss things or ignore things because it’s more convenient for them to do so. It sucks. Trust me, there are a lot of self-diagnosed people on the spectrum, who are right to have self-diagnosed. You’re not alone (I bet there will be other people reading this who can relate to you, anon), and I think it’s awesome that you’re reaching out / putting out feelers about this stuff. *offers hugs*

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