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dankusner · 3 months ago

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DALLAS POLICE DEPARTMENT Ex-officer quietly accepts plea deal

SWAT member pleaded guilty to 2020 protest assault; sentenced to probation

A crowd outside City Hall swelled to several hundred peaceful protesters on May 30, 2020, the second straight day of demonstrations in downtown Dallas decrying police brutality after the murder of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer.

An armored vehicle rolled in, and SWAT officers in riot gear unleashed tear gas.

The crowd dispersed and headed toward Canton and South Akard streets.

Zachary Montez Harvey of Fort Worth huddled with a group on a street corner opposite police.

Officer Broderick Valentine, a member of the SWAT team, stood on a grassy median.

Harvey’s cousin, a Black man, yelled toward police.

Valentine, a 6-foot Black veteran police officer, said Harvey’s cousin “continued taunting” police as “rioters began to form around him,” according to an internal police statement.

He walked toward the man and raised the tip of his 40mm less-lethal launcher.

Bang.

The foam baton round — an inch-thick, puck-like projectile that can reach about 220 mph — narrowly missed the man.

Instead, it struck Harvey and knocked him off his feet. A woman shrieked, and a man mumbled, “Oh s---.” People ran.

“Leave, or you will get arrested,” an officer commanded.

“What was that for?” someone yelled.

Harvey curled up on the hot pavement rocking in a fetal position, wincing and clutching his groin until a group helped him off the ground.

The foam round fell from his shirt as he limped away, video footage showed.

“I was peacefully protesting, I wasn’t assaulting an officer,” Harvey told The Dallas Morning News in a recent phone interview.

“I was on public property, I wasn’t doing anything impeding, and no one ordered me to get away.

“I was within my rights and for the officer to do that made me think that they would do more things that were corrupt.”

Despite increased scrutiny and calls for transparency of police brutality allegations from the 2020 protests, Valentine’s force against Harvey was never made public.

Valentine, 55, was investigated by Dallas police, issued a written reprimand and retired months later in good standing.

The case against Valentine was not referred to the internal unit that reviews possible crimes by city employees.

Three years later, Valentine was indicted for deadly conduct.

There was no news conference, no press release, announcing the indictment — in stark contrast to the cases of three other North Texas officers widely regarded as the only ones facing charges for their actions during the demonstrations.

To activists and civil rights attorneys, the handling of Valentine’s case punctuates concerns about whether the Dallas Police Department consistently holds its officers accountable and the sincerity of officials’ commitment to transparency.

Valentine pleaded guilty earlier this year to a misdemeanor assault charge and was sentenced to deferred adjudication probation, according to court records.

He will not have a conviction if he successfully completes probation.

“The slap-on-the-wrist punishment fits with everything I’ve ever seen … unaccountable use of excessive force — in general — a lack of accountability,” said John Fullinwider, a longtime Dallas activist and co-founder of Mothers Against Police Brutality.

He added:

“This is an example of a single officer’s repression not only unlawfully injuring a person participating in a protest, but also effectively ending his first amendment right to protest at all.”

A spokesperson for the Dallas County district attorney’s office provided basic information about the disposition of Valentine’s criminal case, but repeatedly declined to answer detailed questions because Valentine is still on probation.

District Attorney John Creuzot declined to talk about the case.

A Dallas police spokesperson said the incident was not referred to the department’s public integrity unit because Harvey didn’t file a complaint.

The entire interaction — less than a minute — was captured on multiple officers’ body-worn cameras and broadcast by WFAA-TV (Channel 8), according to DPD’s internal affairs division investigative report.

When reached by phone in June, Valentine was open to answering questions via email.

He said there “was no protester wounded,” that Harvey didn’t seek medical attention, and he “got up and walked off” after the shooting.

After The News emailed a list of questions to him and his attorney, Valentine wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to provide details until he finished his probation.

“There is a lot I want to say but can’t,” Valentine said.

Harvey suffered skin irritation for days afterward from tear gas, but was not severely injured.

He feels vindicated by Valentine’s prosecution but grapples with whether it led to any reform.

May 30, 2020, he said, marked his first — and last — time participating in protests.

“I just always keep my distance from officers,” Harvey said. “You never know when it’s going to be another one of those incidents.” Internal investigation

The video snippet of Harvey being struck was posted on social media.

Bruce Faulkner reported it via email to Dallas police on June 1, 2020, after the department asked for tips from the public.

In the email, Faulkner said the shot didn’t appear “provoked in any way.”

In a recent phone interview with The News , Faulkner said a close friend was bloodied by San Antonio police who mistook him for a suspect they were pursuing.

That left Faulkner sensitive to acts of police brutality and ultimately led him to report the video that appeared on his feed.

“If somebody’s intimidating you to not express your First Amendment rights, then that’s an issue, it doesn’t matter whether it’s the police, the military, whatever,” Faulkner, who works in tech, said. “You shouldn’t ever be scared to express your opinion.”

In late August 2020, an internal affairs sergeant followed up with Faulkner about his complaint, according to email records.

Other officers who were at the scene were interviewed, and Valentine gave a statement to internal investigators.

According to their report, Valentine said he was never formally trained on how to use a “less lethal launcher in a riot situation.”

He believed force against the agitated protester was justified, may have prevented “further escalation,” and he also thought SWAT officers had approval to use such force.

According to Valentine’s Texas Commission on Law Enforcement personnel file — the state entity that certifies police officers — he completed an eight-hour “Less Lethal Impact Weapons” training in August 2020.

Lt. Mark Vernon, who was overseeing SWAT, said protesters were “engaged in riotous behavior” and patrol was outnumbered.

The News reported City Hall was vandalized and protesters toppled trash bins, blocked roadways and pelted police squad cars with water bottles.

Vernon authorized officers to use their less-lethal equipment to disperse and arrest noncompliant protesters, he told internal investigators.

He said some tactics are not explicitly authorized in department policy, but “may be directed or employed based on the dynamics of a situation to bring about a safer resolution.”

After reviewing the video of Harvey being struck, Vernon “could not determine if the force was in keeping with his commands or Departmental policy,” according to the report.

Robert Rogers, Valentine’s attorney, told The News less-lethal launchers were “the only way” officers could protect people and avoid property damage.

Several businesses downtown were vandalized during the demonstrations.

Reprimand, praise

Twenty-four people were charged with misdemeanor riot participation during the May 30, 2020, weekend, The News reported at the time.

An additional 43 were arrested for obstructing a highway or walking in a roadway.

Police arrested more than 100 people for violating a curfew the city had imposed for downtown.

Dallas police dropped most cases after an investigation by The News examined police tactics and the jailing of three women on such charges.

The DA’s office has said it accepted 20 cases against protesters for alleged misdemeanor and felony crimes.

Prosecutors rejected 86 cases.

The internal investigation found the protester whom Valentine targeted, Harvey’s cousin, derided officers but made no threats or aggressive gestures.

The investigation also concluded officers never gave commands or warnings to the crowd before Valentine fired and that he violated the department’s policy on when to use what type of force.

Six months after the protests, in December 2020, Valentine was issued a written reprimand, according to police records.

He acknowledged and signed the disciplinary letter on Jan. 12, 2021.

Two of Valentine’s supervisors suggested he receive a “supervisor’s report,” a step below a written reprimand and not “formal discipline” in the department’s continuum of punishment.

Sgt. Willie Ford in the Tactical Support Division called Valentine an “outstanding officer,” adding, “I am proud to be his supervisor.”

Vernon said he is a “mature proficient SWAT Officer who could be relied upon to conduct himself in an appropriate manner in very stressful situations.”

Both commended Valentine for a 20-year career without any “sustained complaints” or history of disciplinary action.

According to his investigative file, accusations of inappropriate or unnecessary use of force were lodged against Valentine in 2002, 2004 and 2005.

Those allegations were ruled “inconclusive.”

On June 1, 2021, Valentine retired from DPD in good standing, his personnel file shows.

Rogers said Valentine’s retirement was not related to the use-of-force case. He was 51 at the time.

Years later — he can’t recall the date — Harvey awoke to two investigators at his door. They questioned him and recorded his statement about what happened outside City Hall that May evening.

Harvey learned prosecutors would be taking the case to a Dallas County grand jury, whose deliberations are secret by law.

Hazy picture

The Dallas Police Department’s public integrity unit investigates city employees for potential criminal misconduct.

In other use-of-force cases from the protests, the unit opened a probe into the accused officers and referred the case files to the district attorney’s office, according to internal records obtained by The News .

The department’s records unit said no public integrity unit documents exist from 2019 onward connected to Valentine.

He was only investigated by the department’s internal affairs unit, which handles administrative reviews, records show.

It’s not clear why prosecutors pursued a criminal charge against Valentine after police decided not to investigate his use of force as a crime.

The Dallas County district attorney’s office declined to answer detailed questions from The News .

Rogers, Valentine’s attorney, said the Dallas Police Department “didn’t believe [Valentine] committed a criminal offense.”

Fullinwider, the activist, said the disconnect between police and the justice system’s evaluation of whether Valentine’s action amounted to a crime shows “the internal affairs department of Dallas is very ineffective at accountability.”

Internal affairs reviews accusations and can refer them to the public integrity unit if it suspects criminal wrongdoing or conduct that “could be considered abuse of office or authority,” according to the department’s policies.

Former Dallas police deputy chief and Dallas ISD police chief Craig Miller told The News internal affairs was likely told to inform the public integrity unit only if they found a criminal violation. Miller is not associated with the case.

Dallas police spokesperson Kristin Lowman referred questions about the criminal investigation to the district attorney’s office.

She did not answer questions about why the department did not publicly disclose the internal investigation into Valentine.

Lowman said internal affairs did not refer the case to the public integrity unit because “they did not have a crime victim who filed a complaint.”

Instead, Faulkner, a “third-party,” reported the video to DPD.

Harvey told The News he never complained to police, fearing retaliation and harassment.

Jesuorobo Enobakhare Jr., who previously served as chairman of Dallas’ Community Police Oversight Board, said police “respond to third-party calls all the time.”

Enobakhare reviewed dozens of civilian complaints against police while chairing the board from late 2019 to 2023.

He pointed to the killing of Atatiana Jefferson, who was fatally shot by Fort Worth officer Aaron Dean in 2019.

A concerned neighbor called 911 because the home’s doors were open and the lights were on inside.

Dean shot Jefferson through her bedroom window from the backyard.

He was found guilty of manslaughter in 2022 and sentenced to nearly 12 years in prison.

“Atatiana Jefferson lost her life over a third-party call to the police,” Enobakhare said. “But a third-party complaint cannot be investigated? That needs to change. We shouldn’t be letting excuses prevent us from doing the right thing in investigating a potential crime that could’ve taken place.”

The administrative investigation into Valentine was conducted when former Chief U. Reneé Hall led the department.

Avery Moore, an assistant chief during her administration who is now the police chief in Tacoma, Wash., signed off on Valentine’s discipline, the records show.

Moore did not respond to multiple requests for comment over email and by phone.

Other high-ranking commanders still with the department also signed off on the discipline, including Executive Assistant Chief Michael Igo and Assistant Chief Reuben Ramirez.

The News reached out to Igo and Ramirez via text message and both referred inquiries to a police spokesperson.

Current police Chief Eddie García, who came to Dallas in February 2021 and is the only police commander usually authorized to speak to reporters without approval, said he can’t speak to incidents that happened before his tenure.

He said “the accountability and discipline imposed since 2021 speaks volumes about how this department holds itself accountable,” noting he has fired at least 37 officers and suspended 34 others.

Fullinwider applauded García for disciplinary actions against officers but called the department’s holistic approach to transparency “hollow.”

He said the reforms promised by police departments nationwide after Floyd’s murder were “superficial.”

“Police chiefs do come and go,” Fullinwider said, “the culture and history of the department remains.”

Past police charges

In May 2022, three officers were indicted on felony charges for injuring protesters.

One person was hit with less-lethal ammunition in the arm, groin and thigh, two were struck in the face — smashing a cheekbone and causing one man to lose his eye — another person was shot in the groin and a different man in the posterior.

The criminal allegations against the officers angered police officials and their attorneys.

(Their criminal cases are headed for trial later this year, according to court records.)

Dallas police Sr. Cpl. Ryan Mabry was charged with eight felonies — six counts of aggravated assault by a public servant and two counts of deadly conduct — and three misdemeanor counts of official oppression.

Dallas police Sr. Cpl. Melvin Williams was charged with six felonies — four counts of aggravated assault by a public servant and two counts of deadly conduct — and three misdemeanor counts of official oppression.

Garland police Officer Joe Privitt was charged with one felony count of aggravated assault by a public servant.

Only one of those officers has been fired.

A year after the protests, Williams was captured on video punching a man during a brawl in Deep Ellum, leading to an additional official oppression charge and another internal use-of-force investigation that spurred his termination.

Until now, they were regarded as the only officers known to have faced criminal charges from the Dallas protests.

The grand jury handed up an indictment for deadly conduct against Valentine in May 2023, court records show.

The indictment says Valentine “knowingly [discharged] a firearm, a deadly weapon, at and in the direction of” Harvey.

It’s unknown why it took years to reach the grand jury.

Valentine was indicted two weeks before the three-year statute of limitations expired.

Deadly conduct is a third-degree felony and carries a punishment between two and 10 years in prison and a fine up to $10,000.

The felony case progressed for nearly eight months, according to court records.

Rogers, Valentine’s attorney, said the filings were public records and refuted assertions it was kept under wraps.

He called the proceedings “selective prosecution.”

“Valentine did not get special treatment,” he said. “He got the opposite.”

In early January, Valentine struck a plea deal with prosecutors.

He pleaded guilty to a lesser offense — a Class A misdemeanor charge of assault causing bodily injury — and was sentenced to 12 months deferred adjudication probation.

Valentine waived the statute of limitations for the misdemeanor charge, which had lapsed, in the plea deal.

Valentine could have faced up to one year in jail and a $4,000 fine.

As part of the plea deal, Valentine was required to give up his licenses with the Texas Commission on Law Enforcement, court records show.

When told of the outcome of the case and asked whether it was just, Faulkner, who reported Valentine to DPD, said he believes if the shooter hadn’t been a police officer, he would have been sentenced to jail time.

Harvey said in a recent phone interview there were seemingly “no consequences” for Valentine:

“You retire before you need to, and then … you leave town, you get out of Dodge.”

‘Every case is different’

David Henderson, a civil rights attorney not associated with Harvey but who represents others injured in the 2020 protests, said there’s “virtually no accountability” in police misconduct cases.

He said a civilian who intentionally shot and wounded someone would have faced an aggravated assault with a deadly weapon charge, a second-degree felony that carries a punishment range of between two and 20 years in prison.

“From the outset, you see the officers receiving a different brand of justice than what civilians are, which is a fundamental problem,” he said.

“They should be subject to the same criminal justice that the rest of the public is.”

Henderson represents Jantzen Verastique, who was shot in the chest with pepper balls on May 30, 2020.

Dallas police Sgt. Roger Rudloff fired three rounds into her breast from a few feet away, according to an investigation by The News .

He was cleared of wrongdoing by the department and then by a grand jury. He retired in February 2023.

The throughline in the Rudloff and Valentine investigations is officers “always get the bare minimum treatment” for criminal charges under the law, according to Henderson.

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Mike Snipes, a retired prosecutor and senior visiting judge with more than 30 years of experience in the courtroom, doesn’t believe Valentine received favorable treatment from the DA’s office.

The Dallas County DA’s office has pursued serious charges against police officers in the past for killings:

ex-Dallas police officer Amber Guyger is serving a 10-year sentence for the 2018 murder of Botham Jean inside his apartment.

Roy Oliver, a former Balch Springs officer, was sentenced to 15 years in prison for the 2017 murder of 15-year-old Jordan Edwards.

Former Farmers Branch officer Ken Johnson was given a 10-year sentence for the off-duty shooting of 16-year-old Jose Cruz. Farmers

Branch officer Michael Dunn was charged with murder in connection with the fatal shooting of Juan “Johnny” Moreno Jr. but found not guilty in a trial before a judge.

Guyger, Oliver and Johnson were indicted under Faith Johnson, Creuzot’s predecessor and a Gov. Greg Abbott-appointee Republican.

“In my experience, law enforcement agencies here in Dallas County do not get more preferential treatment than ordinary regular citizens,” said Snipes, who was the lead prosecutor in Oliver’s criminal trial and presided over Dunn’s bench trial.

The DA’s office likely reviewed witness statements, body-camera footage and weighed the strength of the evidence before extending a plea bargain to Valentine, Snipes posited: “You can’t make a general rule for how things are going to be applied. … Every case is different.

You have to use your judgment as to what you think is a provable offense in the case.”

Henderson said harm caused by police goes beyond physical injuries: People may be afraid of police interactions and could be traumatized by being assaulted and unable to defend themselves.

He said officers’ show of force appears to be intended to scare “everyday people from going back out and protesting again.”

The Dallas County justice system should support people exercising their freedom of speech and protest, he said.

The lack of publicity around Valentine’s case, he said, conveys the opposite.

“The system has done an effective job at maintaining the status quo,” Henderson said.

Enobakhare, the former oversight chair, said police erred during a pivotal, nationwide reckoning:

“This was a moment that the Dallas Police Department missed,” he said. “This was a moment of transparency, of being open to the community about a situation that was caught on camera, but because of the fact that the victim didn’t come forward, as far as they’re concerned, no crime happened.

“That’s glaring.”

#Youtube

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greensparty · 8 months ago

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Concert Review: Sleater-Kinney

Sun. March 17, 2024 @ The Paradise (Boston, MA)

Paradise marquee

The last time I saw Sleater-Kinney live was in Summer 2002 was when they headlined the Siren Music Festival in Coney Island in 2002 and they blew me away. The indie rockers burst out of the mid-90s riot grrrl movement in Olympia, WA and their brand of feminism amassed quite a following on college radio. They have been on my radar since 1997’s Dig Me Out (got my copy on vinyl). After the band took an indefinite hiatus in 2006, they reunited in 2014. It’s ironic that the masses now know Carrie Brownstein for Portlandia (as well as scene-stealing performances in Carol, Transparent and best of all as Larry's assistant on Curb Your Enthusiasm) and didn’t even know her as the singer/guitarist for Sleater-Kinney. Singer/guitarist Corin Tucker has also had multiple side projects outside of S-K including Eddie Vedder's soundtrack to Into the Wild (S-K opened for Pearl Jam in the 00s) and she's also a part of the supergroup Filthy Friends. But things changed for the band after drummer Janet Weiss left in 2019 after recording the album The Center Won't Hold. I dug that album and I even named “The Future is Here” my #1 Song of 2019. Their first post-Janet Weiss album was Path of Wellness, which I named my #6 Album of 2021. There are purists who feel it’s not the same band without Weiss. I very much disagree as Brownstein and Tucker are still musical forces to be reckoned with. After the release in January of the Little Rope, the band is currently on tour and stopped in Boston on St. Patrick's Day.

Sleater-Kinney onstage at the Paradise

I am by no means an expert on S-K, i.e. someone who has traveled to the Pacific Northwest to see the band. But I do own a great deal of their albums and have immense respect for them. I say this because there were a number of songs I didn't know as well as others, but that's cool - you learn from the live experience. The show was heavy on the new album Little Rope. They did 9 of the 10 album tracks in their set, highlights being "Say It Like You Mean It" and "Untidy Creatures". They only did two songs off of Dig Me Out, notably the title track for the final encore. I would've loved to have heard more off that album (my personal favorite), but beggars can't be choosers. It was great to hear some songs off of No Cities to Love and The Center Won't Hold played along with songs from The Hot Rock and The Woods. I was kind of surprised they didn't do any songs off of Path of Wellness, especially since that was their last album.

Brownstein and Tucker front stage!

In my album review of Little Rope I noted that "with Path of Wellness, as much as I liked the album - it is a band trying to figure out how to go from being a three-headed monster to a two-headed monster. But with this one, Brownstein and Tucker are clearly past that transition and diving back into the indie rock sound they perfected over the course of the last 30 years." That is also true of their live tours. Both Brownstein and Tucker are clearly the stars putting their supreme voices on full display, but credit needs to be given to their backing band: drummer Angie Boylan (big shoes to fill, but she rocked!), keyboardist Toko Yasuda, and multi-instrumentalist Teeny Lieberson. This lineup was outstanding! Seeing the band in The Paradise was special too (this was the most packed I've ever seen The Paradise and that's saying something) and on St. Patrick's Day no less. Now let's hope I don't end up waiting another 22 years to see them again!

For info on Sleater-Kinney

#sleater kinney #concert review #carrie brownstein #corin tucker #music nerd

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mediamonarchy · 9 months ago

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https://mediamonarchy.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/20240219_MorningMonarchy.mp3Download MP3 Balls to write the truth, President’s Day sneaker pimps and Navalny whacked + this day in history w/John Kerry’s Hollywood ISIS propaganda and our song of the day by SUIT on your #MorningMonarchy for February 19, 2024. Notes/Links: Image: “I want peer-reviewed articles and at least ten sources.”“Why? You got jabbed in a parking lot by a stranger with a drug you knew nothing about just to get a free donut.”https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/597898944584089623/1208906633455861843/peer_reviewed_parking_lot.jpg?ex=65e4fd09&is=65d28809&hm=0002dc6315eb0e195145e8a1f0ddf8c62543c849f0b312975a8f6a97b41c8b11& Image: The Leftist Good Samaritan – “Stay here. I’m going to go write a law that forces you to buy insurance.”https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/597898944584089623/1208906201853599755/leftist_samaritan.jpg?ex=65e4fca2&is=65d287a2&hm=041670b2cef08f9cd722e0f79bcd7a8566f6decf98199a35be4909f1ffe6727a& Meow Wolf Calls Off Matisyahu Concerthttps://www.sfreporter.com/news/2024/02/15/meow-wolf-calls-off-matisyahu-concert/ Travis Kelce’s Debut as a Film Producer Is Also the First Movie Financed Using President Biden’s Green Energy Tax Creditshttps://variety.com/2024/film/news/travis-kelce-my-dead-friend-zoe-financed-energy-tax-credits-1235908057/ Security Cameras Suddenly Pan Away as Bomb Squad Responds to Jan. 6 Pipe Bomb; Video obtained by The Epoch Times sheds new light on key details relating to the DNC pipe bomb on Jan. 6, 2021.https://www.theepochtimes.com/article/security-cameras-suddenly-pan-away-as-bomb-squad-responds-to-jan-6-pipe-bomb-5586718 Houston college student sentenced for Jan. 6 capitol riot, says FBI agent allegedly stole from himhttps://abc13.com/alexander-fan-sentenced-houston-man-to-12-months-probation-for-trespassing-jan-6-2021-capitol-riot/14435276/ Rep. Eli Crane (R-AZ) trashes reporters for claiming President Trump was part an Insurrection on Jan. 6thhttps://freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/4216767/posts Video: “You Don’t Have The B—s To Write The Truth”: Eli Crane Straight-Up Insults Reporters In Angry Tear (Audio)https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3u13AATHdg Eli Cranehttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eli_Crane Video: Joe Biden on Elton John – “It’s his fault we spent so much money fighting HIV” (Audio)https://twitter.com/BGatesIsaPyscho/status/1757667549729214802 RFK Jr. Scores Big Win In Lawsuit Accusing Biden Admin Of Censoring COVID Vaccine Infohttps://www.zerohedge.com/markets/federal-judge-hands-rfk-jr-win-lawsuit-accusing-biden-admin-censoring-covid-19-vaccine-info San Francisco Appoints First Noncitizen to Election Commissionhttps://www.theepochtimes.com/us/san-francisco-appoints-first-noncitizen-to-election-commission-5589635 Texas To Build Military “Base Camp” On Mexico Border To House 1,800 Soldiershttps://www.zerohedge.com/political/texas-build-military-base-camp-near-mexico-border-house-1800-soldiers Hugh Aynesworth: CIA Media Asset, FBI Informer, Friend of Lyndon Johnson White House and Media’s Darling JFK Assassination “Lone Nutter” Journalist Dies at 92https://covertactionmagazine.com/2024/02/13/hugh-aynesworth-cia-media-asset-fbi-informer-friend-of-lyndon-johnson-white-house-and-medias-darling-jfk-assassination-lone-nutter-journalist-dies-at-92/ IRS Warns Tax Refunds Will Be Much Lower This Year; Inflation-hit Americans who filed their taxes early have received, on average, smaller tax refunds this year.https://www.theepochtimes.com/us/irs-warns-tax-refunds-will-be-much-lower-this-year-5588942 SiriusXM Cuts 160 Jobs Amid Push to Become More “Efficient, Agile”https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/business/business-news/siriusxm-layoffs-1235822610/ Nike’s stock drops as plan to cut almost 1,700 jobs highlights need for new strategyhttps://www.marketwatch.com/story/nike-to-lay-off-more-than-1-600-employees-to-cut-costs-report-8e3bd3cb Trump Launches Line of Sneakers During ‘Sneaker Con’ in Philadelphia; Shoes Sell-Out In One Afternoonhttps://w...

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#alternative news #geopolitiks #media monarchy #Morning Monarchy #mp3 #podcast #Songs Of The Day #SUIT #This Day In History

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darkcloud-kcalifornia · 7 years ago

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Well I wanna get another Nanoha episode down before this day off is over with, so let’s get started with StrikerS episode 10, “Riot Force 6’s Day Off (Part 1)”.

* And seriously, just on the title alone, it’s nice to see that even when you officially join a military organization rather than doing freelance work, any attempts by a super to take a break are doomed to failure. The “(Part 1)” part of the title alone gives heavy suggestion that crap is about to go down. That or extended fluff/fanservice, but come on, we all know which it is.

* Tea has apparently come to the conclusion after her complete failure at personal training that one of the lessons she should take away is that mornings are evil. Which they are.

* Nothing like a little morning molestation to help get ya out of bed! Seriously, Subaru, what the heck, girl?!

* And Subaru likes it rough I’m guessing. I bet Tea would have a far different reaction if she knew her punishments weren’t helping matters.

* While Fried deciding to perch on Erio’s arm is cute and shows the amount of trust they’re all building… I would not want a dragon, even a smol one, grabbing onto my arm with it’s talons without some kind of brace or armor there. I mean, he didn’t even have a sleeve. Just bare skin. OW. I’m hoping he had some kind of a shield up to toughen his skin.

* After the morning workout/beating season they call mock battles Nanoha tells the kids they passed their level two training, and can now get some of the limiters on their Devices turned off by Shari. Hooray!

* And as an added reward, they get the rest of the day off! Which I’m sure is Nanoha’s way of giving them some more real battle experience. She’s been a hero long enough to know what days off mean.

* While the adults (relatively speaking, hard to know how to classify Vita) are having breakfast the news is playing, with stuff about fights over budgets and taxes (ugh, please don’t remind me of the tax crap we’re having to put up with right now…), and one guy they don’t particularly care for, Lt. General Regius Gais, clamoring for a bigger piece of the pie for the military/police.

* And apparently the TSAB’s Chief of Staff is an old woman named Midget Crowbel. Midget is not something to name your child.

* Seated beside her are two other elderly VIPs, the Honorary Marshal of the Armed Forces Largo Kiel (who sports a most impressive beard) and the Judicial Advisor Leone Phils. Together they’re known as “The Three Legendary Admirals”.

* I’d like to comment on the rest of Gais’ BS speech, but the subtitlers apparently decided that part wasn’t really important. To be fair, most of it was background noise to the conversation going on in the mess hall.

* Is Vice letting Tea borrow his motorcycle? I may not know how she is at riding, but given the paint job on that thing I’m surprised by that decision.

* Dawwww, lokkit Fate being all motherly with Erio, making sure his clothes are nice and neat and that he has everything for his day out with Caro. Fate makes such a good mommy.

* Caro arrives and gets a bit of the treatment too, with Fate making sure her clothes are the right size. Wait… is Fate shipping her foster kids? I mean, I know they aren’t related and haven’t grown up together either (at least until Riot Force 6 formed), but that still strikes me as a little weird.

* I don’t think Erio and Caro have to worry about the normal dangers of a city at night given, you know, military trained wizards. With a dragon even.

* So, Nanoha and Fate… any plans now that the kids are out for the day? Wink wink, nudge nudge. Well, OK, they don’t really have the day off, even if Vita and Signum are taking care of some of the negotiations for them.

* Shari and Rein are modifying everybody’s Devices, including Nanoha and Fate’s. Oh, and Rein herself too. Which apparently necessitates her stripping. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised there was loli panties in this series. I’m just wondering where they go to get them in pixie size. I mean, I know magic can form barriers into something that looks like clothing, but given how she’s actually disrobing in this scene I’m thinking they’re real cloth. Do they shop for doll clothing? I imagine that might not actually be comfortable given that they aren’t actually meant to be worn by something with nerves and self-movement. Or do they have somebody who specializes in tailoring work and willing to do it that tiny?

* Tea is riding too close to that center line for my comfort. I swear she momentarily passes it a time or two. Slow down on those turns young lady, especially when they’re blind like that!

* Holy crap Shari actually plotted out a plan and schedule for Erio and Caro’s day out together. The kids are a little unsure about all of this, and while I don’t think they were thinking of it as such it seems pretty obvious that the rest of Riot Force 6 decided these two were going out on a date.

* So in the way of random background info, Caro has a second dragon she can call on named Voltaire, but he’s all black and huge and an ancient guardian thingy and thus not likely to be seen outside of a battle sequence. Fried on the other hand is one she’s raised from an egg. …Why am I wanting to see him and Spike interact now? Fried can’t even talk.

* You know, I’ve honestly never seen the appeal of the large stacks of ice cream like Subaru has. I mean, I get wanting great quantities, but they’re also usually presented as multi-colored as well, which implies multiple flavors. And while some flavors work well together, like Tea’s vanilla and chocolate, I find it hard to believe that all of the varieties Subaru has would.

* Of course Subaru can nom an entire scoop in a single bite, so the stuff might not have the opportunity to melt and mingle, even with that much.

* Out in a park Erio and Caro exchange notes on how Fate raised them, and come to the conclusion that yes, she’s pretty good at the whole mom thing. Also…

* …oh my gosh Arf’s puppy mode has it’s own accompanying human form.

* Holy crap, Shari actually put, “watch sunset on the beach” into their schedule. No doubt about it now, Riot Force 6 is full of shippers.

* Wait, is that chatter coming off of the police intercom in English? *listens again* Yeah, that’s English. I can’t make out most of it, but there was something in there about a 74 year old male. Really it sounds like they grabbed a soundbite from something that was originally English sourced rather than try to record it themselves. Oh well, I suppose this is more evidence that the people on Midchilda really are speaking English, and that all the character’s speaking Japanese is for the original audience’s benefit.

* Anyway, at the site where the police scanner was used as background noise Ginga has showed up to help with an investigation on a truck that suddenly overturned. The driver is freaked out and was attacked by something, and an explosion had come from the back of his truck. Inspecting the wreckage shows both a destroyed Gadget as well as the shattered remains of something Ginga identifies as a “life pod”, suggesting somebody was using this guy’s truck to smuggle living cargo. That isn’t there anymore. Even the music is going DUN DUN here. No, really. Not making that up.

* Elsewhere Jail receives a report that the 6 Gadgets he had pursuing a possible Relic have all been destroyed, and not by the TSAB.

* A mostly unseen girl named Nove wants to get in on this, but both the Doctor and his assistant shoot her down. Her equipment isn’t ready yet. The assistant offers to send in the best of her sisters for this one. The Doctor also calls up Lutecia to see if she’s willing to lend a hand.

* Down in the sewers a little girl in rags is dragging along a couple of boxes that have been chained to her. She stumbles in her slow shuffling and one of them comes loose and falls into the water, but she doesn’t seem to either notice or care.

* Erio hears something and races into a nearby alley, where he and Caro see the girl crawl out from a manhole. Caro calls the rest of the team while Erio holds the apparently comatose girl, and informs them that the case chained to the girl looks like it belongs to a Relic. Vacation just ended, kids. Eior and Caro are ordered to stay put and provide both protection and first aid, everybody else is to either scramble to the location or man their stations.

But the actual fallout for this is going to have to wait until Part 2. We got some decent character interaction in this one, and some not so decent on Subaru’s part. But this is so obviously set-up that it’s in the title, so detailed analysis beyond my nitpicking the minor points for fun is going to have to wait until next time.

#tv talk #episode reactions #magical girl lyrical nanoha #nanoha strikers #nanoha s3e10 #riot force 6's day off

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dienamights · 4 years ago

Text

Daddy Daycare | K.Bakugou | Headcanons

Where Pro hero Dynamight is stuck at home babysitting little fucking gremlins instead of spending his day off with you.

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

» Word count: 0.9K

» Genre: Crack, Fluff embedded in between.

» Warning(s): Suggestive themes and mentions of sex - Minors DNI & Leave - Swearing.

» Author’s notes: I COULDN’T GET IT OUTTA MY HEAD, I literally thought about it last Tuesday and just went off on a tangent with Aali -hey baby I didn't wanna bother you with the tags aahahahah love you - to get it out of my head so I can focus on my exams about how he’d babysit babies and I thought that was it but now its almost 6 AM AND I NEEDED TO WRITE THAT SHIT. Please enjoy ♡. Also I did proof read it but I honestly don’t trust my editing abilities at this time. And my drowsy ass keeps laughing at the header photo.

» Masterlist | Requests

• Its Katsuki’s day off, knowing him, he for sure would not want to take a break from work, always saying "Evil never takes a day off, so why should we?” type bullshit to excuse his workaholic nature. So, despite his day off, he’d always find a way to do some paperwork, read case files about villains, or even train to ‘not waste the day sitting on my ass’. Alas, this time was different, he actually wanted to stay at home, in bed, with you in his arms, maybe filled by him once or twice.

• And you think that’s sweet, the sweetest thing ever, but you were actually hoping for the usual response the ash blond gave whenever he had a day off, to not be around, because you wanted to have a girls’ night.

• Already the ADULT pro hero is pouting like a little boy – arms crossed and all – talking about how you’re betraying him with some shitfaced extras for ‘friends’. Well, since he’s mad might as well dump everything on him all at once right? Wrong

• “Suki, could you also maybe babysit their kids?” “Fuck no.”

• Well, what were you expecting really?

• “Please?” You say following him around the house as he stomps and pouts away from you. “I’ll do anything you want just please do this one thing for me?” “Anything?” Oh sure, now you got his attention “Yes anything, name it right now.” Silence “You ride me next time we fuck” “Katsu-“ “Next time we make love, don’t get your panties in a twist shitty woman.” “That’s not what I- you know what? Fine, deal.”

• Technically, you didn’t specify how many there were, so Katsuki finds himself surrounded by snot-filled shitheads gawking up at him, with one baby perched up on his hip, as they gushed about spending their day/night with pro hero Dynamight of all people. And its all fun and games until that one baby takes a massive shit in their diaper.

• Cue the tears, wails, crying and for fucks sake the SMELL, the fuckin’ smell. Katsuki couldn’t deal with this shit no pun intended, so back up it is.

• Aka shitty hair.

• “Wha- the fuck is dunce face here for?” “He wants to help.” “The fuck would he know, he’s practically a man child himself and besi-”

• Lightbulb

• On one side, Bakugou and Kirishima are trying to outdo each other at pushups with the babies sitting on their backs as extra weights, the kids giggling and flailing while on the other side Kaminari is having a tea party with the rest that are waiting their turn to be used as pseudo-weights.

• Eventually, Bakugou and Kirishima ended up force feeding Kaminari cough syrup so he’d just shut the fuck up and sleep. “Wants to help my ass, fuckin’ dick startin’ a riot with these kids to get dessert before dinner.” “Yeah, should’ve seen that one coming.”

• Any of the kids misbehaving after the riot’s leader was taken down for a nap? They're being held upside down by their foot by Katsuki until they get light headed and apologize.

• This man will milk their adoration for him and he will not reply until he’s addressed as king explosion murder. Period.

• "Mister Dynamight, can I have a snack?" "What was that brat, couldn’t hear ya." "King... explosion mmm-murder, can I have a snack?" *glares* "please?" "That’s what’m fuckin’ talkin’ about brat, c’mon let’s get you some fruits." As if he’d sensor himself around them.

• Feeds off of them praising his cooking.

• “Mister Dyna-“ *death glare* “Mister king lord explosion murder.” Poor kid stammers in fear. *nods to keep going* “ Your cooking is better than my mamma’s!” “You bet your ass it fuc-“ “LANGUAGE” “ooh right, you bet your butt it fucking is” and Kirishima is on the other side covering his face and wishing this mess would just be over so he can go home.

• When its bedtime, they wouldn’t want to listen to bedtime stories, oh no, king explosion murder better get his ass ready because they want him to tell them his greatest battle to date. And he delivers, sound effects and small explosions as he pretends to pummel an imaginary villain to the ground, earning squeals and giggles from the kids piled up on the futons set up for them in the living room.

• One of the kids would try to climb into his lap and he’d be like???? But kinda get over it after a while as the kids dozed off to sleep, whereas another one promises to be a hero like him, and he’d pat their head and tuck them in, telling them that they can do whatever they want as long as they work on it and believe in themselves.

• Yes, the kids will go back to their parents wanting Dynamight merch for DAYS.

• And yes, you’ll be pounded until tomorrow with a promise to fill you up with “a little brat of our own so they can shit on these extra babies”.

Bonus

• You see one of your friends a week later and they’re hella salty cause their kid can’t stop calling people shitty extras.

• You didn’t know about this but before the kids left, he gave each of them a limited-edition figurine of himself that he signed so when they flexed about spending the day with him to their friends, they’d believe them.

• He would rather die than tell you this, but since he babysat these brats, Katsuki couldn’t wait to have his own with you to care for and love unconditionally.

Borrowers (Taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

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todaysdocument · 3 years ago

Photo

Front page of the Tulsa Tribune during the Tulsa Race Massacre, 6/1/1921.

Series: Central Decimal Files, 1881 - 1982

Collection: Records of the American National Red Cross, 1881 - 2008

Transcription:

THE PEOPLE'S PAPER

The Tulsa Tribune

THE WEATHER SECOND

OKLAHOMA - Tonight and Thurs- EXTRA

day part cloudy.

Tulso temperatures: Maximum

today at noon, 85, yesterday, 91;

minimum, 68, yesterday, 61

FULL LEASED WIRE REPORTS OF ASSOCIATED AND UNITED PRESS; UNRIVALED STATE AND FEATURE SERVICE

VOL. XVII - NUMBER 225. TULSA, OKLAHOMA, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 1, 1921. State Edition * * FOURTEEN PAGES - PRICE [TORN] CENTS

COUNTY PUT UNDER MARTIAL LAW

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

7 whites, 68 Negroes Dead --- Fire Rages

PROCLAMATION

All persons not deputied as special officers are ordered to

disarm in a proclamation issued shortly before noon by Mayor

Evans. Persons carrying guns after that hour will be arrested.

The proclamation:

"Armed troops, well equipped, have now arrived who, with

the assistance of the local authorities, will be able to control

the situation in this city. Everyone is directed to preserve law

an dorder and to avoid under every circumstance, the gather-

ing on the streets of curious and excited masses. This only

tends to make the situation worse for the authorities in restor-

ing order, making it more burdensome and complicated. No

loyal citien of Tulsa will willingly commit any act which en-

dangers the peace and security of the city. All parties, without

direct authority from the chief of police or the sheriff or Tulsa

county, who may be found after 11 a. m. today bearing arms and

engaged in any act liable to promote a breach of the peace will

be arrested and prosecuted under the Riot Act.

"Headquarters of the National Guards is established in

Room 306, City Hall, at Fourth street and Cincinnati avenue,

and except for duly appointed policeman and deputy sheriffs

all permission to bear ar mfsrom, and after, the publication of

this proclamation must be countersigned by Gen. Charles F.

Barrett or Col. B. F. Markham, commanding the National Guards.

"Gen. Charles F. Barrett concurs in this proclamation."

Dated 10:30 a. m., June First 1921.

"T. D. EVANS, Mayor."

Barrett is Put in Full

Charge by Robertson

OKLAHOMA CITY. - Martial law in Tulsa was ordered by

Governor Robertson at 11:15 o'clock and Adjutant General Bar-

rett placed in command of the city. The order was given over

the long distance telephone and a proclamation to this effect is

being prepared and will be issued immediately.

The order of Governor Robertson invoking martial law

over Tulsa has been extended to include all of Tulsa county. The

order will displace civil control and place it in supreme com-

mand of the adjutant general.

The governor's telegram to the adjutant general follows:

"I have declared martial law throughout Tulsa county and

am holding you responsible for maintenance of order, safety of

lives and protection of property. You will do all things neces-

sary to attain these objects.

(Signed) "J. B. A. ROBERTSON, Governor."

The governor acted after being in communication with of-

ficers in Tulsa. Attorney General Freeling will go to Tulsa this

afternoon.

"The situation at Tulsa seems peculiar to me," Governor

Robertson said. "With power vested in all city and county offi-

cials there to deputie and put into the law enforcement every

citien of the city if necessary, I cannot understand how this

trouble was allowed to get such a start."

Conversation with Adjutant General Barrett was to the ef-

fect that it was impossible for the fire department to enter the

negro section and that the flames were raging unabated.

All available guardsmen will be placed on duty once in

the negro section, which has been entirely destroyed by flames,

General Barrett said when he r[eceived order?] from Governor

Robertson placing the county under martial law.

Orders have been issued to disarm citizens. Later the

military will issu ecrededntials to men chosen as special officers.

A military commission, composed of seven city officials

and business men, to pass upon the guilt of the 6,000 negroes

now held in concentration camp, was formed shortly before

noon by Mayor Evans and Chief of Police Gustafson and ap-

proved by General Barrett. This committee will pass upon the

guilt of those held under guard in the various camps, naming

those who will be held for trial for inciting the black populace

to riot.

The personnel of the committee: C. S. Younkman, water

commissioner; Albert Hunt, district judge; H. F. Newblock,

city commissioner; C. S. Aver, oil man; Grant McCullough,

banker; F. E. White, business man; Alva J. Niles, banker.

The Tulsa Tribbune

RESTORE ORDER

LYNCH law leads not to law but to lawlessness and

lawlessness is a repudiation of government.

Lynch law is a fire brand in the hands of those

who thoughtlessly elect to establish mob rule for law

and order. Lynch law is an impassioned appeal to the

hatreds of prejudice. It brings ignominy and disaster

to any community that falls its victims.

Whatever ground it may have had, a story starts

that a negro in the county jail was to be lynched. Out

of curiosity a crowd collects. A small band of negroes

brings firearms onto the scene. At first they were few

At the outset there was nothing to indicate that the

whites had been moved to a battling protest. But when

the first small band of negroes added to their armed

forces the war began. Tulsa found itself experiencing

a night of terror and the new day dawned with the

[illegible]nd of battle and the sky clouded with the smoke that

rises above the burning buildings and shacks in the

negro end of town.

At such a time as this it is the first duty of every

citizen to restore law and order as quickly as possible.

The National Guard is equal to cope with the rioting

negroes who are already under control. Let every citi-

zen do his duty and lend his fullest influence to the

prompt restoration of law and order. Do this for the

good name of Tulsa. Keep off the streets where there

are evidences of disorder as much as possible. Make

no needlessly threatening display of arms. The state's

soldiers can do that and do it with the authority of the

law.

Now is the time for every citizen to keep a cool

head, to keep out of mob collections. The quickest and

surest way to restore law is to respect the law. Let the

authorized agents of the law handle those who will

not.

BLACK QUARTER BURNS TO GROUND;

FOUR GUARD UNITS TAKE CHARGE

Seven white persons are known to be dead.

One white woman, shot six times, is expected to die.

Thirty-four whites are wounded in three hospitals. Many other wounded persons are

in their own homes.

Sixty-eight negroes, including men, women, and children, are dead, according to reports

from all districts of the black belt where heavy fighting was waged throughout the night

and up to 9 o-clock this morning.

One hundred blacks are believed wounded.

The officials are in control of the situation and no more armed conflicts are expected.

The entire black belt of Tulsa is a charred mass. The business section of

Greenwood avenue is levelled. Scarcely a building escaped the flames set by

torches when an army of whites invaded that district early this morning to an-

ticipate a general attack on the part of the blacks. Officials at noon today were

unable to estimate the total loss which will extend into many thousands of dollars.

It is estimated that more than 500 homes of negroes were burned. A score of

business buildings and a number of factories were razed. Heavy stocks of mer-

chandise were a total loss.

The fire carried by a strong north wind spread into the white residence

section adjoining the black settlement on North Detroit avenue. Ten homes in a

row were burned before firemen could check the flames. One house was burned

in the immediate vicinity of Standpipe hill.

At 12:30 o'clock the fire in this district was rapidly being brought under

control.

Hundres of white women and children fled from their homes as the leap-

ing flames fanned by a strong wind from the north ate their way to the white

belt. About 11 o'clock the wind subdued, giving the firemen a chance to

successfully combat the flames.

A special train bearing 350 National Guardsmen under the command

of Adjutant General Barrett arrived at 9:05 o'clock this morning. General Bar-

rett issued a statement from guard headquarters at the police station that mar-

tial law would not be declared until he had made a hurried investigation.

Only developments will determine if it is to be invoked,

Barrett added. Companies A and B, totaling 150 men, arrived

on the special train from Oklahoma City, with a second troop

train due from the capital about 11 o'clock. Company B and a

sanitary detachment, both located here, are also on duty and

have been since midnight.

The guards after establishing headquarters in Second

street in front of the police station were ordered to various sec-

tions of the black belt. One contingent was sent to Meulty park,

where several hundred negroes are interned.

General Barrett is now acting under orders issued by Mayor

Evans, Chief of Police Gustafson and Sheriff Bill McCullough.

Following a night of rioting, snip-

ing and open clashes between whites

and blacks hundreds of armed men

invaded the negro district to remove

the menace the blacks there offered.

At 5 o'clock scores of armed men in

automobiles drove to the north side

of the black belt in the vicinity of

Standpipe hill. These white fighters

formed one wing of an encircling

movement entirely surrounding the

negro district. Hundreds of pedes-

trains advanced on the black belt

from the south and west. Hundreds

of shots were fired. Many negroes

were reported to have been wound-

ed while a number of whites were

taken to hospitals with wounds.

The heaviest fighting this morn-

ing was in the extreme northern sec-

tion of the black belt. Hundreds of

negroes were concentrated in a val-

ley at the base of Sunset hill. Fifty

were barricaded in a church.

Machine Guns In Use.

Deadly volleys of steel were poured

[into?] the ranks of the whites as they

[advanced?] in open formation against

the blacks who stood their ground.

Finally the whites were forced to re-

treat. A call was sent to police head-

quarters for reinforcements. A num-

ber of guardsmen with two machine

guns were rushed in automobiles to

the scene of the fighting. The ma-

chine guns were set up and for 20

minutes poured a stream of lead on

the negroes who sought refuge be-

hind buildings, telephone poles and

in ditches.

The heavy firing came to a sud-

den halt when a huge white cloth

was raised aloft by the negroes. The

church where many negroes were

barricaded was riddled with bullets,

it was said.

Hundreds of negroes with hands

held high in the air walked from

the valley under the guard of armed

civilians. They were taken to Con-

vention hall and McNulty park,

where they were interned.

Whites who returned from the

battle-swept valley said that at least

50 negroes, including men, women

and children, were lying dead. At 10

o'clock authorities had been unable

to make a check of the black losses

in this battle.

Most of the blacks who were killed

met death in the early morning

fighting in the negro section near

the Frisco tracks.

___________________________

THE START

The clash had its inception when

several automobiles loaded with

armed negroes and said to have been

led by "Old Man" Stratford, a ne-

gro hotel proprietor, swung up in

front of the courthouse shortly be-

fore 10 o'clock, bent on protecting

Rowland. Not more than 30 blacks

were in the first party but they suc-

ceeded in virtually taking command

of the situation there because few

of the whites were armed and none

displayed guns. The blacks were or-

dered home by Sheriff McCullough,

who it is said, had armed negro

deputies with him on the courthouse

steps. Barney Cleaver, a former negro

police officer, also advised them to

go home. After the first sally, dur-

ing which the blacks dispersed part

of the crowd of whites, the negroes

were still permitted to keep their

guns.

Instead of going home, they cir-

cled around several blocks near the

courthouse and came back with an-

other flourish of shot-guns and

rifles. By this time the crowd of

whites had increased to several

thousand with hundreds of women

and a number of children on the

fringes. Most of the whites wer on-

lookers and there appeared to be

no organized mob. After making

known their intention to protect

Rowland at all costs the blacks were

star[ing?] toward home again. There

was still no move on the part of the

sheriff's forces or the city police to

disarm them although the black

force was not more than 50 at this

time.

Instead of going to the negro sec-

tion to stay the blackss whirled

through the streets of the quarter

and sought recruits. Every negro

they met was solicited to joion their

ranks. At Sixth and Cincinnati two

negroes who refused were threat-

ened, according to residents of the

neighborhood who overheard the

conversation.

Shortly after 10 o'clock the blacks

came back to the courthouse with

their biggest force. Estimates place

the number of armed negroes at be-

tween 100 and 200. By this time

it was estimated that probably 100

of the whites in the crowd had

procured arms. A number of whites

who sought guns at the National

Guard armory were refused. Cour-

iers went through the crowd of

whites and warned women and

children and unarmed men to seek

safety. They said they feared an

assault by the blacks. Only a part

of the crowd complied.

The first clash followed on the

heels of this warning. There are

two versions of how the firing be-

gun. According to some of the spectators

pistols were first fired into the air

in front of the Boulder street en-

trance to the courthouse and this,

spectators say, acted as a signal for

the general firing during which the

blacks fired ten shots to each one

for the whites. The crowd of whites

greatly outnumbered the armed

band of negroes but the whites were

helpless in front of the black on-

slaught because they were in con-

stant danger of firing into other

whites if they attempted to protect

the women and children in the crowd

by answering the blacks fire.

Where First Man Fell

After the first volley one carload

of blacks came north on Boulder

avenue, firing as they raced along.

The first white man dropped be-

fore the crash. He had been stand-

ing against the wall of the garage

on Boulder, just south of Sixth

street.

Across the street men and women

in the crowd sought refuge in the

row of houses on Boulder south of

Sixth. Many of them were unoble

to reach cover before the second

volley so they dropped in their

tracks and clung to the earth.

Others hid behind curbs in the

driveways to the garages of these

homes, running to better cover be-

tween the volleys.

Meanwhile the negroes fled.

Some of them ran through the

crowds of women and children,

brandishing their guns. They had

disappeared from the immediate

area of the courthouse within ten

minutes after the first shot had been fired.

Second Version of Start

The second version of the start

of the firing was to the effect that

a number of unarmed white men,

seeing that the officials were not

willing to disarm the blacks, took

that task to themselves. One man

is reported to have dashed into the ranks of blacks and seized one of the

guns. Spectators who relate this as

the true story of the inception of

the shooting declare that the blacks

immediately opened fire when they

were threatened with disarmament.

Shortly after the negroes fled

from the courthouse battlefield an

automobile load of white youths

sped past and fired into the jail

windows on the fourth floor, spec-

tators declared.

John McQueen, a former county

officer and one of the men who at-

tempted to disperse the crowd at the

courthouse, declared today that

Johnny Cody was the negro whose

shot started the general firing here.

"While I was on the steps Cody

and a band of negroes started up,"

McQueen said. "I went to meet them

and a stranger backed me uo. Cody

pushed a gun against him and fired

just as I pushed the gun away. The

stranger went down. Several bullets

went through my coat."

Immediately after this report came

to the crowd that the blacks were

mobilizing for systematic assault on

the whites. The majority of the

white men were still [illegible]. It

became immediately apparent how-

ever, that the police and sheriff's

force were making no attempt to

prevent the return of the blacks so

the white men themselves took

charge of the situation. Small

groups systematically entered all

downtown hardware stores and

pawnshops and took up all the arms

and ammunition that could be found

Nothing else in any of the stores

were touched.

Black Attack Again.

Soon there were more than 1,000

armed men on the streets. Part of

this crowd defended the Hotel Tulsa

and the section around Second street

and Cincinnati avenue from an attack

of blacks who swarmed back within

three quarters of an hour after the

court house battle.

After this second general battle,

which is described elsewhere, the

whites took rapid command of the

situation. Patrols spread quickly to

cover all the principal streets and

the roads leading into the city.

Special guards were put at all bridges

within a several-mile radius to halt

any incoming blacks. Roving pa-

trols moved up and down Main

street. At Main and Archer streets

desultory firing took place for sev-

eral hours. Blacks from their quar-

ter fired repeatedly from behind the

building at Archer street and Boulder

avenue and Archer and Cincinnati

avenue. They were cleared out with-

in an hour or two, but a second

group took their place and held the

negro block on Cincinnati, at the

Frisco tracks, against assault until

early this morning. Two negroes were

killed here and several others wound-

ed. A number of whites were re-

ported wounded in fighting here.

Could Have Disarmed Blacks.

Fully an hour before the first

shots were fired at the courthouse

citizens stood on the south steps and

pleaded with Police Commissioner

Adkison to call out the National

Guard without delay. The negroes

were just beginning to parade the

streets at that time and they argued

that even a small detachment of or-

ganized and equipped men could dis-

arm them, compel them to return to

their own part of ftown, get the

whites to disperse when this had

been accomplished and so avert im-

pending trouble.

Commissioner Adkison answered:

"We are trying to get them out,"

then turned and told the crowd to

obey E. S. McQueen's advice to go

home while the negroes were patrol-

ling the streets in arms, threatening

death and rapine. The police were

powerless.

An hour after the pitched battle

took place around the courthouse

and northward along Main and Bos-

ton, the Guard got into action.

Guardsmen went immediately to the

police station and began an attempt

to disperse the whites who had

armed themselves and gathered

there in expectation of another at-

tack.

_____________________________

The Dead

Carl D. Lotpeisch, 28, Randall

Kans., shot through breast. Taken to

Oklahoma hospital at 6:30 o'clock

this morning. He died shortly after-

ward.

Unidentified whate man, about

28; light brown hair; light brown

eyes; five feet ten inches; 160

pounds. At the Mowbray undertak-

ing parlors.

F. M. Baker, Havelin, Kan., 27,

short in back with buchshot. Died

this morning at Morningside hospi-

tal. At the Mowbray Undertaking

parlors. An identification card found

in his clothing bore the name of

Norman Gillard, 315 So. Norfolk.

The third white man, unidentified

was killed about 5:45 o'clock this

morning when a squad of white

riflemen engaged a group of ne-

groes on North Cincinnati av. The

body was taken to Mitchell-Fleming

undertaking parlors. He was de-

scribed as about 25 years old, six

feet [ta?]ll, weight 165 punds. He

wore dark green trousers, brown

coat, tan shoes, and a tan belt with

a silver clasp bearing the initial

"W". He was shot in the neck.

Death was instantaneous.

The body of an unidentified white

man about 35, held at the Stanley-

McGee Undertaking parlors still

was unidentified early today. He

was shot in the head.

The body of a white man, about

30, shot in the back of the head, held at

the Mowbray undertaking parlors,

ho[illegible] [ea?]rly last night in the first brush

with the blacks, still was unidentified

this morning.

[1?]0-year-old white boy, though

to [be?] named Olson, home at Sapulpa

died at 8:30 o'clock following a bat-

tle an hour earlier at the Frisco depot

in which two negroes were reported

killed. Olson's body was removed to

the Mitchell-Fleming undertaking

parlors where it awaits positive

identification.

A white girl was reported killed on

North Peoria in the vicinity of the

Texaco plant. the report could not

be verified at 10 o'clock.

____________________________

The Injured

A re-check of the injured revealed

the following at the various hospit-

als:

Oklahoma Hospital.

Earl Hileman, city, shot through

thigh, not serious

G. B. Steck, Sapulpa, shot in back,

serious.

J. E. Wissinger, 150 Admiral or

1202 East Second, shot in knee, not

srious.

G. F. Joiner, 1703 South Main, shot

in leg, not serious.

Ross G. Owens, 1108 South Jack-

son, shot with bird shot, several

wounds but not serious.

E. D. Hartshone, shot in thigh.

Edward Austin, 418 South Detroit,

shot in toe, not serious.

Grocer Slinkhard, West Tulsa, fac-

tured rib.

Robet Elmer, West Tulsa,

A. N. Dow, 401 South Madison,

shot in upper thigh and compound

fracture of arm, serious.

C. C. Thomas, 803 South Main,

shot in leg, not serious.

E. R. Hileam, Fern hotel, com-

pound fracture of thigh, serious.

Garland Crouch, 16 North Quincy,

shot in upper abdomen and right

arm, though serious.

A. T. Sterling, 314 South Zunis,

minor injuries.

Robert Palmore, West Tulsa, shot

in left shoulder, not serious.

E. Belchner, 1437 East Hodge,

shot in hand and leg, not serious.

Lee Fisher, 338 1/2 East First, shot

in left leg and thigh, thought serious.

G. I. Prunkart, Frisco conductor,

shot with bird shot in shoulder, chin

and forehead. He was shot while

sitting in caboose of train just pulling

into city.

There are two wounded patients

unidentified. Fifteen or 20 patients

having only slight wounds called at

hospital and had them dressed, left

hospital without giving name or ad-

dress.

Tulsa Hospital

George Switzgood, 415 N. Detroit;

not serious.

K. G. Logsdon, 308 S. Cincinnatti;

shot in arm; not seriously.

Sergt. W. R. Hastings, 1507 E. Jef-

ferson; not serious. After having his

wounds dressed, Sergeant Hastings

immediately left hospital.

H. L. Curry, Illinois hotel, shot

through neck; serious.

E. F. Vickers, city; arm shot.

M. W. Camble. 220 W. Cam [Iron;?]

thought serious.

Jess Collins, 522 N. Boston; serious.

R. N. Seltzer, 529 S. Utica; leg, not

serious.

Otto Sherry, 112 N. Frisco; face

powder burned.

Thirty-five or forty who were only

slightly wounded were attended at

the hospital. After the wounds were

dressed they walked out, leaving

no name or address.

Physicians & Surgeons Hospital.

R. C. Hankson, Jenks, Okla., tool

dresser; shot through right wrist,

bullet traveling through abdomen

into the left arm; shot at 6:45 a. m.

___________________________

NOTICE TO TELEPHONE

SUBSCRIBERS

______________

Please use your telephones only

in case of emergency. This will

assist us in protecting life and pro-

erty.

SOUTHWESTERN BELL TELE-

PHONE COMPANY

___________________________

CURTIS BROWN CO. sells PHOE-

NIX PURE SILK HOSE. Phone 232.

____________________________

We sincerely trust that the

local disturbance is over. We

do not want to give the im-

pression of trying to drive in

business as the result of a

calamity.

It is our duty, however, to

call t he public's attention to

the fact that the standard fire

policies do NOT cover loss re-

sulting from Riot, Insurrection

or Civil Commotion.

We write Riot, Insurrection

and Civil Commotion Insur-

ance and the cost of same is

very slight. Call us for rates.

Policies are written here in

our office. Phone Cedar 2100.

Pearce, Porter & Martin

500 Palace Building

_______________________

NOTICE

______

Because of the race war

the announcement of the re-

maining entrants in The

Tribune beauty contest will

be carried in all editions to-

morrow and none today.

#archivesgov #June 1 #1921 #1920s #Tulsa Massacre #Tulsa #Oklahoma #newspaper #riots #racism #Tulsa100

186 notes · View notes

maatryoshkaa · 4 years ago

Text

young god | chapter 16

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 14.3k

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, domestic & child abuse, sexual abuse of a minor, descriptions of mental illness, death, dark themes and foul language. once again, all information regarding psychiatric conditions or courtroom procedures are to be taken with a grain of salt.

description: Han Jisung wrestles with the demons of his past as Kim Seungmin faces his own dilemma in the present, with one last chilling threat from Prosecutor Kang forcing Seungmin to make a final, crucial decision. The clock is counting down as your last chance wears thin, and one unexpected declaration is all it takes for things to change—forever.

watch the trailer here!

16| the prisoner’s dilemma.

Jisung was still frozen in place long after the heavy doors had swung shut and erased your face from his sight. His own hand felt foreign as he held it against his stinging cheek, the dull throbbing drowned out by the words still ringing in his ears.

Your friends want you to stay alive. Your mother wanted you to stay alive.

I need you to stay alive.

Bang Chan was watching him from the side, the detective’s eyes filled with equal parts amusement and wariness. Finally, he spoke. “You deserved that, you know.”

Jisung was silent, but his mind was already replaying the scene over and over again. Your anxious eyes, your voice trembling with the effort to stay steady. The slap couldn’t compare to the pain that had etched itself into your features every time he had spoken harshly, trying again and again to push you away. I know I did.

Chan sighed. “How are you feeling?”

A soft laugh escaped from Jisung’s dry mouth. “Dizzy,” he deadpanned honestly. The adrenaline was beginning to die down, but instead of leaving him sick in the stomach and with a pounding headache like usual, Jisung felt almost...lightheaded with relief. “Like...like a kid that just got told off?”

The detective chuckled, letting out his low, signature whistle. “What’d I tell you? That’s love, mate.”

Jisung looked at him now, incredulous. “Getting slapped in the face?”

“No,” Chan smiled, but for once, his eyes were serious. “Someone who cares about you enough to call you out when you’re wrong.”

Not knowing what to say, Jisung turned away, letting the ticking of the clock on the wall fill the strained silence. He could still feel Chan’s gaze on him, but it was no longer the look of a detective trying to dissect a case file. Instead, it held the same strange softness it had when Chan had pulled Jisung aside at the Third Eye, and asked if he was okay.

“I told you once,” Chan began slowly, “that everyone deserves to be loved, and that you’re no different. Of course, things have...changed,” he continued, and Jisung looked down, throat tight as he waited for Chan to finish. “But I still stand by what I said.”

Before Jisung could reply, the intercom crackled overhead. “The court hearing for Han Jisung and the Miroh Heights Murder Cases will be resuming in five minutes. All attorneys, jurors, and participants in the trial, please report to the courtroom immediately—”

“Detective, you should get going,” a security guard spoke lowly to Chan, who sighed and nodded, pulling himself to his feet. As he passed where Jisung was standing, he stopped briefly.

“You’re a good kid, Han Jisung. Even if you don’t believe it yourself...you had better start to.”

“Chan—”

The detective had reached the door when he looked over his shoulder at Jisung. He had the same old mischievous smile on his face again, but his eyes were sad.

“I hope we can grab another coffee together some time, yeah?”

━━━━━━━━

Seungmin’s head was spinning as he pushed through rooms packed with spectators and reporters until he finally stumbled into an emptier hallway. His eyes gleaned the plaques on the doors, searching for the room number the court clerks had given him after Seungmin had overheard their frantic conversation.

“We can’t just end the case here — the media and people’ll riot.”

“But we’ve lost a witness and the lead prosecutor of the case in one day — how the hell is the trial supposed to continue?”

The clerk wringed his hands. “We need to find out if there were any other prosecutors working with Kang on the case — call them in ASAP—”

And so, here Seungmin was — heart threatening to leap out of his throat, charging headfirst into a case that had been ripped out of his hands months ago. He had stepped into their conversation impulsively, and now a thousand warning bells were going off in his mind.

Kim Seungmin was not impulsive. Kim Seungmin always calculated his plans perfectly, meticulously. It was one of the reasons why he had always been at the top of his class, graduating a year early with honours. Always praised for being levelheaded and thorough.

Still, he thought, there had been one person that had seen right through him.

“You’re stressed,” you blurted bluntly, and Seungmin’s coffee cup froze midway to his lips. You were in his office, one of the many meetings you two had arranged in order to keep each other updated with information regarding Jisung’s case.

“We’re all stressed,” Seungmin replied matter-of-factly, unsure where you were going with this, but you shook your head.

“But you try the hardest out of all of us to hide it. Tell me if I’m crossing a line here, but—” you looked at him, tilting your head. “You seem like the type who’s calm and collected on the outside to...hide the fact that you’re still wrestling with nerves, and insecurities, on the inside. Like a defense mechanism.”

Seungmin fell silent. Instinctively, he felt the urge to laugh it off, but in a fleeting moment, his mind wandered to his coworkers— their condescending gazes at who they thought was just a lucky amateur, a young imposter infringing upon a field with people twice his age. Since his first day at the law firm, Seungmin had felt an unbearable desire to prove himself worthy in their eyes, and the anxious feeling ate away at him every time he touched a case.

Sensing the sudden change in mood, you quickly stammered, “I-I’m sorry, that was so unnecessary—what I’m trying to say is— it’s okay to be nervous. Don’t psyche yourself out with your own expectations for yourself. U-um—”

You trailed off, mortified, but Seungmin let out a small laugh, shaking his head lightly when your eyes widened in confusion. “No, no, it’s just…” You were smart and capable — anyone could see that — but always seemed to second-guess your own abilities. He found it almost endearing. “You really are a psychology major, Miss l/n.”

Seungmin rounded a corner and nearly slammed into someone that had just walked out of the men’s washrooms. Before he could apologise, Seungmin looked up into the man’s face and his gut twisted unpleasantly.

Prosecutor Kang seized Seungmin by the collar before he could walk away, his face livid. The younger man’s eyes darted down either side of the empty hallway, then back at his former senior. He had heard Kang was to be kept at the courthouse until the end of the trial, in case they needed anything from him. There were guards flanking every entrance and exit, so Kang couldn’t exactly escape, but seeing him walk around unsupervised still made Seungmin uneasy.

“S-sir, you can’t—”

“Do you remember what you said? What you promised?” Kang seethed, eyes wild as they raked Seungmin up and down. “‘I can handle it. I’ll find the culprit, and I’ll convict him. Death penalty, no less.’”

Hearing his own words coming out of Kang’s mouth made Seungmin wince and shrink back. Kang caught his discomfort, grinning savagely before jerking his head in the direction of the holding cells, where Jisung was. “You’re taking over the case, aren’t you? Your culprit’s right there. Everything’s been laid out for you, it couldn’t be simpler.”

Seungmin let out a shaky breath, fists clenched by his sides. Before he could open his mouth, Kang pulled him in closer, voice dangerously low.

“I always thought it was fishy, you know — someone your age, already entering the field? So I did my research.” Kang paused, smirking. “You’re a little prodigy, aren’t you? I didn’t know your parents were renowned lawyers, too.”

At that, Seungmin froze, shocked eyes darting up to meet Kang’s. It was true — born into a family of influential law enforcement officials, Seungmin had practically grown up reading about legal matters and judicial affairs. Despite his efforts to keep his parentage discreet as he grew older — hating the way their reputations always preceded his own — the expectations to follow in their footsteps had always remained suffocating. He loved law with all his heart, but his own family had become yet another reason why Seungmin had so much to live up to, and even more to lose.

The older prosecutor chuckled — Seungmin must have looked like a deer in headlights. “You can’t disappoint them, yes? You need to do everything you can to uphold the big family name.” Kang’s voice had a dangerous edge to it, like a blade. “My career might be over, little prosecutor, but I have far more power than you think. I can make sure you never step foot into this profession ever again. You want to prove yourself? To me, to your fellow prosecutors, to your parents? Here’s your chance.”

There was a snakelike glint in Kang’s eyes when he finally let Seungmin go, his words seeping through Seungmin’s mind like poison.

Prove yourself. Prove yourself. A security guard had appeared at the end of the hallway, and without another word, Kang calmly turned on his heel, letting the guard escort him away. Seungmin watched his silhouette grow fainter, feeling sick to his stomach.

Just how many cases...no, how many prosecutors had Kang manipulated for his own benefit?

He took a shuddering breath. Time was running out. Forcing his feet to move, Seungmin finally found the room, barely listening when the clerk quickly explained that the rights to the case were being transferred to him last minute.

“Ten minutes, Prosecutor Kim. You have approximately ten minutes to prepare your case.”

The roomful of law officials were watching him with doubtful eyes — the same doubtful, scornful gazes that had followed him his entire life. Ten minutes. Picking up where Kang had left off would be the smoothest, most reasonable route. Preparing an entirely different argument, however, was suicide.

Seungmin glanced up at the clock, and his heart sank.

━━━━━━━━

The commotion in the courtroom sounded like the buzzing of an agitated beehive, the constant thrumming of hushed conversations and your own erratic heartbeat fueling the tense atmosphere.

Hyunjin, Felix, Woojin, and you had sprinted straight to the courtroom after a rapid search for Seungmin had turned up futile — the prosecutor was nowhere to be seen, but judging from the murmurs you overheard around you, the case had been transferred into his hands with mere minutes to spare. You bit your lip nervously. This should have been good news, but you all knew that the odds — and time — were still against you. Looking the weariest you’d ever seen him, Bang Chan collapsed into the seat next to you. He tried to give you a reassuring smile, but as he turned away, eyes glued to the scene about to unfold, you saw that his features were strained and pale.

With a creak that send a hush rippling through the courtroom, the doors swung open to reveal more familiar faces — the judge, the prosecution, the jury. Your eyes instinctively flickered to Jisung, whose expression was as guarded as ever, and instantly felt a pang of guilt in your chest. The rest of the room, however, had fallen silent before the judge had even spoken. All their gazes were trained on the new prosecutor that had entered the room.

Seungmin felt the stares on him before he even looked up, dozens of eyes weighing down on him as if he were a butterfly pinned to a specimen table. He should have gotten used to the stares by now — this was far from his first court hearing — but when he looked out into the faces of the audience, he still felt the same squeamish anxiety he had always tried so desperately to ignore. Their expressions were dubious, condescending, unconvinced — as if all to say, is this a joke? This kid is the new lead prosecutor?

The judge cleared her throat, pushing her half-moon spectacles back onto her nose. “Thank you for your patience. The court hearing for Han Jisung and the Miroh Heights Murder Cases is now back in session. You may be seated.” She turned to Seungmin, eyes narrowed. “What is the case the prosecution will be presenting?”

Seungmin’s mind was racing as he turned over the envelope in his hands — the envelope containing Kang’s case file — and slid out the papers with numb fingertips. As he did so, familiar words echoed in his mind — words he had been told since he had first chosen to study law, and words he had forced himself to live by ever since.

“You have a big heart, Kim Seungmin — too big. Learn to control your emotions if you want to make it in this field.”

“You have to be cold, quick, and rational. Kindness is a weakness.”

“There is no room for a wavering heart in prosecution.”

He had always taken the words like bitter medicine, beyond determined to prove to his older coworkers that he wasn’t just the incompetent young prosecutor they always made him out to be. Desperate to prove to his family that he was capable, that he wouldn’t tarnish their names. Every step he had taken had been careful, calculated, all so that Seungmin could win their approval, finally escape their suffocating scrutiny.

“Your Honour,” Seungmin began, “as a prosecutor, I was taught that my duty is to defend the rule of law to ensure justice is served, no matter how harsh it may be.”

You watched the young prosecutor speak carefully, his grave expression making your gut twist. Kim Seungmin, Chan had told you once in passing, came from a family of established lawyers — a child prodigy with big shoes to fill, and everything to lose. And now, you realised with dread, his words seemed to be an exact echo of Prosecutor Kang’s.

Seungmin’s stomach was fluttering as if it were his first trial again, heart palpitating with each passing moment as he was seized with the sudden urge to run. Taking a deep breath, his gaze flickered up to meet yours in the audience — your blazing eyes, charged with emotion, your heart always written so clearly across your adamant features. You, who stopped at nothing in order to protect what you believed was right.

Prove yourself. Prove to everyone you’re good enough, strong enough.

He closed his eyes, knowing that he would regret what he was about to say.

“But I was also taught that a good prosecutor is one that uses the law to protect the people.” Seungmin swallowed hard, sliding Kang’s papers back into the envelope and dropping it onto the desk behind him. “Thus, the case I am presenting today is not one that intends to prove Han Jisung guilty of first degree murder.”

The entire room erupted in frantic murmurs, the judge hurriedly banging the gavel to maintain order. Seungmin caught a glimpse of Jisung’s expression — the boy was still looking down, but his face had paled in surprise at the prosecutor’s sudden declaration. Just then, the doors burst open, a red-faced clerk with a handful of padded envelopes ducking in and hurrying to Seungmin’s side.

“What you requested, sir,” the clerk explained quietly, handing him the envelopes, and Seungmin recalled the conversation they had had in the conference rooms, just before the trial had recommenced.

“There are ten minutes remaining until we have to begin,” the clerk informed Seungmin worriedly, seeing the young prosecutor’s tense face. “Is there anything you need from the former prosecution? Since these are special circumstances, I can have them brought to you as soon as possible during the trial.”

Either ten minutes to gather the evidence he needed, Seungmin thought dismally, or ten minutes to build a strong argument from what he—no, Kang—already had.

“Listen carefully.” Screwing his eyes shut, Seungmin continued, “Please fetch me Han Jisung’s camcorder footage — the memory cards — and Yang Jeongin’s Walkman tapes from Prosecutor Kang’s archives. All of them, immediately.”

The knot of anxiety in Seungmin’s chest finally began to unclench, the envelopes’ contents anchoring him in place with a reassuring weight. He turned to the judge, surprised at the newfound authority in his own voice. “The prosecution maintains that Han Jisung is not guilty of first degree murder. We will be presenting all the evidence Prosecutor Kang excluded, and examining the case from all angles so that the jury may form an accurate judgement and verdict.”

“That’s—an entirely new argument,” Hyunjin whispered incredulously beside you. “How did he come up with a case in ten minutes?”

“He didn’t. He’s building his case on the spot,” Chan realised out loud, a small smile spreading on his lips. He leaned forward with a glint of pride in his eyes. “Now that’s the Kim Seungmin I know.”

You watched as Seungmin called up his first witness, who was none other than Kang’s psychiatric expert. “You introduced yourself as the psychiatrist involved with this case — responsible for analysing the defendant’s mental condition, correct?”

The red-nosed man coughed nervously. “Y-yes, uh, well — the defendant was unwilling to speak during the evaluation, so we were unable to gain much personal testimony—”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Seungmin picked up one the envelopes, handing it to the court clerk and motioning for him to project the contents. “The following is recovered footage from a camcorder the defendant was gifted when he was six years old, and developed a habit of carrying around.” He turned towards the psychiatrist. “It’s raw, untampered footage containing experiences from the defendant’s childhood. I want you to watch it and answer a few questions. There is, however, graphic content, and I advise the spectators to view it with caution.”

You saw Seungmin cast a worried look towards Jisung, and you knew how the prosecutor was feeling. After nearly thirteen years of Jisung hiding his past from even his closest friends, it was all suddenly being thrust under the harsh light — in front of a roomful of people who wanted to sentence him to death, no less — but you both knew that this was your last chance.

The projector whirred as the clerk inserted the first memory cards into the computer. The memory cards had been confiscated by Kang before you had gotten the chance to watch them yourself — what you did know about the footage came from the bits Chan had recounted for you after several insistent phone calls, and what Jisung himself had told you that fateful night. Uneasiness stirring in your chest, you watched as the screen came to life, blurry colours and pixelated outlines taking shape.

There was nothing out of the ordinary at first — short clips of chipped action figures on dusty windowsills, or toy cars rolling idly across wooden floors. The footage was shaky, as if the person holding the camcorder could barely support its weight. Jisung had barely been six years old, you remembered, feeling a strange feeling of sadness wash over you. It was as if you were watching a movie you already knew the ending to, and all that was left in your gut was a sinking dread at what was about to come.

As the clerk flipped through the footage, a faint sound pricked at your ears, and you jerked your head up, listening to make sure you had heard right — and sure enough, there it was. Muffled shouting, like it was coming from another room in the house, something heavy shattering on the floor — and judging from the murmurs and faces of the spectators around you, they heard it as well. The camcorder was still pointed at the action figurines, but had frozen stiffly — as if the child holding it was listening, too.

More scenes began to unfold, one after another. A birthday, six lopsided candles glowing on a small white cake. Jisung humming a familiar tune with a woman you assumed was his mother. And clip after clip where the camcorder was pointed at the ceiling of a dark room — Jisung’s childhood bedroom — as the sounds of arguing and yelling echoed through the walls. Slowly but surely, the scenes began to grow familiar.

“February 22nd, 2005.”

The day Jisung had stumbled across another woman in his parents’ bed, and his father had terrorized him until he promised not to tell anyone.

“June 3rd, 2006.”

His face-to-face encounter with his father’s mistress, one that left scars in the form of cigarette burns, red-lipped smiles, and tainted touches.

“December 31st, 2009.”

The day everything had gone wrong.

Stomach lurching, you watched as everything Jisung had told you — his rough voice shaking in your darkened apartment, dark eyes holding nightmares of years long past — took the form of grainy camera footage. His father crashing through the doorframe, hands choking the life from the woman beneath him. Even though the camera quality was poor, the woman’s pleading eyes, rolled up towards the tiny crack in the closet where Jisung had been hidden, seemed to pierce directly through you.

It all seemed to happen in a flash — in the blink of an eye, there were flames licking bloodstained floors clean, the camcorder out of focus as Jisung limped through thick white snow and finally collapsed on top of his mother’s cold body. The gritty screams of anguish and pain seemed to ring in your ears long after Seungmin stopped the footage, and you lifted a shaking gaze to Jisung’s face. His eyes had been cast downwards the entire time, but even from across the room, you could see his violently trembling jaw, the ragged heave of his chest. How many times had he lived through this footage himself — in his nightmares, through half-delirious flashbacks, every time he closed his eyes?

“Thirteen years ago, there was a massive fire on the outskirts of Miroh Heights. The Han house was burned to the ground and left a single boy alive, without any relatives to take custody. Unable to fathom what exactly happened, police filed it away as a gas explosion, and the boy was tossed around foster homes and orphanages until it was eventually forgotten,” Seungmin informed them. He thanked Woojin internally as he spoke — after mentioning several times that Jisung’s past sounded strangely familiar, the police captain had been the one to finally connect the dots between the two cold cases, thirteen years apart.

“There were initial speculations of domestic abuse, but they were never investigated thoroughly. The case was neglected, left cold, and when the statute of limitations expired, it was simply dismissed as another tragedy.” Seungmin nodded at the clerk again, who slid the next memory card in.

This card was filled with what sounded like endless psychological evaluations — disembodied voices introducing themselves as social workers, child psychiatrists, and the like, all mercilessly bombarding Jisung with personal questions. The first half was either entirely black or out of focus, as if Jisung had been holding the camcorder down and clutching it close to his body. They had all given up when the young boy could barely get his answers out, the lingering fear and untreated trauma having locked his voice in his throat.

“He’s a lost cause.”

“Problem kid.”

“Impossible to treat.”

You clenched your fists every time a social worker left the room, muttering under their breath in annoyance. Then, as the clips grew clearer, a child with round, catlike eyes and a pale expression beginning to appear in several of the frames.

Lee Minho.

“At the beginning of this decade, we all know that Miroh Heights went through an economic rift — workers were laid off, young children abandoned on the streets. During these times, child abuse and child trafficking cases also skyrocketed.” Seungmin spoke as the screen flashed, the scene now showing what looked like a filthy, unfinished basement floor.

“We witnessed a rise of ‘suicide killers’ — namely, perpetrators who would kidnap and murder their own family members or vulnerable strangers before ending their own lives. Many were acting on their anger and grief through violence; others saw it as a form of revenge.”

With a wince, you remembered what Minho had told you on the rooftop of the hospital that evening — when he and Jisung had been lured into a man’s home by their own hunger, and woke up to him trying to kill them. The sound of approaching footsteps filled the speakers, the camcorder pointed at an awkward angle and shaking uncontrollably before it clattered to the ground, and the footage cut out.

When the next clip began, it was pointed down at wide-eyed, twelve-year-old Jisung.

“Ah, now this is jus’ perfect. The cops’ll love this, yes they will.” You shivered at the man’s hoarse voice behind the camcorder, flinching as the barrel of a gun was pressed to Jisung’s forehead. “Now, boy — I want you to beg for your life — go on.”

Frozen in your seat, you watched as all hell broke loose — the man pressing the trigger just as Jisung managed to cut the cords free, the camcorder smashing into concrete as Jisung fought for his life. When the lens finally focused again, what you saw made your blood run cold. A twelve-year-old boy kneeling before the mangled corpse of a grown man, cherub-like face drenched with crimson. You heard Minho’s shallow, terrified breathing behind the camcorder as Jisung turned towards him, the look in his eyes sending an icy chill down your spine. It was the exact same look he had given you when you had found him at the diner, screaming out his name as if trying to wake him from a nightmare.

Emptiness.

Even through the grainy film, you could catch the moment Jisung’s consciousness returned to him, soft brown eyes shifting and focusing into a childlike, dazed expression once again.

“Minho, can we go home?”

The footage sputtered to a stop. The visceral scene had been exactly as the coroner had described to you on the hospital rooftop, and yet nothing could have prepared you for it. You only realised how badly you had been shaking when Felix gently nudged you, peering at your face worriedly. When you forced yourself to unclench your fists, you winced at the red half-moon weals your nails had left in your palms.

“Both the defendant and coroner Lee Minho were involved in a kidnapping case, and subjected to extreme violence at the ages of twelve and thirteen. The perpetrator died in the incident. There was no culprit to catch. Once again, the case was buried, under the economic turmoil Miroh Heights was experiencing, by neglectful law enforcement.”

Seungmin turned back to look at the psychiatrist. “Now, I’m no expert in analysing family matters, but I think we can confirm several cases of domestic abuse from this footage alone. Parental neglect. Repeated exposure to violence. Years of sexual harassment. How would you psychoanalyse a patient who has gone through these events?”

The red-faced man was evidently shaken, wiping the sweat from his brow as he stuttered out, “This — this is more than enough to cause severe cases of post-traumatic stress disorder.” His eyes darted around the courtroom nervously, as if the words were refusing to come out of his mouth.

“He looks like he’s scared,” you murmured. “Like he’s still unwilling to talk.”

“Kang must have made some sort of a deal with him,” Woojin replied under his breath, shaking his head. “But it’s all over now — he’s got nothing more to lose.”

“You swore an oath before the trial began,” Seungmin pressed sternly, not taking his gaze off the nervous man. “‘I do solemnly declare that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.’ Tell me the truth, sir.”

Cowering under Seungmin’s hard gaze, the psychiatrist finally caved. “The...the fact that these events took place during the defendant’s childhood is even more significant. Children’s minds are—are molded from a very young age. The majority of your adult behaviour is shaped by what you’ve experienced as a child, you see.”

“Earlier, you mentioned the possibility of sociopathy. You reached this conclusion because of the defendant’s criminal records, and reported behaviour such as —” Seungmin pulled out Kang’s papers, quickly flipping through. “Theft. Pyromanic, destructive, and self-destructive tendencies.” He raised an eyebrow at the boys from the diner attack. “Bordering on multiple personas.”

“U-uh, well — using the information given during the previous trial, those symptoms did correlate strongly with antisocial personality disorder. But with this newfound context —” the psychiatrist lowered his head meekly, “th-the symptoms are actually closer to those of an individual suffering from extreme, untreated, PTSD.”

Exhaling slowly, Seungmin nodded at the judge. “Post-traumatic stress disorder. Let’s re-examine the defendant’s behaviour under this lens, then. How would PTSD explain violent tendencies in a child?”

“They’re a form of an exaggerated startle response — a sudden reaction triggered by something that upsets the patient. It’s a common long-term aftereffect of childhood abuse or trauma. Some patients fall unconscious, some experience panic attacks or seizures. In the case of Han Jisung...it came in the form of repeated violent outbursts.”

You thought back to the man Jisung had attacked, seemingly out of nowhere at the Yellow Wood — the dead man whose girlfriend, Chan had told you, had actually come to the precinct a few days before Jisung’s trial.

“She was crying real bad. I thought she would want him—Jisung—dead, that she would tell us to convict him, no matter what,” Chan had told you, the detective’s face still twisted in confusion. “And she doesn’t want to testify — she’s still dealing with the trauma, and doesn’t want anything to do with the trial. But y/n — the girl was crying for him. For Jisung. Said that the kid stepped in right when her boyfriend was hitting her, and — told her to go home.”

An exaggerated startle response. You remembered it from your classes, a sudden reaction triggered by something that upset the patient. Like domestic abuse. Unsolicited sexual approaches. Or, you shivered, little things — like the colour red. His father, his mistress, his mother, his kidnapper — did Jisung constantly see their faces in the shadows, in strangers that were repeating the same mistakes?

“The witnesses who knew Han Jisung when he was younger,” Seungmin continued, turning to the two injured boys from the diner, “also testified that he often changed expressions ‘like a mask.’ Assuming this is true, why might the defendant exhibit this sort of behaviour?”

“Abused children — or people who have experienced severe trauma — can develop dissociative habits. Disconnecting from past memories, information, or even present experiences as a defense mechanism...which is why the defendant might appear to change moods often, or show drastically different sides of himself in different situations.”

“In other words,” Seungmin said slowly, brow furrowing in concentration, “the defendant experienced so many traumatic events during his childhood, that the untreated aftereffects impaired his emotional development into adulthood. Which would explain why his startle response slowly morphed, on a larger scale, into something extremely violent and dangerous.”

The psychiatrist looked weary and defeated. “Correct.”

Motioning for the man to take a seat — which he did gladly — Seungmin pulled out the next envelope — the coroner’s photos from the Yellow Wood attacks. Wordlessly, he projected them onto the screen, eliciting small gasps of horror and disgust around the room.

“Earlier, Prosecutor Kang argued that the violent mutilation of the victims was proof that the perpetrator performed these gruesome acts and mutilations out of personal enjoyment and depravity.” Seungmin turned to address the judge, voice firm.

“Your Honour, under this new context, I would argue that the photos only serve as further visual evidence depicting the defendant’s mental state at the time of the crime.” He flipped through the images. “Multiple wound sites, messy blood spattering, extreme blunt force trauma. And—if the coroner was telling the truth—a stone from the scene of the crime as the murder weapon. All these signs lead us to believe that the defendant’s actions, no, his judgement, was acutely impaired. This response, these attacks, were triggered due to a pre-existing mental condition.”

The room shifted uneasily as his words sunk in, and the judge fixed her stern gaze onto Seungmin. “Does the prosecution have any evidence that directly refutes the previous claim of first degree murder? To prove that the murders were not premeditated, or intentional, beyond a reasonable doubt?”

Think, Seungmin, think. He racked his mind furiously, trying to recall every piece of evidence that you, Chan, and Woojin had gone through with him. Photographs, diagrams, testimony transcripts — Seungmin’s eyes trailed off to the pile of envelopes the clerk had brought, and landed on the packet containing Yang Jeongin’s tapes.

That’s it.

“Yes, Your Honour.” He cleared his throat, mind racing to connect the dots. “As we all know, the living witness of the Yellow Wood attacks, Yang Jeongin, was attacked at around three o’clock in the morning. He worked several late shifts for delivery companies around the town.” Seungmin nodded towards Jeongin. “What we did not know until recently, however, is that the witness had a hobby of recording himself during these shifts on his own Walkman.”

An alarmed murmur rippled through the crowd as Seungmin shook the tapes out from the envelope, handing them to the clerk. After several tense moments, there was a faint crackling, and the recording began to play.

The first tape held a medley of acoustic songs the delivery boy had mixed himself — just as you had remembered it.

The second tape was empty — the one Minho had stolen from the scene of the crime, and you had eventually recovered from his office.

When the clerk popped in the third, the soft sound of breathing and crunching gravel filled the room, and you shivered. This was the tape you had listened to with Seo Changbin — the tape that had turned your entire life upside down.

“I.N. here! It is currently...2:04 A.M.!”

You glanced at the faces around the room — everyone was on edge, and you felt no different. You could still hear Jeongin’s cry of surprise and pain echoing in your ears, the horrible crash as he hit the forest floor. What was Seungmin thinking? How was a recording of the witness being attacked going to prove Jisung’s innocence? If anything, it was incriminating evidence.

Jeongin’s cheery, oblivious voice continued until you heard the woman’s scream in the distance, muffled under the delivery boy’s distracted humming. Then, a man crying out in guttural pain — the man, you knew now, that had been killed by Jisung in the Yellow Wood. The sounds of leaves crunching and branches snapping under the bicycle wheels grew louder, and you knew that this had been the moment Jeongin had entered the Wood — heading closer and closer towards what would later become the scene of the crime.

“Hello? Is everything okay over there?” There was a small gasp of horror as Jeongin caught sight of the body. “U-um. Is he—do you need help? I can call an ambulance. What hap—”

It happened before you could flinch to cover your ears. The horribly familiar crunch of stone meeting skull, a cry of pain cut off by a deafening whump as the Walkman had slammed against the ground. The entire courtroom seemed to hold its breath as it listened, and only then did it finally hit you why Seungmin was playing the tapes. As the sound of another boy’s jagged, uneven breathing filled the speakers, you suddenly remembered what came at the end of the recording. The first time you had heard it, it had made your heart plummet straight down into the pit of your stomach, sending your entire world crashing down around you.

This time, the fluttering in your chest felt almost like hope.

Han Jisung’s voice, choked with raw, horrified sobs, echoed through the room, and you saw everyone freeze.

“Who—why? Why is it you? Why are you here?”

The crying was muffled by the sound of hands fumbling over Jeongin’s clothing, as if frantically checking for a pulse. Seungmin stopped the tape, turning towards the bewildered jury. “Do those sound like the words of a cold-blooded psychopath?”

The judge waved a hand towards Jeongin. “Can the witness himself attest to this?”

“I...I blacked out pretty quickly,” Jeongin answered slowly, furrowing his brow as if it still hurt to remember. “But the last thing I remembered seeing was...a boy’s crying face over me, trying to make sure if I was okay.”

“Can you identify this boy?”

Nodding, Jeongin pointed to Jisung.

“Furthermore,” Seungmin continued, tapping the cracked silver Walkman, “these tapes were found in Yang Jeongin’s clothing after he was admitted to the hospital. If the defendant had truly attacked Mr. Yang out of cold blood, he wouldn’t have left such incriminating evidence in the boy’s hands. And if Han Jisung had no idea he was being recorded, that rules out the possibility of him faking the recordings as well.”

“Even so,” the judge replied, stern eyes narrowed, “we cannot be sure that Han Jisung did not intend to leave Yang Jeongin to die. There are many murder cases where the perpetrator shows remorse almost immediately, but still attempted to cover up the crime.”

“Of course. However, Your Honour, you may also remember that Yang Jeongin was not found in the Yellow Wood where the attacks had initially taken place...but rather, the doorstep of Glow Cafe.” At this, Hyunjin looked up, eyes narrowed, and Seungmin motioned for the clerk to continue playing the clip. After several moments, you heard the rough sound of cloth scraping against the ground, growing louder and louder — as if something was being lifted and dragged.

No. You could still hear Jisung’s broken breathing underneath the sound, and the realisation hit you.

Jisung was carrying Jeongin’s body.

You had thought the tape had already ended the first time you’d listened with Seo Changbin in his record shop — after Jisung’s voice had made you shove the Walkman away, not daring to believe what you had just heard. For days, it had sat, neglected in your apartment, until you had brought it into Seungmin’s office for him to look at. The next day, it had already fallen into the hands of Prosecutor Kang, but by some stroke of luck, Seungmin must have already managed to listen to it in its entirety beforehand.

“Yang Jeongin was found at around 4 in the morning, when Hwang Hyunjin, the owner of Glow Cafe, was awoken by the doorbell. The ringer of this doorbell was never identified, because any possible fingerprint evidence was already contaminated and rendered useless by the time Mr. Yang was safely transported to the ICU.”

The sound of dead leaves and dirt crunching under the soles of Jisung’s shoes gave way to hard concrete as he reached the main road. There was a soft thump as Jeongin was lowered onto the ground, Jisung’s laboured breathing filling the still night air.

Then the familiar chime of Glow Cafe’s doorbell pierced through the speakers, and you watched as Hyunjin jolted up, mouth falling open in disbelief.

“Yes. It’s exactly what you’re all thinking.” Seungmin turned to face the stunned spectators as the sound of Jisung’s footsteps grew fainter as he ran away, and the tape ended. “The defendant was the same person who saved him.”

The judge cleared her throat unsteadily, grim eyes flickering between Seungmin and Jisung. “Does the defense have anything to say to this?”

For the first time since the trial had started, Jisung lifted his head. He was met with a roomful of mixed stares — apprehension, curiosity, fear — and he felt his tongue immediately dissolve into dust, the words sticking to his throat like congealed poison.

When Jisung stayed silent, Seungmin spoke carefully, “A fair trial wouldn’t be complete without hearing from the defendant himself. In his own words.” His eyes were almost gentle, fixing a steady look on Jisung’s dark, wary face. “Would you like to testify?”

Your heart was hammering in your throat as the silence grew thicker and thicker. After what felt like an eternity, it was finally broken by the creak of the chair as Jisung pushed it back and stood up. To your utter surprise, he stepped up to the middle of the room, wordlessly turning to face Seungmin. Still, the look on his face held the same blank, guarded expression you had seen so many times when your sessions with him had taken a turn for the worse, and you gripped the edge of your seat uneasily, having no idea what to expect from this turn of events.

If Seungmin was as surprised as you were, he did a better job at hiding it. He muttered something to the clerk, who began to project familiar faces and photos onto the screen. The victims, you realised, and the crime scenes. A slim woman in her thirties, her thin lips a smudge of bright red, next to a photo of charred blood and bone. The prostitute.

“Do you recognise this woman?” Seungmin asked, pointing to her picture.

Jisung frowned, furrowing his brow at the picture. Something seemed to stir in the back of his mind, but there was a dull throbbing in his temples that made it difficult to focus. “I—I’m not sure.”

Someone in the crowd made an unconvinced sound, and Jisung shrunk back. The pictures went on and on — a corpse mangled with chemical burns, a man’s body swinging from the rooftop, a bashed-in skull on the forest floor. Each image made Jisung’s head pound, the floor beginning to spin as if threatening to split open beneath his feet and swallow him whole. Did he recognise them? Glimpses of their faces flashed in the back of his mind like jumbled jigsaw pieces, but the more he tried to grab onto them, the more they fell apart. His fingertips tingled with the faint, itching memory of a stranger’s blood — strangers who, in a fleeting moment, had taken the shape of a former tormentor. Father. Mistress. Hurt. Pain.

“I can’t — remember anything,” Jisung choked hoarsely. He remembered blacking out, and waking up. He remembered his nightmares, his flashbacks. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember the faces staring back at him from the screen.

You sound insane, a voice in the back of his mind hissed. As he met the eyes of the jury, he could almost hear what they were thinking.

You really are a psychopath.

Sensing the doubtful whispering beginning around the room, Seungmin hurriedly moved onto the next question. “Let’s — let’s go back to the psychiatrist’s statements, then. Mr. Han, could you tell me what it was like growing up in your family?”

His question was met with silence again, Jisung screwing his eyes shut as the prosecutor’s voice echoed in his head. Family. It was a word that brought ugly memories bubbling to the surface every time, memories made of broken beer bottles and pale, bruised cheeks. His head was aching, a cold sweat forming in his palms as he clenched his fists, stomach churning. No. No. He couldn’t talk about it — wouldn’t talk about it —

“Can you...tell me about your mother’s eyes?”

The abrupt, familiar question, carried by the prosecutor’s softened voice, was what made Jisung open his eyes again, the trembling in his hands stilling. The room around them was shifting with confused murmurs at the strange question, but Seungmin didn’t break eye contact with the younger boy.

The prosecutor watched Jisung’s fists slowly unclench, brow furrowing slightly as he recognised the question, and Seungmin thought back to the conversation he had had with you over the phone after you had woken up in the hospital.

“What’s this?”

“A psychiatric analysis — on Jisung,” you explained, referring to the report files you had sent the prosecutor. “I know it’s not — not much, but...”

“For all we know, it might be the only existing verbal testimony that Jisung has,” Seungmin assured you. “From what I’ve heard, he’s never opened up to anyone before. What I meant was, why are you sending it to me?”

You bit your lip. “Chan isn’t allowed to stand trial, and I — I haven’t graduated yet, so my thesis won’t be taken seriously as evidence. I can’t testify as a psychiatric expert, either. But I thought that — I could at least tell you all the questions that lead me to his diagnosis. In case you get to question him at the trial — he’ll know they’re my questions. Maybe...he’ll finally change his mind.”

Seungmin sighed wearily. “I was removed from the case this morning, Miss l/n. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to step foot into the courtroom, let alone question him.”

And so the questions had been left, buried and forgotten in the back of Seungmin’s mind — until this exact moment, when he had remembered them just in time.

What comes to mind when you think about your mother’s eyes?

Jisung’s vision went black as his senses were flooded with memories, nearly sending him doubling over. His mother’s eyes. The last time he had looked into those eyes, they had already been glazing over, the life in them seeping away as her blood pooled over the broken floorboards of his childhood home. His mother’s eyes. Suddenly, it was as if he was ten years old all over again, shrouded in the shadows of a cramped closet as his father strangled the life out of his mother right in front of him.

Guilt, he wanted to say. Pain. The kind that never goes away. Blinking feverishly, Jisung’s gaze darted around the room — and when he finally found your face in the audience, he felt his heart stop.

You were looking at him with the exact same eyes his mother had, that day.

From your first date to this very moment, Jisung never knew why you had always reminded him so much of her — you two looked nothing alike, after all. Wherever he went, he had always been chased by fragments of the nightmares he wanted to forget, demons of his past that had taken the forms of the man at the Yellow Wood, the red-lipped hooker, Na Jangmin, Park Beomsoo. And yet every moment he spent with you, he caught familiar glimpses of her instead — pieces of the only warmth, and happiness, and home he had ever known before it had all been cruelly ripped away.

For years, the only thing he had been able to remember was that day. How his mother’s eyes had been wide and pleading as she bled out on the floor, desperately shaking her head at him before finally falling limp. The flames and endless smoke seemed to eat away at his happier memories until there was nothing left but ashes and tar.

But you made him remember a time before everything went wrong, when things had been peaceful, when he still had somewhere — someone — to go home to.

For thirteen years, he had been running from the memory, from the feeling, afraid that confronting it would make him relive the pain all over again. But now, for the first time, Han Jisung wondered if he had missed something else among those repressed memories all along.

His mother’s eyes as she shook her head one last time had been warm, not just because they had been filled with pain and tears — but because they had been blazing with one last, unspoken message. The same one he saw reflected in your own eyes now.

When you shook your own head gently, pleading eyes brimming with tears, the message finally rang clear in his mind.

Don’t blame yourself for what happened. Han Jisung, you have to keep on living.

Stunned, he tore his gaze away, only to see Bang Chan watching him with the same expression — then Woojin, Seungmin, Felix, Yang Jeongin. Even Hwang Hyunjin had worry written all over his face — worry for him — and it all suddenly hit Jisung like a punch in the gut.

Why did all these people fight for him?

Why had his mother died for him?

What comes to mind when you think about your mother’s eyes?

“Love,” Jisung breathed, his soft voice filling the empty silence. “Love.” The memories were coming back to him now — not in jagged, gut-wrenching flashes, but slowly. Steadily.

For the first time in his life, Han Jisung was in control.

“Can you tell me about your parents?” Seungmin pressed gently, seeing the tension slowly leave Jisung’s body.

“My parents,” Jisung repeated. His mouth felt like it was trying the words out. He remembered once, when you had asked him the same question, his head had felt like it was on the verge of splitting. Now, the memories felt strangely detached, as if he were telling someone else’s story. “They were happy once, or at least that’s what I’ve heard.” He paused. “My...father...never wanted to get married. They never planned to...have me, but my mother refused an abortion. They — it was a shotgun wedding,” Jisung finished quietly. “And then things got worse from there.”

“What was it like growing up in your family?” Seungmin tried the question again, watching Jisung carefully.

“My old man’s favourite thing to tell me growing up was how I was never wanted,” Jisung gave a weak smile. “I think you can imagine.”

You watched as Seungmin continued asking Jisung your questions, as if slowly coaxing the answers out from the darkness and painting the cold courtroom with the scenes of Jisung’s past.

“My mother was a waitress. The work was tough, but it didn’t pay much. My father convinced her to work more shifts, so that she was around as little as possible. During that time, he…” Jisung swallowed hard. “He had his affairs with other women when she wasn’t home, and beat her bloody when she was. She always tried to hide it from me, too — said the less I knew the better, but I was getting older, and my father’s anger was slowly shifting over to me. And when his...mistresses stayed over, they started noticing me, too.” Jisung fell silent then, and you suddenly thought back to the white burn scars on his arms and legs, the numerous unexplained markings on his stomach bringing tears to your eyes. How many more did he have hidden on his body, painful reminders binding him to a past he tried so hard to forget?

“Your Honour,” Seungmin finally broke the hushed silence, “with all the information taken into consideration, I think we can confirm beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant has witnessed numerous traumatic events during his childhood — and that they more than likely worsened his mental condition as he grew older.” Seungmin turned to Jisung, remembering another question you had written in your report. “How...do you cope with the past?”

Jisung was silent for several moments before answering, his words echoing your last therapy session. “I...don’t….like to think about it, or remember it. Every time I do, I…” he trailed off unsteadily, and he tried again. “E-every time, I...I…”

His throat was closing up again, the words echoing in his mind as if mocking him. How was he supposed to explain the headaches that never truly went away, the dizziness that hit him like a punch in the gut? Or, worse, the gaps in his memories when he blacked out, making him feel as though he were slowly going insane?

Stay silent, whispered a voice in the back of his head. Who will understand you? Who will believe you? He looked back at the roomful of faces, their cold, wary stares piercing through him like knives. You were never meant to live. You should have died on that day, thirteen years ago—

“Han Jisung, you are such an idiot.”

The sudden memory of your voice cut through his thoughts and made him jolt in surprise— but it didn’t stop there, all the things you had once told him slowly growing louder and louder and jarring him awake from his own thoughts.

“You’re not the psychopath they’re making you out to be. I know you.”

He remembered the way you had relaxed and fallen asleep in his arms, even after you had found out they were stained with blood, because you trusted him completely.

“I don’t want you to show me. I want you to tell me. I want to hear it from you, in your own words, Jisung.”

He remembered your face every time he had tried to tell you about his past — your soft, patient eyes and gentle voice, the worry and genuine concern on your face that he had always mistaken for repulsion and fear. You had been shaken, definitely, terrified, even — but you had always been willing to listen to him speak, even when Jisung had been too afraid to try.

“I like you, Han Jisung. I. Like. You.”

He met your eyes across the room then, and felt a small, incredulous breath leave his lips. It was you — it was always you, who had the power to make the walls he had built around himself crumble to dust with a single touch; you, pulling him out of the darkness he had always succumbed helplessly to; you, who had finally woken him from the living nightmare he had been trapped in his entire life.

You reminded him what it was like to live again. You made him want to live again, without fears, without regrets.

“Mr. Han? Could you please describe how these memories make you feel? How you usually deal with them?”

“I don’t know how to,” Jisung breathed out at last. “Every time I try to remember, my...heart starts racing like my chest is about to burst. My head pounds until I can’t see anything, and — it’s like something in there...snaps. And then I...black out completely.”

Seungmin nodded, glancing back to the nervous, red-faced man. “Do you have...anything to add or deny regarding the psychiatrist’s diagnoses?”

“You were right,” Jisung replied simply, but he wasn’t talking to the psychiatrist. He was looking straight at you, and to his own surprise, a smile tugged at his dry lips. It felt like the simple sentence had somehow set him free. “I have trouble sleeping, because I always end up having the same nightmares. There’s missing blank spots in my memories when I wake up in a place I don’t recognise, with no idea how I got there.”

Jisung watched as your eyes widened, recognising his words — he was echoing the same symptoms you had confronted him about during your last therapy session, the ones he had coldly denied out of panic and fear. “I’ve always been afraid to let people get close to me. But sometimes, there are things that — that remind me of times that I’d rather forget, and before I know it, everything begins to spiral out of control.” He gave a small smile to Seungmin, who had stayed silent, surprised at Jisung’s sudden honesty. “That’s it, then. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

You watched as Jisung’s eyes flickered around the room, face as open and tranquil as a child’s — and that was what nearly broke your heart. Knowing that somewhere, beneath the prison uniform that was too baggy for his lean, tired frame, was the shell of a child the world had failed, a child that had given up asking to be saved.

“No further questions,” Seungmin said quietly, and Jisung walked back to his seat as the young prosecutor turned to face the judge. “Your Honour,” he began slowly, as if momentarily unable to find the words. “I think we have reason to believe that the attacks were provoked — not exactly by the victims themselves, but from past traumas that were never dealt with properly, and triggered again and again until they spiralled out of control.”

Seungmin raised his voice then, for the entire courtroom to hear, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the fluttering nerves in his body. “The scattered killing patterns were never planned. The correlations between the victims and causes of death don’t show a serial killer’s M.O., they show triggers.” He took a shaky breath.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this isn’t a serial killer case. It isn’t the case of a psychopath on some nonsensical, murderous rampage. This is the aftereffect of a domestic violence case gone cold and swept under the rug over a decade ago — and we can’t afford to let it slip away again.”

The judge fixed Seungmin with a cold, steely look over her glasses. “Prosecutor Kim. Remember that you cannot — should not — let your emotions get in the way in a court of law. You are supposed to assess the case with cold reasoning and logic.”

Seungmin looked down, heart hammering in his throat. The Kim Seungmin he knew would have been ashamed, and apologised immediately. The Kim Seungmin he knew would have thought he was crazy for crossing the line.

He realised, in that moment, that he hated the old Kim Seungmin with a passion.

“Emotions don’t always get in the way,” he found himself saying, eyes flickering to you in the audience, “and they don’t always make you weak.” Seungmin thought of Prosecutor Kang then, and his voice grew stronger. “If anything, they keep you human.”

He looked back up at the judge now, whose face had frozen in surprise. “When did justice become so cold? We’re taught that the law is supposed to protect the vulnerable, not prosecute them.”

The judge looked visibly shaken, mouth opening and closing wordlessly as her eyes darted wildly between Seungmin and Jisung. Finally, with an unfathomable expression on her face, she turned towards the jury, clearing her throat unsteadily.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that concludes the evidence to be presented on this case. You are now to deliberate, and determine whether or not Han Jisung is guilty of nineteen counts of first-degree murder, assault, and arson.

“If you believe that this has been proved beyond a reasonable doubt, then you should find the defendant guilty, and eligible for capital punishment.”

Capital punishment, you thought, the words sweeping a breath of cold across the room. The death penalty.

“The court stands adjourned until the verdict of the jury.”

━━━━━━━━

Over an hour had passed since the jury had stepped into the deliberation suite, and each tick of the clock on the wall made you more and more nauseous. You put your head down, hands buried in your hair as if that could calm the anxiety thrumming through your veins. A few times, you had heard shouting and angry, raised voices coming from the room the jury was in. Each passing minute seemed to make the weight of the situation more obvious, the tension in the courtroom thick and suffocating.

Felix was rubbing your back as soothingly as he could. “y/n, hey, look at me — deep breaths, okay? You’re okay—”

He was cut off when you lifted your head to look at him, cursing the tears already welling in your eyes. You hated feeling this way — you felt so weak and powerless, and just imagining how much of a mess you must have looked made it even worse. You promised yourself you would stay calm, but every thought that crossed your mind kept leading to another until you were exhausted and overwhelmed.

“They could walk out any minute, ‘lix,” you told him, voice wavering as the weight of your own words sunk in. “They could walk out any minute, and end his life.”

You couldn’t even say Jisung’s name out loud, let alone look him in the eyes. Felix watched as you wiped furiously at your own tears, the sight of you so distressed rendering him speechless, and he did the only thing he could think of. Grimly, your best friend pulled you into a hug, and his reassuring warmth in the cold courtroom made you want to break down all over again. Around you, you could hear mixed opinions being exchanged.

“That poor boy.”

“Who could have guessed the case would take a turn like this? But do you believe him?”

“A murderer is still a murderer — he’s too dangerous to be left alive, don’t you think?”

You were beginning to wish you had taken Hyunjin and Woojin’s offer to step out of the room for fresh air when the heavy doors swung open, making a hush fall over the room. The jury filed in just as Hyunjin and the police captain returned and took their seats.

“Order in the court,” the clerk called, and the judge cleared her throat.

“Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?”

The forewoman nodded grimly. “Yes, Your Honour.”

“Those in favour of sentencing the accused, Han Jisung, to capital punishment, please rise.”

The words sent an icy shock down your spine, the entire room seeming to hold its breath as they watched the jury. You didn’t dare move, as if by doing so, you could prevent the next moments from coming crashing down on you, as if somehow, you could stop the horrible verdict from coming true. It was as if everyone had frozen still, time stopping for what felt like the longest moment of your life.

The ticking of the clock pricked your ears, and you suddenly realised that time hadn’t stopped.

No one in the jury had moved to stand up.

“The jury returns a verdict of not guilty, despite believing that the accused committed the crimes he is charged with,” the forewoman standing at the front of the jury said, and the members behind her nodded. “This verdict was unanimous.”

“They all agree that Jisung killed those people,” you heard Hyunjin’s stunned voice behind you, “but they’re returning a verdict of not guilty? What does that mean?”

“Jury nullification,” both Chan and Seungmin spoke at the same time, and the room turned to look at the younger prosecutor as he spoke up.

“The jury has the right to overturn the law, if they believe the law was used incorrectly—”

A reporter behind you blurted out angrily, “Are you suggesting that the murders were delusional, Prosecutor Kim?”

“Or,” Seungmin continued, his voice growing stronger than ever before as he saw the eyes of the judge and his coworkers widen in disbelief. I must be insane, he thought, but he couldn’t stop the words coming from his mouth. “Or, the jury disagrees with the law the prosecution has chosen to charge the defendant under.” He picked up Prosecutor Kang’s case file from the desk, flipping over the papers. “First degree murder.”

The forewoman nodded. “The law Han Jisung is being tried with was immorally and wrongly applied to him in the first place. We believe he caused the killings, without a doubt, but with the circumstances presented, we cannot convict him of serial first degree murder.”

“The previous prosecutor claimed these charges without making any effort to consider Han Jisung’s past,” one man on the jury added, “All the evidence proves a history of abuse and trauma that lead to an unstable mental condition.”

Their words sounded strangely familiar, and your eyes immediately widened when you realised why. “Those — those are the words from my psych report,” you whispered breathlessly to Felix, “Quoted, word for word. They must have all read your articles — we did it, ‘lix, it really worked.”

“But murder is murder. He should be held accountable,” a spectator protested across the room. He was immediately silenced by the bailiff, but not before Seungmin turned to him with a steady stare.

“‘Murder is murder’,” Seungmin echoed, “‘The world of law is cold.’ ‘The law is harsh, but it is the law.’ Those are the phrases you always hear in court. And those are the same beliefs that cost vulnerable people their lives.”

Hyunjin looked at Jeongin, whose gaze were cast to the floor, eyes stormy.

Seungmin continued, “You lose your empathy, and mark complex cases like these under ‘mass murderer’, or ‘psychopath’ without bothering to truly investigate the gray areas, because you think doing so would be—” his mind flashed to Kang, “a waste of time.” He looked at Jisung now, a boy who had been confined by labels his entire life: problem child, delinquent, murderer, monster. “Han Jisung is worth more than that. There’s more to him than his past, than his abusers, than the mental torment he’s suffered through for years.

“He’s a boy who never got the chance at life he deserved. The system has failed him once, and we cannot — should not — hold his trial like this.” Seungmin turned to the judge one last time, eyes burning with sincerity. “Your Honour. Will you end this vicious cycle of use and abuse, once and for all? Or will you choose, once again, to sweep it back into the shadows?”

She was staring back at him with a look that should have petrified Seungmin on the spot, but he swallowed hard, forcing himself to stand his ground. There was a long, weighted silence. Finally, the judge shook her head slowly, and Seungmin swore he saw the smallest of smiles tug at her taut mouth as she turned to face the rest of the courtroom.

You felt your heart nearly leap out of your throat when the verdict finally fell from the judge’s lips.

“I hereby pronounce Han Jisung...not guilty.”

If you hadn’t been sitting down, you were sure you would have collapsed onto the floor.

The world was spinning around you, the sheer relief washing over you in overwhelming waves and turning your limbs to jelly. In your peripheral vision, you saw Hyunjin’s mouth drop open in astonishment, Felix turning to you with an incredulous smile on his face, Chan and Woojin completely frozen.

You barely registered the judge’s voice as she continued speaking, the rest of her words passing through you as if you were made of thin air. Pardoned on the death of his father and the arson of his childhood home by reason of self-defense. Regarding the Miroh Heights killings, the defendant was unable to understand the significance of his criminal actions due to a pre-existing mental condition. He is acquitted from the death penalty, and will serve no prison time.

However, he will be transferred to a psychiatric institution and closely monitored for the time being. The suitable amount of time he is to spend there will be prescribed on a later date after the case is properly re-examined...

People were talking around you, one of your friends was calling your name, and you swore you even heard a few people clapping, but you weren’t listening anymore. There was only one other person on your mind.

When your eyes found Jisung’s face, he was looking straight at you — with the same look in his eyes that had given you butterflies the first time you met him, and the same look in his eyes you had seen before you had fallen unconscious, bleeding out in his arms.

He was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

━━━━━━━━

“You had some nerve back there, Prosecutor Kim.”

The courtroom had been emptied out, and Seungmin had been collecting his files and notes when he heard a voice from behind him. At first, he thought he had misheard — people were buzzing outside in the lobby, the commotion so loud it seemed to be humming through the walls — but he turned around, and saw the judge walking up to him.

Bits and pieces of the trial came back to him, and Seungmin cringed inwardly as he met her hard gaze. Just how many lines had he crossed? Years of being careful, meticulous, completely down the drain—

“You had some nerve back there,” she repeated, and Seungmin lowered his eyes. He heard her sigh deeply. “But you’re a fine prosecutor, Kim.”

Stunned, Seungmin raised his head, and realised with a start that she was smiling at him. “I haven’t seen your kind in a while. It was refreshing, to say the least, and it puts me at ease to know that this field still has people like you.”

She tucked her glasses into her robes, turning to leave.

“Never change, Prosecutor Kim.”

━━━━━━━━

“Prosecutor Kang, look this way!”

Kang was blinded by flashing cameras the moment he stepped out from the holding cell. The older prosecutor’s eyes were dark as he was pushed through the mob of reporters and citizens, the guards flanking him making no effort to be gentle.

“Is it true you hid crucial evidence from your own prosecution?”

“Did you bribe your own witnesses?”

“How many other cases have you tampered with?”

“None!” Kang snarled at the reporter, desperation rising in his throat like bile. “Lies—I’ve never wrongfully convicted a single person. These are all—”

“You’re the liar.”

The crowd stopped, turning towards the voice that had shouted over them. Yang Jeongin was standing at the end of the hallway, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Just the sight of Kang was enough to make him tremble like a young child again, words stuck momentarily in his throat. This was the same man he had met in court all those years ago, the man who had mercilessly delivered his father’s life sentence with a snakelike smile on his pale lips. Taking a shaky breath, Jeongin mustered up his courage, and ran up to him.

“Please stop this already,” Jeongin pleaded, eyes searching Kang’s bewildered face for signs of guilt, remorse, anything. Kang didn’t seem to recognise him, and the young boy’s voice was breaking as he fought back tears. “Please tell the truth, just this once. I-I don’t know why you’re doing this, but—it doesn’t have to be this way—”

There was a gasp as a few reporters stumbled, and the crowd rippled forward. Kang was knocked off-balance, tumbling to the ground. He cursed, fumbling to get back on his feet — and saw a hand, outstretched towards him from a hoodie sleeve that was clearly too large for its owner. He looked up into the young boy’s face again, his fox-like eyes widened in concern, and finally realised with a jolt who he was talking to.

Nearly a decade ago, Kang thought — an old fool who had picked a fight with high-ranking company officials, no? And then the crackpot had pleaded with Kang, saying something about a son he had to take care of — a young boy—

Jeongin put his hand on Kang’s arm when the prosecutor didn’t move, and pulled him up. “Mr. Kang, my father—”

Feeling a sudden rage surge through his body, Kang drew his fist back and punched the boy across his jaw.

Jeongin crumpled to the ground, the side of his face already blooming with red. “You brat,” Kang seethed as cries of horror erupted from the crowd, guards seizing him and trying to pull him away. “What do you understand? Han Jisung, your old man — people like them don’t deserve to walk free.”

You had just stepped out of the courtroom when a commotion in the hallway had made you look over, the scene that had greeted your eyes making you freeze. Jeongin had been clutching Prosecutor Kang’s arm, looking up at the older man imploringly — and his expression had been genuinely kind, almost pitying, his mouth opening and closing frantically as though he were pleading with him. You had shaken your head in disbelief, trying to push through the throng of shocked citizens — only Yang Jeongin’s heart was big enough to look his parents’ tormentor in the eyes, and help him.

Then Kang had suddenly struck Jeongin, and now the delivery boy was curling up in pain on the ground as the prosecutor screamed at him.

“They were foolish enough — depraved enough — to violate those laws, and I charged them with what they deserved. It’s as simple as—”

The next thing you knew, you were in front of Kang, palm outstretched, and you had slapped him hard across the face.

The entire crowd fell dead silent, Jeongin looking up at you from the floor in dazed disbelief. Even Kang was speechless as he looked back at you, holding his jaw, eyes about to pop out of their sockets.

“It seems like you know everything about law, Prosecutor Kang,” you said, voice shaking with anger, “but you know nothing about being human.”

Kang opened his mouth, but for once, nothing came out. The hallway was erupting in chaos again as cameras clicked and flashed eagerly. The guards began to drag Kang away before it could get more hectic, your last glimpses of the corrupt prosecutor disappearing behind the reporters’ bobbing heads. As you helped Jeongin up, checking his head worriedly, you felt a hand pull at your own arm. You turned to see Hyunjin, and judging by the look on his face, he had seen everything.

“Is this just going to be a thing now?” The barista asked, side-eyeing you wearily as he held onto Jeongin protectively, “Are you just going to start slapping everyone who crosses you?”

“Maybe,” you muttered mutinously. “It’s faster, and less emotionally draining than negotiating.”

“You’re studying to be a therapist, y/n,” Hyunjin reminded you exasperatedly, and you let out a small laugh, pouting slightly. The barista smiled too, despite himself, and you both looked over at Jeongin. The boy’s eyes were staring over the crowd’s heads, through the lobby doors, and you realised he was watching the officers push Kang into the police cruiser — the man who had ruined his parents’ lives, finally handcuffed and headed where he was supposed to be.

You turned around, and caught sight of another familiar face further down the hallway, standing perfectly still despite the crowd of people rushing past around him.

Lee Minho’s face was turned away from you, his catlike eyes staring at something with the same, unfathomable expression you had come to grow so accustomed to. You remembered how you had once been afraid of the coroner and his strange, standoffish manner, but now, as you watched him from afar, you felt a small pang of sympathy. Minho always carried himself like a ghost, you realised — a shadow lingering in the corners of rooms and corridors, unsure if he was ever wanted.

You quickly excused yourself from Hyunjin and Jeongin and you began to push through the crowd towards the coroner. As you followed his gaze to the holding cell doors, they suddenly swung open, and Jisung stepped out into the hallway. Your steps slowed. The two stood facing each other for several long moments — two childhood friends, two lost children who had found their only sense of family — twisted though it had been — in each other. Minho’s face was hesitant, as if about to turn away, but Jisung had already begun walking up to him. You were too far away to hear what they were saying, Jisung’s back turned to you and Minho awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other.

Then Jisung suddenly closed the gap between the two of them, and pulled Minho into a hug.

You watched as the ex-coroner’s mask finally shattered, the older boy’s face scrunching up like a child’s as he buried his head in Jisung’s shoulder. His entire body shook with silent sobs, as if something in him had finally been let go, a burden he had carried his entire life lifted off his chest.

Eventually, the guards stepped forward, and Minho pulled away. He looked at Jisung with a small smile on his face — the first genuine smile you had ever seen from him — and you managed to catch the words forming on his lips.

“Goodbye, Han Jisung.”

“He’ll probably need to go through a trial of his own.” Chan’s voice made you jump in surprise. He had come up beside you while you had been distracted, Felix and Woojin close behind him. He nodded at you by way of greeting before turning back to where Jisung was standing. “The coroner, I mean. But he’ll likely get around five years in prison, more or less.”

You watched as Minho was ushered away into another corridor, Jisung staring at the empty spot where he had once stood. Before you could reply, he turned around, eyes landing on yours — and all of a sudden, you forgot about the security guards flanking every doorway, the law officials and reporters brushing briskly past you. For a moment, it was as if it were only you and Jisung in the hallway, the entire world standing still around the two of you.

Since the last time you had spoken to him had ended with you slapping him in the face, you decided that it was only right for you to take the first step towards him. Slowly, feeling as if you were in a dream, you made your way towards him, Jisung walking the rest of the way to meet you in the middle.

“Hey, you.” Jisung’s voice was soft, nearly inaudible, not taking his hazel eyes off yours.

You heard Chan chuckle behind you, shaking his head as he threw his arms around Felix and Woojin’s shoulders to steer them away and leave you two in private. The hallways had nearly cleared out, and for the first time in what felt like forever — if you ignored the guards watching a little ways off from the holding cells — you and Jisung were alone together.

There were a thousand things racing through your mind right now, but you couldn’t seem to find the right words to say.

“Five years,” Jisung tentatively broke the silence again, and when you looked back at him in confusion, he continued, “in the psychiatric institute. They told me five years minimum, on watch. But I heard...it’s a nice place.”

His lopsided, sheepish smile was as infectious as ever, making one tug at your own lips. When Jisung saw you smile, he relaxed just the tiniest amount.

“Y-you’re going to be okay?” You finally asked, feeling your voice waver.

Jisung’s gaze softened, nodding. “You saved me.”

“No.” You shook your head firmly. You knew he was talking about Seungmin’s arguments, Jeongin’s witness statements, the article you and Felix had published — but it all might have been for nothing, you thought, mind flashing back to the courtroom, if Jisung hadn’t finally stepped up from his chair and faced his lifelong traumas in the form of one last, truthful testimony. “Han Jisung, you saved yourself.”

He fell silent at that, and you saw his hand instinctively move towards yours for a split second before he quickly stopped himself. Jisung’s arms were floating by his sides, as if wanting to pull you close, but he was holding himself back. He was afraid, you finally realised — afraid that you would push him away, afraid to ever hurt you again. And for some, inexplicable reason, the idea of a rift between the two of you that could never be repaired seemed to hurt even more than a switchblade to the heart.

“For some reason, I’ve been thinking back to our first date,” Jisung cleared his throat, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He probably looked like a nervous schoolboy in front of his first love, Jisung thought, cringing at himself as he looked away from your curious gaze. Well, he added as an afterthought, that wouldn’t be too far off.

You were his first love, after all.

“I...I didn’t know how you felt that day,” Jisung continued, “or even the days after that, to be honest. I didn’t know if I was doing things right, or—”

“You took my breath away,” you cut him off, the honesty in your own words making your cheeks heat up. You thought back to the diner, to the blond boy who had rendered you speechless with a single heart-shaped smile. As an afterthought, you brought a hand to your rib cage, where a switchblade in that same boy’s hands had once punctured through your lungs, and you deadpanned, “literally.”

Eyebrows raising in disbelief, Jisung gave an incredulous laugh, but his gaze was fixed on the site of your wound. You could still see the deep guilt in his eyes, and, taking a deep breath, you reached for his hand, gingerly placing it where the knife had been. His skin was cool against your fingers, palm rough but familiar. “I’m okay, Jisung. It’s okay. But...why bring that up, all of a sudden?”

“I feel like that now,” he admitted softly, “the same feeling, but with a whole new set of butterflies. Always thinking about you, worrying about you. Wondering how you feel about…”

“Us,” you finished for him, and Jisung nodded slowly. Us. The word hung between the two of you for a long moment, and you took a shaky breath. A part of you wanted to reassure him, to pull him into your arms as if nothing had ever changed. But another part of you pushed that feeling away, knowing deep down that it was too late, that too much had already happened between the two of you to just ignore.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully, and you looked down, afraid to see the expression on his face. “I woke up that morning, and you were just...gone. I was so scared for you, I went looking for you...then one thing lead to another, and before we all knew it, the world had turned upside down. I-it might sound selfish, but after all...this, I think I’m going to need some...time.” You finally lifted your eyes up to his face, heart pounding. For a terrifying second, you thought you saw a flash of pain skip across Jisung’s pupils — but before you could be sure, his face broke into a relieved smile.

“You’ve always been like this, you know?” He sighed, one hand reaching up to gently tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. Then, contrary to what you had expected, Jisung visibly relaxed. “Worrying about other people before taking care of yourself. You’re not being selfish, okay? Don’t...worry about hurting me anymore.”

You stared at him, the genuine warmth in his words suddenly making your throat close up with stunned tears. Jisung’s eyes, you remembered, had always seemed glazed over and unfocused — as if his mind was trapped somewhere else, far, far away. But as he looked back at you now, you were suddenly hit by how...clear they had become. He was here, perfectly focused on you, eyes filled with what you could only describe as pure adoration.

“I need time, too,” Jisung continued quickly, “I have...so many things I need to fix, to work on, and get better at—”

You shook your head furiously then, tears spilling onto your cheeks as you held onto his wrist. “W-want to love every part of you,” you whispered, forcing your voice to remain steady. “Don’t...don’t hide any parts of yourself, ever again. Okay?”

Jisung watched you for a long moment, brow furrowed as he gingerly wiped your tears, and finally gave a small nod. He cradled your face in his hands, eyes trying to memorise your features as though you were the most beautiful thing he would ever see. To someone else, you thought vaguely, you might have looked insane. A killer’s hands, they might have said, bloodstained hands. But as you gazed up at Jisung, all you saw was a boy who had gone through hell and came back smiling, a boy who loved you more than life itself.

You heard footsteps approaching, and looked up to see several security guards making their way towards Jisung. “Mr. Han,” one called gruffly, “it’s time to go.”

The sudden interruption made your mind go blank momentarily as any reasonable words — goodbye, take care — immediately dissolved on your tongue. The guards were getting closer and closer, and Jisung turned back to you, stammering.

“If you ever want to—to do this whole...love thing again, start over properly, I—I promise I’ll try not to screw it up. I mean, if you’re sure—and only if you’re sure,” he paused then, sounding suddenly flustered, and for a second, he was your tousled-hair, golden boy from the diner again, soft cheeks flushed like windblown peach roses, eyes unsure yet hopeful as a child’s. This was the boy you had fallen in love with, over blueberry pancakes and Chinese takeout, on seemingly endless nights and through the darkest thunderstorms. Ever since you had made that promise, in a children’s playground beneath the setting sun, you knew that somehow, no matter what fate had left in store, you would always find your way back to him.

Jisung was already being ushered away, the sudden absence of his touch on your skin leaving you feeling empty — but his last words brought a smile to your tearstained face.

“...I’ll be waiting.”

ryu says:

thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who made it to the end of this series; to everyone who came on this long journey with me, you made it possible and amazing every step of the way. at times, as my first ever series and long-term project, it was both daunting and terrifying, but i am beyond happy and honoured i could experience it with you.

i’ll see you in the epilogue.

953 notes · View notes

transmascfrankiero · 5 years ago

Text

all of mcr’s songs ranked out of ten based on whether or not you can strip to them:

romance: could work if you were going for a Super Melancholy smiths-esque vibe but overall too slow and pretty. 1/10

honey: headbanger soundtrack to showcase your revenge body to ur ex. bonus points for underlying ‘gonna murder shitty boyfriend’ context thanks to audition-inspired video. but slightly too angry to be seductive. 5/10

vampires: too goth, too many feelings. reminds me of pot dreads frank. would not work. 0/10

drowning lessons: this song is cursed and cannot be listened to in public unfortunately 0/10

sorrows: if u were going to do a strip routine while beating the shit out of someone for trying to stealing ur tip money this would be a gr8 choice 6/10

halos: it’s about blowing your own head off and taking too many pills to cope w/ wanting to die all the time. 0/10

turnstiles: please do not!!! strip!!! to a song!!! about 9/11!!!! what is wrong w/ you!!! -100000000/10

monroeville: if u were doing a private lil strip dance for your george a. romero-obsessed s.o. where u both cry over the idea of having to kill the other person b/c they turned into a zombie then sure??? but other than that no. .5/10

best day ever: ehhhhhh. too fast. kinda weird to get sexy to unless u have a hospital kink. 0/10

cubicles: wow the thought of doing a strip routine to a song about pining for ur coworker who doesn’t know u exist is too sad to even joke about -20/10

demolition lovers: it’s a long song but it’s got cool tempo changes for variety and if u got the stamina then go for it. 4/10

helena: so, like, i get it. it’s a bop. u could dance to this beat for sure. the costumes and color scheme from the video make for gr8 stage pictures and the dancing corpse lady is v pretty. i could understand why if u were doing an emo strip routine u would want to use helena. but please for the love of all that is holy do NOT strip to a song gerard way wrote about his dead grandmother okay i am BEGGING you -∞/10

give ‘em hell kid: FUCK YEAH YOU LOOK PRETTY WALKIN DOWN THE STREET IN THE BEST DAMN DRESS U OWN. 10/10

to the end: this would be a hilarious choice for a bachelor party ngl 7/10 for that alone

prison: absolutely you could strip to this song but u gotta COMMIT okay u gotta light something on fire onstage and challenge gender norms while screaming your head off 8/10 but only if ur not a coward

i’m not okay: it’s a bop, but can u strip to it? no. 0/10

ghost of you: mikey way did not die on a beach in fake normandy for u to strip to ghost of you. seek help -5/10

jetset life: dude this song like. actually works??? for a strip routine??? so long as you don’t actually listen to the words, from a musical perspective, u could totally strip to this 10/10

interlude: what kinda weird catholic shame kink do u need to have to strip to this song. also it’s too short and too pretty. -5/10 (unless ur into catholic shame idk)

venom: this would require such a high energy routine but if u can make being sweaty work then this is a gr8 choice 7/10

hang ‘em high: this is a BATSHIT INSANE choice for a strip routine but if u want to do it then PLEASE do. i like ur style. 8/10

deathwish: u can strip to this only if u introduce ur routine by dedicating it to everyone who ever said eyeliner on dudes was gay. 5/10

cemetery drive: i think not. 0/10

never told you: if u are a highly theatrical highly murderous stripper then yes definitely 7/10

desert song: this song is Way Too Beautiful to strip to sorry you can’t have it -300/10

the end.: the only sexy thing about this song is how good gerard’s voice sounds so no. 0/10

dead!: this is a bold fucking choice but u have to play your cards just right. high risk high reward but SO much to potentially get wrong 6/10

how i disappear: u could. but why. 2/10

sharpest lives: holy SHIT yes ABSOLUTELY u should strip to sharpest lives. the drama. the beat. the spy rock guitar that frank accidentally nailed. this is one of THE choicest options from their catalog. why aren’t u stripping to this right now 50000000/10

wttbp: cute idea but don’t actually 0/10

i don’t love you: again, a bold fucking choice. u could strip to this in an edgy, meta sort of way but it’s missing the trashy factor so it’d have to be part performance art and part strip routine. if ur into that then totally 5/10

house of wolves: i mean i would pay money to see someone strip to this song so 7/10

cancer: LMAO YIKES -2000000/10

mama: this would be GLORIOUS if u fully embraced the sheer insanity and went Bonkers in Fuckin Zonkers burlesque-show-in-hell w/ it. 100/10 but u gotta pound the floor wailing at some point

sleep: i’m conflicted on this one like on the one hand it’s a good tempo for stripping but on the other hand it’s a song about being cruel to ur loved ones in order to force distance between u and them b/c you’re terrified of them getting hurt and it being all your fault. so maybe don’t strip to this one actually 0/10

teenagers: a bop w/ a great beat and fun costume ideas from the video but two major drawbacks being 1. ur getting naked to a song about teenagers which is uhhhh sort of Inappropriate and 2. it’s kind of also about school shooters which is also Inappropriate to get naked to. 0/10

disenchanted: why would u want this. you sad fuck. idek what to say except if you want to strip to this song i’m crying on your behalf -100000000/10

famous last words: don’t????? don’t. Do Not. stop that. -12/10

blood: this is HILARIOUS omg please strip to blood 10/10

kill all your friends: sure?? no objections but it’s an odd choice. this goes for the demo too. 2/10

heaven help us: if u want to strip to this then you definitely just read unholyverse for the first time and while u are valid, Don’t 0/10

my way home is through you: not an especially sexy song but it’s fun!! you do you 3/10

astro zombies (cover): uhhhhhh it’s a no from me dawg. i’d be thinking about danzig, like, the whole time. 0/10

desolation row: sure but u gotta be willing to get punched in the face by the riot squad for maximum effect 4/10

common people (cover): just b/c gerard would strip to britpop doesn’t mean u can. 0/10

emily: NO!!!! -50000/10

party at the end of the world: nah. 0/10

not that kind of girl: literally please consider the subject matter of this song and rethink ur life choices. -10/10

all the angels: it’s a cool song but don’t strip to it that’s weird -2/10

jack the ripper: you and the person who wants to strip to astro zombies can go sit in the suicidegirls corner together how about that. 0/10

na na na: a banger!! strip away my friend 9/10

bulletproof heart: a good song but not a strip song 1/10

sing: sorry this song is [REDACTED] it gets no score

planetary (go!): you could try to strip to this but it’s such a classic four-on-the-floor that i think you’d end up just regular dancing to it and forget to be sexy so 4/10

the only hope for me is you: are you doing a strip tease for michael bay. stop. put ur shirt back on shia lebeouf 0/10

party poison: like this is a hilarious option and i support you but realistically it’s pretty fast for a strip song 3/10

save yourself, i’ll hold them back: this is a safe option. Too Safe. almost soulless. a person who’d strip to this would avoid eye contact the entire time and never smile and later when you went out for a smoke break you’d overhear them on the phone with their ex arguing over child support payments. 4/10

s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w: the more i think about it the more fun the idea of stripping to this becomes so i say go for it 6/10

summertime: i’m Certain that gerard would prefer if you didn’t -5/10

destroya: is this objectively the best mcr song to strip to? Absolutely. it’s got everything you could possibly want right down to built-in moans and fever dream drums. but the only person in the universe who Can Must and Should strip to this song is gerard. sorry them’s the breaks. ∞/10 but only if you’re gerard way

kids from yesterday: don’t. 0/10

vampire money: 100% yes you should strip to this. bonus points for stealth twilight references 1000000/10

we don’t need another song about california: do i like this song? yes. is it sexy? no. 0/10

black dragon fighting society: i can’t understand what the FUCK gerard is saying in this song AT ALL so i can’t recommend that u strip to it b/c i have no fucking idea what it’s ABOUT 0/10

f.t.w.w.w.: i mean. this song is about eating pussy. and robots that are built specifically to fuck. so yes you can strip to this but you gotta dress up like a pornbot 100/10

mastas of ravencroft: again i cannot understand most of the fucking words and the ones i do understand are something something RICKETY BONES RICKETY HANDS so like. probably not the one 0/10

boy division: i could go either way on this one like it’s really fast but it’s also about cocaine so??? 3/10

tomorrow’s money: while this song slaps overall violent nihilism does not a strip song make 1/10

ambulance: no. 0/10

gun.: antiwar messages are sexy but not the right kind for stripping 1/10

the world is ugly: PLEASE no. 0/10

the light behind your eyes: oh my god this is so DEPRESSING why would you want to strip to this who hurt you -2000000/10

kiss the ring: yes yes yes it’s got built-in audience participation conceit factor if u let ur audience kiss ur ring, totally works 10/10

make room!!!: again, slaps, but not a strip song 1/10

surrender the night: dude we talked about this!!! dying violently w/ ur loved ones is Not Sexy!!! 0/10

burn bright: i guess you could strip to this but again it’s Too Safe tread carefully 3/10

fake your death: i want frank iero to strip to this song so i can throw tomatoes at him for being a LYING SACK OF SHIT FOR TWO YEARS i’m not gonna rate this one but frank if ur out there i have a basket of slightly squishy heirloom tomatoes and i am COMING FOR YOU

#mcr #this is the dumb post idea #i spent like an hour on this lmao

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makeste · 4 years ago

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What are your favorite hero names?

oh man there are so many. I had to limit myself to a top twenty, and even that was rough. anyway so first off, a few runner ups because I couldn’t go without mentioning these:

Vlad King - to be clear, this isn’t actually one of my top hero names. but I’m mentioning it here because back when I was first reading the series, one of the fan scanlations -- either Fallen Angels or Mangastream, I forget which -- had originally translated his hero name as Brad King. which, to be frank, would have been one of the greatest hero names of ALL TIME. you can’t imagine my disappointment when I finally learned the truth. it still haunts me to this day.

Jack Mantis - this is Kamakiri (a.k.a. the guy from class 1-B who can grow knives out of his body)’s hero name. my question is, why the Jack. the mantis part, I get! that’s fairly obvious! but the “Jack” is forever a mystery to me. it just adds this little layer of intrigue.

Mr. Brave - this guy is one of the few good things to come from the Basement arc. don’t get me wrong, he is completely useless. but his name? absolutely legendary. this guy, with his power of ripping his own hair out and turning it into a sword (yes that’s his quirk), an ability that could be easily duplicated or bested by literally any jackass who just went out and bought their own damn sword, really thought to himself, “I am going to be the BEST MCFUCKING HERO THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN. I AM GOING TO NAME MYSELF... MISTER BRAVE.” and they let him, you guys. they let him.

anyway so now for the top twenty!

20. Can’t Stop Twinkling - this isn’t a name so much as it is poetry in three words. I still cannot believe that Aoyama went up to Midnight with a hero name that sounds more like the world’s greatest Dear Abby letter, and she actually let him keep it. I’m not 100% clear on how this all works, but I like to think this means that Aoyama’s fellow heroes have an actual legal obligation to call him this in battle. I don’t think we as a fandom and as a people really take enough time out of our lives to stop and be grateful for Aoyama’s existence.

19. Uravity - it’s a pun!! it’s so cute and I love it!! and it’s such a perfect name in that it just instantly sums up and defines her whole brand, bringing to mind both Ochako the person and Zero Gravity the quirk. honestly she is one of only a few kids whose hero name I never space out on. with a lot of the others I usually have to pause for a sec and be like “wait, what was their name again?” but never Ochako.

18. Present Mic - this would make a really great band name honestly. I just like it. I’m pretty sure Horikoshi was going for “present” as in the verb meaning “to perform”, like in “presentation”, but to tell the truth I always pronounce it like “present” as in “gift” or “the present time”, which doesn’t make any sense at all, but IT’S JUST WHAT MY BRAIN DECIDED TO DO. anyway.

17. Tsukuyomi - I know this name has its origins in Japanese mythology, but to be completely honest I’ve always just associated it with Itachi’s infamous genjutsu attack from Naruto. I just think it’s the gothest thing ever and absolutely perfect for Tokoyami lol.

16. All Might - there’s just something about this name that kind of makes me just want to pump my fists and go “YEAH!!” I really like the use of “might” as a noun rather than “mighty” as an adjective like you see in so many classic superhero names. it’s just so much cooler somehow. this name really does conjure up the image of the strongest guy in the universe.

15. Midnight - honestly I’m almost mad that this wound up being a hero name, because it would have made a perfect villain name. it’s dark and mysterious and sexy. it’s no wonder why Midnight chose it lol. anyway so my girl is a bit kinky, nothing wrong with that, and it’s also a perfect name for someone whose quirk puts other people to sleep. it’s just such spot-on branding, I love it.

14. Ingenium - fun fact, I had no idea what this meant when I first came across it because I don’t speak Latin! apparently it means “genius” or “talent.” which is a very good meaning for a hero name! but honestly the real reason I love it so much is because it’s Iida’s tribute to his brother, and I am just such a sucker for that kind of shit. damn you Iida siblings. quit giving me all these feels.

13. Shouto – yes, seriously. I know a lot of people hate this name, and it’s always getting flak for being bland and uncreative. but I honestly think it’s a perfect name for Shouto. firstly because Shouto himself is very much the opposite of flashy in a lot of ways. he’s not particularly animated or attention-seeking; he is a very calm, sort of still-waters-run-deep person, and I think the lack of a snappy brand name fits that personality. I’m even more delighted that it hasn’t remotely curbed his popularity at all (at this point I think the only kid hero with more in-universe fans out there is Momo, and even then it’s probably a close thing), and I think a big part of that is that people are drawn to his unpretentious nature, especially in comparison to a lot of the other heroes out there. but most of all, I like the name because of the simple yet powerful way it serves as a declaration that he is his own person. he’s not his father, and he’s more than just a Todoroki. he is himself; he is Shouto. anyway so yeah, to me this is a fantastic name with so much depth and meaning.

12. Battle Fist - this is Kendou’s hero name AND IT’S PERFECT. like, holy shit. what should we call the girl who goes around punching bad guys around all day with her giant hands. how about BATTLE FIST. there really isn’t much more to say about this one, honestly. its greatness speaks for itself.

11. Vantablack - imagine being such an enormous douchebag that word of your douchey exploits made it all the way over to some guy in Japan who spends 95% of his waking hours writing a manga and has almost no free time. fun fact, although Anish Kapoor is the only one licensed to use the color Vantablack, the name Vantablack is still owned by Surrey NanoSystems (a.k.a. the guys who actually invented it), and so I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who decide whether or not someone else gets to use it. I wonder if Kapoor is pissed about his color being referenced in a popular shounen manga. anyways, all of that speculation aside, it really is the perfect name for someone with Kuroiro’s quirk.

10. Endeavor - look, say what you will about Endeavor the person (although I’m personally a big fan of the way his redemption arc is being done and think he’s a fascinating character, albeit a very flawed one), but there’s no denying that Endeavor is a badass name. but what’s really great about it is how it so perfectly captures the admirable part of Endeavor, the one thing about him that’s actually worth praising. he never gives up. he’s always pushing, striving, struggling forward no matter how hopeless it seems. and that’s a worthy trait, and it says something about him that this is what he chose for his hero name. a name that has nothing to do with fire, nothing to do with his quirk, nothing even to do with his goal of becoming #1. it’s simply a name that means to make an effort; to try and achieve something. and I like that.

9. Sugarman - this IMO is easily the most overlooked and severely underrated hero name in the series. it’s a hidden gem. everyone always forgets about Satou just because his power of being a Strong Punching Guy doesn’t particularly stand out in a manga chock full of strong punching guys. but he is a badass and a great character, and honestly “eating candy makes me super strong” is possibly the single greatest quirk in the history of time and I am jealous. anyway, so this is a really straightforward name, but it’s really smooth and catchy somehow and so it’s one of my favorites.

8. Gale Force - this is Inasa’s hero name! it’s another one which is criminally underrated, much like Inasa himself. airbender powers are just so badass you guys. wind is so badass. this name is all hurricaney and tempesty and super cool and powerful-sounding. this is one of those names that I’m honestly surprised wasn’t already a mainstream superhero name. Marvel was all “nah, we’ll just go with ‘Storm’”, like come on you guys where is the creativity.

7. Red Riot - this name is a fucking grand slam. it’s alliterative! it’s catchy! it’s got the word “riot” in it! it’s an absolutely perfect name for a passionate guy whose quirk lends itself towards good old fashioned brawlin’ and head bashing. the fact that it’s got additional meaning as a tribute towards Kiri’s own personal hero is just the icing on the cake. this is another name that Marvel probably legit wishes they had thought of first. it’s easily the best hero name out of everyone in class 1-A imo.

6. Sir Nighteye - hilariously for the longest time it was not confirmed whether or not Nighteye actually had a real name (he does! but I’ve forgotten it lol), and so there was this lingering question, absurd as it was, of whether or not Nighteye’s parents, whoever they are, were descendants of some proud Nighteye clan, and whether they had really, actually named their child “Sir.” anyways though, I love this name. it’s super cool and mysterious and perfect for someone with future-seeing powers, and the “Sir” just makes even awesomer because it implies that the Queen really liked him or something.

5. Mt. Lady - this name is a stroke of genius. supersize-me powers are a dime a dozen, but the characters always have names like Giant Man or Giganta or Goliath. as far as I know, no other superhero characters have ever thought to name themselves after mountains, let alone to name themselves as if they WERE a mountain. like, she isn’t “mountain lady”; she’s “MOUNT Lady”, as if she were an actual tectonic peak. it really bothers me that I can’t adequately describe in words why I love this so much. I just do!! I think she should get an award.

4. Suneater - Tamaki is out here proving to everyone that your hero name doesn’t need to have jack shit fuckall to do with your actual quirk in order to be completely badass and iconic. sometimes I wonder what Tamaki does when people ask him “out of curiosity, why did you pick that name?”, which someone surely must have done at some point. he probably turns beet red and tries to dissolve into the background. but anyway, the general public does not need to know the meaning of his hero name in order for it to have meaning; we know what the meaning is, and that it’s his way of saying “I believe in myself because my friend believes in me”, and honestly that’s all that matters. I am still of the opinion that certain other people whose childhood friends held a lot of unwavering belief in and admiration towards them could do worse than going down this same hero name route, but we will see! anyways Suneater deserves all your respect.

3. Best Jeanist - I had so much love for this name from the start, and then I found out it was a real, actual award. for people who make good jeans, or are good at wearing jeans, or something. it’s run by the Japan Jeans Council, which is also a real and actual thing. but anyway, despite it not being as wholly original of a name as I thought, it’s still iconic, and I love that he went with something that was recognizable while still fitting his quirk, and which has the added implication that he is the motherfucking best, because he is. also, given that he probably chose this name while he was still in school, and that only public figures generally seem to be eligible for the award, this implies that he chose the name Best Jeanist first, and then went on to win the actual award eight years running. presumably because the JJC got very flustered and were all, “IT’S LITERALLY HIS NAME... WE HAVE TO GIVE IT TO HIM... WE HAVE TO”, and so they did. anyway so that was a goddamn power move on his part.

2. Gang Orca - first of all, if you are an orca man, then naming yourself after orcas is a pretty apt thing to do and I have to respect that. but then along comes the “gang” part, out of absolutely NOWHERE, and it absolutely SMASHES. like, this name comes up to you and it slaps you in the face. GANG ORCA. HE’S A BIG AGGRESSIVE DOLPHIN MAN AND HE’S NOT HERE TO FUCK AROUND. IS HE ACTUALLY IN A GANG?? WE DON’T KNOW. BUT HERE HE IS, READY TO YEET YOUR DELINQUENTS AND HUNT YOUR MOTHERFUCKING SEALS. this name fucks so hard it came within inches of the number one spot. he is a ruffian and a champ.

1. Eraserhead - last but not least, the guy who DIDN’T EVEN PICK HIS OWN NAME. his best friend had to do it for him, and out of love, came up with the SINGLE BEST HERO ALIAS IN THE HISTORY OF MANKIND. first of all, this name sounds like a very funky and electronicy Thom Yorke song. second, it conjures up the image of a man with a big no. 2 pencil head, which could not possibly be further from the truth. it’s just so whiplashy in the best way possible. third, the very existence of this name is seriously a goddamn miracle. he could have been “Power-Stopping Man.” or “Sleeping Bag Man.” or “Scruffy Hero: Tired Man.” or just “Shouta”, but unlike Shouto there wouldn’t have been any actual meaning to it; it would have simply been a case of him not giving the slightest of fucks about coming up with a real name. but rather than any of these, thanks to the power of friendship we were blessed with the greatest hero name in recorded memory. this is one of the few kindnesses fate has ever bestowed upon Aizawa Shouta in his tragic, exhausting life, and I for one am eternally grateful.

anyway so that’s my list! sorry if I left out anyone’s favorites! but I think all of these are deserving of love. also if you want to see the single best thing Japan has ever come up with, please go visit best-jeans.com. they even have an instagram lulz.

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honeyjaez · 4 years ago

Text

Y’all ready for my shitty opinion on the Introduction Kingdom performances that literally no one asked for?

I preface this by saying I love every single group equally and each of these groups (with the sad exception of iKON) I am a hard core fan of. But I also love practicing thinking subjectively and I pride myself on not being too biased when it comes to performances and Kpop, like I know how to understand sometimes my ult might not be the best vocally or whatnot. I like being unbiased with this. So without further ado.

This is not based on scores already known, just my own thoughts.

(And also like these ranking do not reflect my love for a group or if I think they are untalented because all these groups are so massively talented. but rankings have to happen right? Like someones gotta be last but i don’t love them any less lol)

6. Stray Kids (and this hurts as a Stray Kids Ult)

A group that I think really hurt with forced to having to perform the song that they did. (Their only other option was Back Door or levanter but it doesn’t really hit the same as Miroh so I understand why they chose it). The song is still my favorite title track by them (Also Im such a hoe for center Minho like....), but it’s SUCH a hard song to perform live. I remember all the issues they had during the era and still saw a lot of that here, more specifically with the insane rap parts. Its just not something easily done live (I say this like I know how to rap) but it doesn’t take a lot to realize that Changbin’s rap is so insanely fast (which props to him) that it can still be difficult for him. Also I think the backtrack of the song really hindered the performance. It was just too loud. Like you know those performances when you can really tell a group has some relying on the backtrack and others don’t? I have nothing wrong with lip synching, honestly, I could care less by it because I understand they are doing so much movement on stage that I couldn’t understand how to do both. But it takes away from the performance when you hear the difference in members performing live and those who are relying a bit more on it. Stray Kids are AMAZING performers and CAN sing/rap live. It was very cool though I guess with props but it was like they were trying to distract people from the lack of performance. I just think that having to perform Miroh (I know they didn’t get to pick really) was their downfall to me. But the outfits were cool! Regardless, they are still #1 in my heart and I look forward to the other performances!!! But with more Seungmin!!!!!

6. ATEEZ

Next to The Boyz, I am most excited about seeing ATEEZ on Kingdom. One because Korea seriously needs to stop sleeping on them, but two because they are such intense and talented performers. True to form they came in crashing! Unfortunately, the only reason they are so low is that there wasn’t anything that really made them stand out from the others to me. I do appreciate the classic ATEEZ intensity (but like also Hongjoong please don’t be all serious and death stare while suddenly saying Hakuna Matata, I couldn’t take it seriously). But the VOCALS win most intense which sells towards their performance. I appreciated Ateez so much for their intense singing (looking at you Seonghwa and Jongho). I do think that having to perform Wave didn’t really help them. (From my understanding is that MNET told them they had to perform a song that placed #1 which for them was only Wave, or Inception which they already performed at MAMAs (we did Wonderland so dirty)) Not that I hate Wave (its actually my favorite title track by them) and I did enjoy the composition of this new darker Wave, but could you imagine if they had come in swinging with Pirate King or Wonderland? Hell fucking yes. Regardless, looking forward to see how they grow as the youngest group on there! I have nothing but high hopes for them!

4. SF9

Now You guys know how much I love SF9. They are practically an unofficial ult group for me. But this is not based off song because I actually can’t stand Good Guy (I overplayed it when it came out and now I hate it (not really but ya know) ) I remember people saying SF9′s performance wasn’t really memorable, but I didn’t see that. I saw an idol group coming out for the first time to prove something and actually shocking me with how intense they were. They really looked like Gang Members (handsome ones at that) ready to rule the world with their performance. Their looks and their dancing was great. I love SF9 and they haven’t had a lot of opportunities to showcase their talents like this so I look forward to how they shock the other group (also if they don’t do the wheel from K.O in a single performance I will riot) but all in all I think this was a solid performance by them! I laughed at the beginning with Inseong holding the crystal diamond because I couldn’t help but think back to tbz and the crown on rtk. I hope they also do story driven performances on here because I haven’t seen that from them before and I think it would be great!

3. BTOB

Can I just say I appreciate the fact that they are staying true to their vocal roots? So much Kpop these days is intense and in your face with everything, and I worried about a vocally driving group like BTOB being on this program because they’ve never been about the choreography (though I’ll be your man was lit) but just like how everyone reacted, BTOB focusing on their vocals rather than dance was such a breath of fresh air in this round. They really are vocal kings in KPop and the chills that some of those idols felt were so important. Like Wooyoung said after their performance “Vocals are so powerful” (or something like that) and I sometimes feel that people forget that. Intense dancing is great and all, but to wow people with just your voice like they did is a feat not every group can do. The acapella was such a nice tough too. Beautiful Pain is such a beautiful song (ha) and the remix they did for it was just so nice. My only complaint is that we didn’t get enough Minhyuk vocals :(((((

2. The Boyz

Aight, people might accuse me of being biased based on how whipped I was for The Boyz back during RTK, but I’m really not. Like the other groups agreed on, you can tell The Boyz were on RTK. You can tell they have been through a program like this and they came in swinging. They have a lot of pressure on them after the wonderful performances on RTK and I think the opening performance they did didn’t disappoint. They are such good storytellers when it comes to performances (something Ateez is also really good at as well). They just get you immersed in their performances and thats something unique to certain groups. They were just meant to perform. Regardless of scores, The Boyz are proving to be fierce competitor from the get go and not to name names, but Sunwoo is such an amazing rapper live like holy shit. He needs more credit. RTK was amazing for them and I am sure Kingdom will be just that as well!

1. iKON

God I hope Kingdom will turn me from a casual fan to a hardcore ikonic. What I loved about iKON’s performance is a lot like BTOB’s or even SF9′s. There was a sense of branding, like this style was their’s and theirs alone. Also their performance brought so many smiling and happy faces to the crowd. A lot of younger groups look up to iKON and you even heard how many idols there and evaluations to their songs or what not. They just had so much fun on stage and that reflected on the audience who in turn also had a blast. I wasn’t sure how I would feel watching them since out of all the groups I’m least attached to iKON, but just with that causal, fun, but intense performance of rytham-ta one could easily see them as Kings already. I didn’t notice any thing out of place because I was just enjoying the performance completely. And to me, thats the most important part of a performance.

Again, these were just my opinions on this introduction stage. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the performances. Your rankings, and who you look forward to see more from! We will have a fun time with Kingdom on my blog! <3 :3

I look forward to future rounds and what other groups have to offer!

#despite all the issues i had like not seeing Hyunjin at all and what not I actually really enjoyed this first episode #BTOB is such great seniors I can't even #same with ikon #and don;t even get me started on StrayBoyzTeez interactions #and the fact that everyone simps over SF9 #Kingdom #stray kids #the boyz #ikon #btob #ateez #sf9

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bucksblr · 4 years ago

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tagged by @leonzhng thanks for making me dig through my most embarrassing crushes 😭✋

i’ll tag @highwarlockkareena @yibobibo @lan-xichens @purplexedhuman @aheartfullofjolllly @lanzhansmiles @nyx4 i feel like i tag you guys in everything i am so sorry please ignore this if u don’t wanna do it !!

putting this under a read more for reasons

MEN 2010 – 2016

literally nothing more embarrassing than falling on the same type of white man over and over again (with the exception of minho from shinee bless his heart)

tommy joe ratliff → he was the bass player for adam lambert during his glamnation era (think of songs like for your entertainment and if i had you) idk why exactly i liked him so much but i just did.... however i searched him up again quite recently and found out he’s one of those republicans that says the dumbest shit on twitter so Big Yikes

harry styles → “baby you light up my world like nobody else, the way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed, and when you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell...” and BOOM 13-year-old me was sold for well over two years

louis tomlinson → basically i liked harry most until around 2013 when for some reason i started to like him a little less, and i got more focused on louis tomlinson, and although i didn’t like one direction anymore louis tomlinson always had a special place in my heart

ashton irwin → so ashton is 5sos’ drummer, i discovered 5sos through one direction & i stanned them until late 2014

harries twins → the harries twins (jack & finn) are basically the reason i started spending a lot of time on youtube, they were funny and pretty and they just had good videos in general, so for almost two years i’d watch their content regularly

choi minho → my first steps into kpop happened bc i was watching videos on youtube (most probably the harries twins) and suddenly i saw the sherlock mv in my recommended videos so i clicked on it and then 14-year-old me proceeded to fall for minho like an idiot

brooks twins → still youtubers, the brooks twins were 3/5 of the janoskians (jai & luke brooks, beau brooks, daniel sahyounie, & james yammouni), an australian youtube comedy group that was active from 2011-2018 though i was only around from 2012-2014 (when jai brooks was dating ariana grande)

jc caylen → surprise! another youtuber! jc caylen was part of o2l (our2ndlife) a youtube collaboration channel on which each of the 6 members posted videos on a certain day in the week (mondays with connor, tuesdays with ricky, wednesdays with sam, thursdays with jc, fridays with trevi (my 2nd favorite member bc she participated on the x factor), saturdays with ricardo, and then they had surprise sundays every week) and i remember how much joy jc & the others always brought me with their silly videos

misha collins → up next, you might know him as the gay angel that was sent to superhell after confessing his love to the homophobic hunter on supernatural, it’s misha collins! basically misha was a huge source of comfort for me, and i even went around calling myself emmisha for almost two full years (cringe)

henrik holm → he played even bech naesheim in skam and my crush on him reached that level of ridiculousness where i actually tried my hand at learning norwegian (i can only remember how to introduce myself and some curse words i would make a great first impression on him)

MEN 2016 – 2021

min yoongi → okay so my baby steps into kpop happened through shinee’s sherlock, but i only got really invested when yoongi dropped agust d 1 because Holy Fuck y’know??

kim namjoon → oh man i remember thinking namjoon was cute and a very good leader and then BAM he dressed like THAT at the 2016 mma’s and i fell in love. hard

park seojoon → i started liking park seojoon whilst i was watching hwarang (you guessed it, i watched it bc of taehyung), although he wasn’t my favorite character by far, but he was very silly off camera & i liked that (i’m not that into him anymore tho </3)

kim seokjin → OH BOY LET ME TELL U i liked seokjin from the very beginning (i got to know bts in late 2014) and i always liked seeing him perform and be himself and god once i realized i had a crush on him it just hit me like a mf truck, and he’s still one of my favorite people to this day

jung hoseok → god fake love era hoseok really hits different.... also yes i know i have all of bts’ hyung line on my list BUT bts was a really big part of my life for almost 6 years soooo honestly they deserve it i still think they’re great guys

choi san → when ateez made their debut in 2018 i immediately fell in love with san, he was such an amazing dancer and he captivated me right from the very beginning, to this day he’s still my bias in ateez uwu

xiao zhan → AND THEN, OCTOBER OF 2019 HAPPENS AND I WATCH CQL AND... i fall in love with xiao zhan, something i’d never expected would happen bc when i watched cql for the first time i wasn’t as invested in the story, but i really really really liked xiao zhan and one thing led to another and now here i am as a xfx

wang yibo → the thing is, i’ve known yibo since eoeo except i didn’t know cql yibo was uniq yibo (bc i’d forgotten his name) and when i looked it up i can tell you my jaw dropped to the floor bc holy shit????? also he is very silly and i love him loads ok

lee minho → ah, the man who has been my skz bias since 2018, not only is minho my bias i also kin him (there’s a lot of aspects of myself that i see in minho and vice versa) and he’s very comforting to me

bang chan → honestly, it was only a matter of time before i’d fall for bang chan, i knew the moment i got into skz again that i’d start biasing him and, well, here i am, double biasing chan & minho

WOMEN

this list is shorter bc i’ve in general always had less crushes on women than on men??? blame society forcing me into thinking i was straight for a LONG time

ariana grande → remember the 2011 layout of twitter?? where u could not only have an icon and a header, but also a background and ur twitter page was smack in the center of ur screen with the big ugly menu bar at the top??? yeah ariana grande was always my background for my l*rr* st*l*n*s*n layouts

perrie edwards → this was right around the time she was dating zayn & little mix was breaking out into the spotlight, yeah i just really loved her

andrea russett → okay so remember o2l?? andrea russett was kian’s girlfriend for a pretty long time and they always did videos together and i always thought she was super pretty

lily collins → maybe i don’t like clary in tmi all that much but i sure liked the way lily collins looked

alona tal → MY BISEXUAL AWAKENING, it’s only when i saw alona tal in spn that i realized, fuck i might be gay

park jihyo → i discovered twice (my 2nd jype group after day6) through the like ooh-ahh mv and red-haired jihyo really did something to my heart (i just rewatched it and god zombie bang chan is so mf cute)

kim jisoo → when bp made their square two comeback i was immediately smitten for red-haired jisoo in playing with fire, it’s also when i realized she was my bias out of the four members

shin ryujin → the reason that i have blue hair is partially bc of ryujin and her amazing intro in wannabe :D

xuan lu → her portrayal of jiang yanli was SO ON POINT and she’s just such a kindhearted wonderful person wow i want her hand in marriage

lee yoobin → god i’ve known dreamcatcher from back when they were still called minx and ever since i’ve always looked at dami that bit more than the rest, i was also able to see dreamcatcher live in october of 2019 and the whole experience was just so amazing !!

FICTIONAL CHARACTERS

there’s a whole lot more than just these 10 but i wanted to fit the evolution into one (1) slide as best as i could lmao

peter pan → this movie came out in 2003 (?) and he’s honestly the first fictional character i remember ever having a crush on

legolas → i was really doubting between placing haldir or legolas here but i only really got a vague haldir obsession when i was like 14

zuko → LOOK. ZUKO IN ATLA? HOT. ZUKO IN LOK? HOT EVEN IF HE’S AN OLD MAN.

will turner → man was annoying sometimes but i really liked him and his relationship with elizabeth was cute

jo harvelle → gosh i can’t believe she’s the only female character in here???? yeah she was one of my two spn faves and i’ll never forgive the screenwriters for the way they killed her off

castiel → does your fave ever get sent to super hell for being gay? no? well. mine did

kili → fili and kili’s storyline tore my heart out, spit on it, and then laughed straight in my face, KILI WAS LITERALLY MY FAVORITE DWARF

howl → i only watched this movie for the first time in 2020 so i kinda fucked up the tl cause i watched cql in 2019 but shh, anyways howl with his blonde hair was good looking but howl with his black hair just hits differently. i want a howl

lan jingyi → MY BABY BOY, TINIE LITTLE BABIE WHOMST I MUST PROTECT ok no but seriously this kid. i love him a lot

mu qing → BARK BARK. that’s all (that’s not all i love him a whole lot and it hurts me to see so many people misunderstand his character and only see the bad parts of him when they can forgive others for fucking up (eg. xie lian himself & feng xin) but bc mu qing doesn’t deal well with emotions suddenly he’s the bad guy??? i s2g if ppl are gonna do to him what they did to jiang cheng in the tgcf la i will RIOT)

#thanks for the tag hanyi my hands hurt now </3 #tag game

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eddie-redmayne-italian-blog · 4 years ago

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photos by Frank Ockenfels

The Long Journey and Intense Urgency of Aaron Sorkin's 'The Trial of the Chicago 7'

by Rebecca Keegan September 23, 2020, 6:00 am PDT

The director of the Netflix film, which stars Sacha Baron Cohen, Jeremy Strong, Eddie Redmayne and Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, reveals why it took nearly 20 years to get the project about the politically motivated prosecution of protestors made and why it couldn't be more timely: "I never imagined today would go so much like 1968."

In October 2019, hundreds of protesters marched down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue toward the Hilton, chanting phrases like "No justice, no peace!" and "A people united will never be defeated!" as police in riot gear descended on the crowd with billy clubs and tear gas. Earnest and energized, clad in 1960s period costumes and flanked by vintage police vehicles, this group thought they were acting out the past, staging a scene from Aaron Sorkin’s The Trial of the Chicago 7. As it turned out, they were performing the future, too.

Sorkin’s film, which opens in select theaters Sept. 25 and hits Netflix on Oct.  16, tells the story of the riots at the 1968 Chicago Democratic National Convention and the circus-like trial of political activists that followed the next year. Thanks to Hollywood development hell, the movie is arriving 14  years after Steven Spielberg first mentioned the idea to Sorkin but just as its themes and plot points — civil unrest, a self-proclaimed "law and order" president’s vilification of protesters (Nixon then, Trump now), the police’s excessive use of force, tensions within the Democratic Party over how far left to move — have become bracingly current."I never wanted the film to be about 1968," Sorkin says in an interview over Zoom from his house in the Hollywood Hills on Labor Day weekend. "I never wanted it to be an exercise in nostalgia or a history lesson. I wanted it to be about today. But I never imagined that today would get so much like 1968."For only the second time in a career spanning nine films as a screenwriter, Sorkin serves as director with Chicago 7, helming a sprawling ensemble cast that includes Eddie Redmayne as anti-war activist Tom Hayden, Sacha Baron Cohen as Youth International Party (Yippie) provocateur Abbie Hoffman, Succession’s Jeremy Strong as counterculture figure Jerry Rubin and Watchmen’s Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as Black Panther party co-founder Bobby Seale. There are undeniable parallels not only between the film and the present political moment but also between the performance-art activism of the actors and the men they’re playing, most vividly Cohen, who, like Hoffman, has made a career of political self-expression through comedic stunts, including crashing a far-right rally in Olympia, Washington, this summer while pretending to be a racist country singer. (Cohen, who shoots most of his satirical projects incognito, impishly calls reports of his appearance at the rally "fake news.")Eight months after Sorkin filmed the protest scenes in Chicago, Abdul-Mateen was marching in Black Lives Matter protests in West Hollywood, as was Strong in Brooklyn. "There’s power when a lot of people come together to protest out of anger, out of frustration," Abdul-Mateen says. "Everybody has a role in the revolution; this film shows that.

"Though the movie feels crafted for this political moment, it was born of another. At Sorkin’s first meeting with Spielberg, "I remember him saying, 'It would be great if we could have this out before the election,'" Sorkin says. The election Spielberg was talking about was 2008’s, when Barack Obama and Joe Biden faced John McCain and Sarah Palin.The film hit multiple roadblocks, beginning with the 2007-08 writers strike and continuing as financing faltered repeatedly, a fate illustrated by the more than 30 producers who can claim some sort of credit on Chicago 7. It took another unscheduled detour this summer after Sorkin finished it as the pandemic worsened, and the odds of original distributor Paramount mounting a successful theatrical release before the Nov. 3 election seemed increasingly slim. For some involved with the film, there is a question about the ethics of Hollywood inviting audiences to return to theaters before a COVID-19 vaccine is widely available. "

There’s a moral quandary that we, the motion picture business, have to be careful that we don’t become the tobacco industry, where we’re encouraging people to do something we know is potentially lethal," says Cohen.Before his visit to Spielberg’s Pacific Palisades home to discuss the project on a Saturday afternoon in 2006, Sorkin knew next to nothing about the Chicago 7. The federal government had charged seven defendants — Hoffman, Rubin, Hayden, David Dellinger, Rennie Davis, John Froines and Lee Weiner — with conspiracy for their participation in the protests against the Vietnam War outside the Democratic National Convention. (Originally the men were known as the Chicago 8 and included Seale, who asked to have his trial separated from that of the others and postponed so that he could be represented by his preferred lawyer, who was ill; that trial never took place.)

When Spielberg proposed a movie about the riots and the trial that followed, Sorkin, who was 7 in 1968, said, "'You know, that sounds great. Count me in.' As soon as I left his house, I called my father and said, 'Dad, do you know anything about a riot that happened in 1968 or a crazy conspiracy trial that followed?' I was just saying yes to Steven."Despite his ignorance, Sorkin was a logical choice to write the project: Having penned Broadway’s A Few Good Men and its 1992 film adaptation as well as the long-running NBC series West Wing, he’d shown a flair for dramatizing courtroom procedures and liberal politics, and he turned in his first draft of the Chicago 7 script in 2007. Originally, Spielberg planned to direct the project himself, but by the time the writers strike was over, he had moved on and a number of other potential directors circled, including Paul Greengrass, Ben Stiller, Peter Berg and Gary Ross, though none was able to get it off the ground. "There was just a feeling that, 'Look, this isn’t an Avengers film,'" Sorkin says of the studios' move away from midbudget dramas and toward action tentpoles in the 2010s. "This isn’t an easy sell at the box office. And there are big scenes, riots, crowd scenes. How can this movie be done for the budget that makes sense for what the expectation is at the box office?"As the project languished, Sorkin tried writing it as a play, ultimately spending 18 months on a fruitless effort to fashion a stage treatment. "What I didn’t like was having a script in my drawer," he says. "I was just thinking, 'Jeez, this is a good movie and it feels like it’s stillborn.'"It was the confluence of two events that ultimately revived the film with Sorkin in the director’s chair in 2018 — the 2016 election of Donald Trump and the 2017 release of Sorkin’s well-received directorial debut, Molly’s Game, which doubled its production budget at the box office. "This is before George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and police protests or confrontations," Sorkin says. "This is just when Donald Trump was musing nostalgically about the old days when they used to carry that guy [a protester] out of here on a stretcher and punch the crap out of him."With Trump’s throwback rhetoric lending the subject matter a new timeliness and Sorkin’s directing chops confirmed in Spielberg’s eyes, the movie moved forward with its screenwriter at the helm.

Cross Creek Pictures came in to finance, and Paramount bought the domestic rights. But all those years in development had left an expensive imprint on the project — a jaw-dropping $11  million had been spent on casting costs, producing fees and the optioning of Brett Morgen’s 2007 documentary about the event, Chicago 10, leaving just $24  million for the actual 36-day production.

One way Sorkin attempts to achieve a sense  of scope despite that budget is by intercutting real black-and-white news footage with his dramatized protests. He rounded out his large cast with a deep bench of experienced and award-winning actors including Oscar winner Mark Rylance as defense attorney William Kunstler, Oscar nominee Frank Langella as Judge Julius Hoffman, Joseph Gordon-Levitt as prosecutor Richard Schultzand, Oscar nominee Michael Keaton as former U.S. Attorney General Ramsey Clark — with the filmmaker and many of his actors working for scale. (Abdul-Mateen and Strong both became first-time Emmy winners Sept.  20.)Sorkin shot the protest scenes on location in Chicago and built a courtroom set in an old church sanctuary in Paterson, New Jersey, because none of the available courtroom locations in the Garden State conveyed the scope he wanted. "If we’re saying the whole world is watching, I want a packed courtroom for six months full of press and spectators," Sorkin says. "I wanted the big, cavernous feeling of the federal government and its power coming down on these people."

Julian Wasser/The LIFE Images Collection via Getty Images/Getty Images "The movie is tribute to the bravery of the protesters of 1968 [pictured] and today in Belarus, on the streets of America, in Portland," says Cohen.

Among the vestiges of Spielberg’s original plan was the casting of Cohen as Hoffman, which required the London native to affect a Boston accent and return to a subject he had studied as an undergraduate at Christ’s College in Cambridge, where he wrote a thesis paper about Jewish activists during the civil rights movement. At 19, Cohen had interviewed Bob Moses, the leader of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, which Hoffman was involved in before he founded the anti-war Yippie movement. "Honestly, I was very proud of the fact that Jews were involved in the Black civil rights movement in the '60s, and there wasn’t much written about it," Cohen says, explaining his youthful scholarship.

There’s a clear line to draw between Hoffman’s 1960s theatrics — which included throwing fistfuls of money into the gallery of the New York Stock Exchange and vowing to levitate the Pentagon — and Cohen’s contemporary TV and film pranks. Perhaps among Cohen’s most memorable and pointed gags was getting Vice President Dick Cheney to gleefully autograph a waterboard kit, which the comic did while posing as an admiring Israeli anti-terror expert for a 2018 episode of Who Is America?, his Showtime series. “What I wanted to do was to show that he was proud of torturing," Cohen says. "I could not believe how happy Cheney was to be sitting next to an uber-fan. So, yes. Ultimately in the shows and the movies that I do, I’m trying to be funny, but yeah, I’m trying to get out the anger that I have within me."

Cohen sees Hoffman’s unorthodox protest methods as pragmatic. "The Yippies were underfunded, and he was using theatricality to gain attention for his aims," Cohen says. "He wanted to stop the war. And how do you do that? You use stunts and absurdist humor to try to effect change." The actor estimates that, after researching Hoffman, he pitched Sorkin hundreds of lines the activist had really delivered. "As an annoying person with a lot of chutzpah, I was emailing Aaron every other night until morning, 'What about this line? What about this line?'" Cohen says. The writer-director, known for his exacting prose, politely tolerated the suggestions while largely sticking to his own script.

As Rubin, Strong is playing Hoffman’s conscientious jester sidekick, a role wildly different from the tragic, wealthy approval seeker he portrays on Succession. Strong added some of his own dramatic flourishes, including painting words on his chest for one courtroom scene and bringing a remote-controlled fart machine to disrupt Langella’s imperious judge. "I wanted to channel as much as possible that spirit of the merry prankster and of joyous dissent," Strong says. Hoffman and Rubin’s real-life personae were so large that Sorkin at times asked his actors to dial down their faithful portrayals, requesting, after one particularly jubilant take, "less cowbell."

Sorkin’s script draws a sharp contrast between Hoffman and Rubin’s campy methods and Hayden’s more reserved approach to the anti-war movement, with the tensions between Hoffman and Hayden supplying the film’s key relationship in a kind of begrudging brotherhood of the peace movement. To learn more about Hayden, Redmayne studied remarks that Jane Fonda, who was married to the activist and politician from 1973 to 1990, made upon his death in 2016. In his own life, Redmayne is cautious when it comes to discussing the role that he, as an actor at the center of a huge studio franchise (Warner Bros.’ Fantastic Beasts) might have in political life. "I find it endlessly challenging," Redmayne says of navigating his public activism. "There’s the elitist thing. It’s speaking up on climate change but being conscious that you’re traveling a lot. One has to be aware of one’s own hypocrisies, because they can be detrimental to something you believe in. So sometimes I find that I have to live my life and speak to my advocacy in a way in that it’s around friends, family and people I know rather than making something public."

Abdul-Mateen has begun his acting career largely associated with fantastical roles, like Dr. Manhattan on HBO’s Watchmen, Black Manta in Aquaman and Candyman in the upcoming Jordan Peele-produced remake of the slasher film. Playing Seale represented a chance to do more grounded work and to depict a man who had loomed large during Abdul-Mateen’s childhood in Oakland, where Seale co-founded the Black Panthers in 1966 and later ran for mayor. Seale’s inclusion in the original Chicago riots indictment was controversial and strange — prosecutors accused him of conspiring with men he’d never met after visiting Chicago that week for only a few hours to deliver a speech. For the prosecution, Seale functioned largely as a prop to tap into the fears of white jurors and white Americans watching the news coverage, and during the trial he had no attorney. "I wanted to key in on, how did Bobby Seale survive this trial?" Abdul-Mateen says. "How did he survive the gross mistreatment by the United States government, and how did he go through that with his head high and not be broken? It was an exercise in finding my pride, finding my dignity."

In one scene, Seale is brought into the courtroom bound and gagged, and throughout the trial he is kept separate from the white defendants. "Although it was meant to be a humiliating act, I walked out with my chest high, with my head high. Bound and gagged and everything else. It would be very dangerous for a Black man in that time, even sometimes today, to show the proof of the wear and tear that oppression can take on a person, because that can be seen as a sign of weakness, and a sign of weakness is an open door that it’s working." For the moments of lightness that Cohen and Strong bring to the movie, Abdul-Mateen supplies ballast. "It’s important for the right reasons and at the right time to make art that makes people uncomfortable," he says.

Niko Tavernise/NETFLIX. On the set, from left, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Mark Rylance, Ben Shenkman, Aaron Sorkin and Eddie Redmayne

Spielberg has remained involved in the film "in an emeritus role," Sorkin says, "from giving me good script notes to casting to notes on early cuts of the film." He also showed up to the New Jersey courtroom set. "When you have to direct a scene in front of Steven Spielberg, you’re not at your most relaxed necessarily," Sorkin says. Spielberg did not, however, take an executive producing credit on the film and declined to be interviewed about it.

The decision to switch to a streaming release came after an early summer marketing strategy call between Sorkin, Paramount chief Jim Gianopulos, other Paramount execs and some of the film’s producers. "At the end of the call, Jim said, 'Listen, we don’t know what the theater business is going to look like in the fall. We have troubling data telling us that the first people back in movie theaters are going to be the people who think that the coronavirus is a hoax,'" Sorkin says. This was clearly not the intended audience for a movie whose heroes are liberal activists. "I said, 'I don’t think the Idaho militia are going to be the first people coming to this movie,'" Sorkin says.

The group agreed to explore alternatives and gave Netflix, Amazon, Apple and Hulu 24 hours to watch the film. After a bidding war, Chicago 7 landed at Netflix in a $56  million deal against its $35  million production budget, with a robust marketing campaign and promise of a theatrical release. "We knew we didn’t have the option of 'Let’s wait a year,'" Sorkin says. "This is what we’re thinking about and what we’re talking about right now, and it just would have been a real shame to not release it now."

After Chicago 7 opens in limited release, Netflix will add more theaters in the U.S. and abroad throughout October, expanding upon the film’s premiere on the service, a strategy akin to what it provided Oscar best picture nominees The Irishman and Roma, albeit in a wildly different theatrical environment.

As Hollywood opens up to more production, Sorkin, and many of the Chicago 7 actors, have begun returning to work. Abdul-Mateen has been in Berlin for The Matrix 4 and Redmayne in London for Fantastic Beasts 3, while Sorkin is shooting a West Wing reunion special at the Orpheum Theatre in downtown L.A. that will premiere on HBO Max in October as a fundraiser for When We All Vote and include video appearances by Michelle Obama, Bill Clinton and Lin-Manuel Miranda

For the real-life Chicago 7, the denouement consisted of ultimately being acquitted of conspiracy. Judge Hoffman sentenced Seale to four years in prison for contempt of court, one of the longest sentences ever handed down for that offense in the U.S., but those charges were overturned on appeal. Just three of the original eight defendants — Seale, Froines and Weiner — are still alive, but the legacy of the case lives on in contemporary protest movements. "The movie is tribute to the bravery of the protesters of 1968 and the protesters of today in Belarus, on the streets of America, in Portland," Cohen says. "These people now are risking their lives, and they’ll continue risking them."

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/features/the-trial-of-the-chicago-7-aaron-sorkin-and-stars-on-films-timeliness-to-election-and-why-everybody-has-a-role-in-the-revolution

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bedlamsbard · 4 years ago

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Part 6 of the other side AU concept! This should be seven parts total, but part 7 is likely to be delayed again due to a deadline and some health problems.

Previous: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

About 5.9K below the break.

***

“I’ve changed my mind,” Hera said, her voice so small that she could hardly hear herself. “I don’t want to do this. We should fly off and be pirates instead.”

Her hands were shaking so badly on the control yoke that the Ghost was in danger of beginning to wobble. After a moment’s hesitation, she glanced at Kanan to make sure that he had his hands on the co-pilot’s controls, then took her hands off the yoke and fisted them in her lap. She knew Kanan. He would be able to fly straight even with the galaxy crumbling around him, which at the moment Hera felt it was. She could usually fly no matter what; apparently this was the exception to that rule.

The steadily growing shapes that hung in space before them weren’t the Free Ryloth fleet. It was the Syndulla family yacht, the Syndulla’s Gamble, and her aunt Sinthya’s ship the Sandfly, the latter standing a little off the from the Gamble so as to have a better firing solution on the approaching Ghost. She wondered if that had been her father’s idea or her aunt (actually her mother’s cousin) Sinthya’s.

The comm unit on the dashboard crackled expectantly. Hera stared at it, half-expecting it to spit at her.

“I don’t think they’ll want to listen to me,” Kanan said apologetically. He spoke Twi’leki fluently, but had the strongest Coruscant accent in it that Hera had ever heard.

Hera supposed that she could get up and go and fetch the other Hera out of her cabin, but that wasn’t exactly a solution. Wincing, she reached for the comm. “This is Ghost.”

She didn’t recognize the voice that responded, though she suspected it was a cousin of some sort. “This is Syndulla’s Gamble, Ghost. We’re prepared for you to dock at our port airlock. Is that acceptable for your vessel?”

Hera swallowed. “Yes, that’s acceptable. We’ll dock shortly.”

“Acknowledged.”

She ran through a mental registry of which relative that could possibly have been and came up short, mostly through her own faulty memory of her extended family. There were a lot of people who had been lost at the colony, too, and while she was vaguely aware that a few had made it back to the fleet she had absolutely no idea who they were. Besides her mother, of course. Agent Beneke had made sure that she had known that, even though he had kept everything else about Free Ryloth from her.

The Syndulla’s Gamble was twice again the size of the Ghost, a healthily-sized yacht that Hera’s great-grandfather had purchased new from a Corellian shipmaker. It grew steadily in the Ghost’s viewport as they approached; she stared at its half-familiar lines, her gaze marking out the places on the hull where armor plating had been put on or where carbon scoring marked laserfire sustained sometime in the recent past, not to mention the additional quadlasers that hadn’t been there seven years ago, the last time she had seen the Gamble. The changes gave her an odd feeling that she couldn’t quite identify. The ship was still elegant despite the extra weaponry, but…different.

“Do you want to take her in?” Kanan asked her quietly. “I can if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll do it,” Hera said shakily. She put her hands on the control yoke again, maneuvering the Ghost until the two ships’ airlocks matched. They were both Corellian, if not from the same manufacturer, so their airlocks were compatible; Hera didn’t have to worry about running a pressure tunnel between the two ships. She kept her gaze on the control panel until it signaled that the airlocks were locked together and that pressure and atmosphere between the two ships was stable.

“Better stay up here in case – just in case,” she told Chopper. She tried to get up without taking her safety straps off and was immediately jerked back down; Kanan quirked a worried eyebrow at her and Hera grimaced back, undoing the buckle. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Are you all right?”

“What convinced you?” Hera grumbled. She checked the set of her blaster in its holster just for the sake of having something to do with her hands, even though the chances of having to use it were low. Possible, depending on how this ended up going, but low.

Kanan put a hand on her wrist to stop her before they left the cockpit. Hera paused, looking up at him, and he dropped his head to kiss her briefly. “It will be all right,” he told her gently.

She put her arms around him and leaned her forehead against his shoulder, suddenly so tired it was hard to think. “I don’t want to do this,” she whispered to him. “I want my mother, but I don’t want to do this.”

And she wanted the other Hera to see her mother too, even if she didn’t know how to explain that to Kanan, or have any idea how she was going to explain it to Alecto Syndulla, for that matter. If her mother even wanted her. Despite the conversation she had had via comm call, she still couldn’t bring herself to believe it, not after six years.

“I know,” Kanan said. “But we’re here.”

Hera nodded glumly. She let herself stay where she was for a few more moments, then pulled away from Kanan and wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. She wasn’t crying, but she could feel the beginnings of tears threatening to start.

Kanan pressed a kiss to her forehead. They left the cockpit together, heading towards the airlock and leaving Chopper to grumble behind them; he didn’t like being left behind. Hera braced herself as they approached the hatch; she was breathing shallowly, and she was holding onto Kanan’s hand so firmly it had to hurt him. He didn’t complain, just glanced at her to make sure she was all right.

Hera gave him a shaky smile before reaching for the hatch control. She had to fight the urge to shut her eyes as it slid open.

Her parents were on the other side.

Hera had had only the vaguest idea of what she was going to say when she saw them, but all of it went out of her head. She started to cry in near-silent gasping sobs.

Her mother was there before Kanan could do more than shift in reaction. She took Hera in her arms and pulled her close, murmuring, “It’s all right, baby, it’s all right, I’m here, you’re here, it’s all right. We’ll be all right now.”

“Hera. Hera, baby, wake up.”

Hera woke with a start, wincing at the crook in her neck even before she had fully regained consciousness. She had fallen asleep at the table in her temporary cabin, reading through ISB files on a borrowed datapad. It was hard to tell how many of them would still be relevant to her present day and a few of them referred to programs that she was almost certain didn’t exist in her own time, but no information was ever wasted.

“I’m awake,” she said, almost slurring the words. She spoke in Twi’leki, responding in the same language she had been spoken to in. “I’m –” She finally succeeded in raising her head from her folded arms and saw the woman leaning over her. “Mama?”

Alecto Syndulla smiled at her.

Hera scrambled to her feet and flung her arms around her mother’s neck. “Mama!”

Alecto took a staggered step back, but put her arms around Hera and hugged her back, then cupped her hands around Hera’s face and said, “Look at you!”

Hera beamed at her, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Her brain caught up with the rest of her belatedly and she said, “You – you know I’m not her –”

“I know,” Alecto said calmly. “She explained. But I know my daughter.”

Hera hugged her again, overcome. “Mama, I – Mama –”

Kanan made a faintly interrogative inquiry from the bunk, sounding like he was still mostly asleep. Hera glanced up at him, feeling a wave of tenderness overwhelm her because he was here, he was here, and her mother was here, and she hadn’t thought she would have either ever again.

“Go back to sleep, love,” she told him. “It’s all right. I’ll introduce you later.”

Alecto drew her out of the cabin into the hallway, hugged her again, then held her at arm’s length as she looked Hera up and down. Hera held still, beaming at her, then fumbled her holoprojector out of her pocket.

“Mama – Mama, can I show you – this is my son, this is Jacen –”

Alecto wore the same poleaxed expression that Bail Organa had when he had seen Leia and her son, Hera was bemused to note. She could practically see the words but why does he have hair? floating behind her mother’s eyes, before Alecto flicked a quick glance at the cabin door and the sleeping human inside, and her expression softened. She put an arm around Hera’s shoulders and smiled.

“He looks like a good boy,” she said. “How old is he?”

“He’s five. He’ll be six in a few months. He’s on Ryloth with Daddy –” She stopped abruptly, her exhausted brain catching up with what she knew about the differences between her own universe and this one. “Daddy – Father – he didn’t leave Ryloth.”

For a moment her mother didn’t say anything, her gaze fixed on the hologram. Hera let herself just look at her mother – a tall, handsome Twi’lek woman about her own height, her green skin a few shades darker than Hera’s own. There was a scar tracing its way from the edge of her cap to her jaw that Hera’s mother hadn’t had, and the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes were deeper than they had been.

“Mama,” she said, small-voiced. “You –” No, not her. Hera squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again and forced herself to say, “My mother died when I was thirteen, in the riots in Lessu. Father said an Imperial sniper shot her, when Moff Mors sent in stormtroopers to deal with the protests. I remember when Daddy and Uncle Themarsa brought her back to the townhouse, after – after.”

Alecto looked at her, her gaze sad, then reached up to pull down the shoulder of her shirt, revealing the puckered scar tissue from an old blaster wound.

Hera had helped her aunt Clotho wash her mother’s body afterwards, preparing her to lie in state as befit a curiate patrician, though they had never been able to hold the usual public ceremony since the Empire had locked down Lessu. The laser blast that had killed her mother had been only a few inches down and to the left of Alecto’s scar.

“Father sent me back to the villa with the cousins,” Hera went on. “He got very distant after that – he wasn’t at the villa often. That’s when he was forming Free Ryloth – I found that out later, when I was sixteen. We had a huge fight about it.”

Her mother looked up at her, her eyes hurt. “After I was hurt, Cham sent everyone away to the colony,” she said. “The Empire wiped it out a year later.”

Hera stared at her. “Is that it?” she said. “Is that – is that the difference? You – my mother – dying? Is that all it is? And – and this happened, just because – is that it?”

Alecto reached out and pulled her into an embrace. “Our lives are our own, baby,” she said gently. “We can’t make sense of the past any more than we can change it.”

But we can, Hera thought; Kanan was still asleep in the other room. Though she supposed that that wasn’t quite changing the past, just taking something out of it; her own life wouldn’t be changed at all when she returned to her timeline. Unless they had all miscalculated, and reaching back to take Kanan out of that moment had had a ripple effect forwards, one that she hadn’t realized yet because she wasn’t there –

She shuddered.

Her mother mistook it and hugged her again. “It’s all right, baby,” she said. She cupped a hand around Hera’s face and smiled at her. “I’m glad I got to meet you. Tell me about yourself – about your life, and your boy. How old are you?”

“I’m thirty-three,” Hera said. She faltered for a moment, because she wasn’t more than ten years younger than her mother had been when she had died, but went on, “I’m thirty-three, and I’m a general in the Rebel Alliance – it might be the New Republic Navy now, if the council has already ratified the constitution.”

She smiled at her mother’s soft exclamation, and gave a brief overview of her life since the age of thirteen. She glossed over Kanan’s death, since that was a little more explanation than she wanted to give at the moment, though when she mentioned him her mother said tentatively, “He’s your son’s father?”

“Yes,” Hera said.

“He seems like a nice young man,” her mother said, which puzzled Hera for a moment until she realized that Alecto probably meant the other Kanan.

“Well, I think so,” Hera said.

Her mother put an arm around her shoulders and said, “Let’s go see your father.”

“He’s not –” Her mother was dead in her own timeline, but Cham Syndulla was very much alive, and Hera had talked to him as recently as three days ago. It was all too easy for Hera to take this Alecto Syndulla as her own mother; her mother had died when she was thirteen and Alecto hadn’t seen her daughter since Hera – the other Hera – was fourteen. Hera knew her father.

She took a breath, uncomfortable under her mother’s – under Alecto’s – curious expression, and said, “He isn’t my father, not really.”

A tiny line knit between Alecto’s brows, but all she said was, “Let’s go see him.”

Hera followed her down the corridor into the common room, where she found the other Hera and Kanan along with Cham Syndulla and, to Hera’s surprise, her aunt Clotho and cousin Doriah. All looked a little startled to see her, their gazes flicking back and forth between her and the younger Hera. The other woman looked desperately uncomfortable, and a little relieved to see Hera.

Cham looked exactly the same as her father had when Hera had spoken to him; past a certain point male Twi’leks didn’t show their age much, and Hera would have had to put both men side by side to make out the differences. He got up and came over to her as Hera stared at him, saying, “Daughter –”

Hera opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and finally managed to say, “Hello, Father.”

For a moment, Cham hesitated, then he put his hands on her shoulders. “Hera,” he said.

She looked past him just in time to see the brief flash of hurt cross the other Hera’s face.

“I’m Hera,” she said quickly. “But I’m a different Hera, from somewhere – somewhen else. I’m thirty-three years old, I’m a general in the Rebel Alliance, and I have a five-year-old son.”

Cham’s jaw dropped. His gaze went to Kanan, sitting beside the other Hera, and Hera had to stifle sudden laughter.

“Yes,” she said, “but mine, I mean, the Kanan from my universe.”

Cham’s expression did something complicated that might have made more sense if Hera could see his lekku, which she couldn’t from this angle; Doriah’s face went outraged but his mother laid a hand on his arm before he could say anything.

“Come and sit down,” Cham said finally.

Hera looked at the expression on the other Hera’s face and hesitated. “I should stay with Kanan –” she said.

The girl shook her head slightly, her expression a little desperate. Hera bit her lip, then sat down at her mother’s urging. She gave them all another brief precis of her life to date, taking out her holoprojector again to show Cham, Aunt Clotho, and Doriah Jacen. Doriah just looked upset, which puzzled Hera, but she didn’t want to ask why in front of anyone else.

Seeing Doriah was something of a shock. She and her cousin had quarreled before she had left Ryloth fifteen years ago; he had been killed while she had been offworld, so they had never gotten a chance to reconcile. They had been close as children – Hera was only six months older – but had spent the latter part of their teens fighting until Hera had finally left Ryloth. Never being able to make up with him was one of the great regrets of Hera’s life.

She happened to be looking at Kanan at the exact moment when he grimaced suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands went white-knuckled on his knees. The other Hera shot him an anxious look as he got to his feet, muttering an excuse before he went out into the galley. Hera heard the hatch beyond that slide open and then closed again as he went into the back of the ship.

Kanan staggered into the engine room, which was about as far as he could get from the rest of the ship without flushing himself out the airlock, and dropped to the floor beside the hyperdrive. He pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead, wincing, and tried to concentrate on the ache that caused instead of anything else.

No, he mouthed. No, no, no –

The airlock was sounding better and better with every passing moment.

Distantly, as if from a long ways away, he heard the engine room hatch slide open. Kanan winced, trying to get himself together enough to tell whoever it was – probably Hera, maybe Chopper – to go away, but couldn’t get the words to come.

Warm hands touched his wrists. Kanan flinched, but didn’t pull away; the Hunter had trained that out of him early on.

“It’s me,” the other Kanan said, the words accompanied by a light touch of the Force that seared Kanan’s abused mind like acid. This time he did flinch away, and felt his counterpart pull back – in the Force, at least; he didn’t release his light grip on Kanan’s wrists.

Kanan opened his mouth to tell him that he should probably go away and couldn’t remember how to speak.

“Hey,” the other man said, his voice very gentle. “Hey, come on, look at me.”

He couldn’t do that. Kanan had to tell him that he couldn’t do that, because he knew that if he opened his eyes, it wouldn’t just be him looking out.

“Listen to me,” the other Kanan said, “I will not let him touch you. You have my word as a Jedi Knight. I just need you to look at me.”

He knew.

He knew, and the rush of shame that went through Kanan made him dizzy. He could feel the pressure against his mind increase; it was so overwhelming that he almost lost his sense of awareness of the blazing presence beside him.

“I will not let him hurt you or anyone else on this ship,” the other Kanan said forcefully. “I can stop you if I have to. You can tell that for yourself if you reach out.”

He shook his head, willing the other man to understand. If he opened himself up enough to do that, it would give the Hunter space to slip in, and it wouldn’t be him the other Kanan had to deal with it, it would be the Hunter. He couldn’t let the Hunter know.

“Kid, listen to me,” the other Kanan said. “I can help you. Just listen to me. Listen to the sound of my voice. Do you hear me?”

After a long moment, Kanan managed to nod, just slightly. He wasn’t certain that the other Kanan could actually see the gesture, but he said, “Good. I’m going to reach out again. If it hurts you, I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

He jerked his chin in something that might have been construed as a nod. He still flinched when he felt the gentle touch of the other man’s mind against his, but didn’t kick him out this time. The Hunter’s awareness of the intruder flared, then retreated in confusion.

“It’s all right,” the other Kanan murmured, the words seemingly to be half spoken and half in his mind. “He can’t tell us apart.”

Kanan whimpered softly in the back of his throat, like the hound he had been named for. The words came slowly – still to his mind, not to his lips. You’re a Jedi. I’m not. He’ll know –

“Not from this distance, and not without knowing that I’m here at all,” the other Kanan said. “Breathe with me.”

Long months of obedience drilled into him, sometimes bloodily, meant Kanan fell easily into the pattern. It was easier with the other Kanan than it had been with the Hunter, as easy as it had been with Depa Billaba. With the Hunter it hadn’t been difficult – it had been easier than Kanan had liked – but his emotions had gotten into the way, fear and pain making him shy away until the Hunter had trained that out of him.

It felt like a long time before the Hunter’s presence receded from his mind. It wasn’t gone entirely – it never would but, not until the Hunter was dead and maybe not even dead; sometimes Kanan thought he could still feel Depa Billaba watching him – but the unrelenting pressure had faded enough that Kanan could think again. He took his hands away from his face, wincing when he realized he had been pressing them against his forehead so hard that his wrists ached, and saw the other Kanan crouched in front of him. The older man’s face was serious, his brows narrowed in concern. He was barefoot, his hair tousled as if he had just gotten out of bed.

Kanan looked at him and then away. He slumped back against the hyperdrive, all the strength gone out of him, because he knew.

“It isn’t your fault,” the other man said. His voice was a little lighter than Kanan had expected, familiar but not exactly identical to his own. Age, maybe, or what the Crucible had done to him.

Kanan put a hand over his face. It took him a moment to find the words, searching tiredly for them in what remained of his mind. “You didn’t.”

They were still attuned to each other, so he felt the faint buzz of the other man’s brief startlement. “It never came up,” he said.

“She said –” Kanan hesitated over the words again, then just let them spill out, knowing that the Jedi would be able to take any stumbling block from his mind. “She said he had you.”

He felt rather than saw the other Kanan’s sudden understanding, his face still turned away. “He didn’t have me for that long,” he said, his voice gentle. “We never got that far. Hera and the rest of my team broke me out first.”

Lucky, Kanan thought without saying as much, though he felt the other Kanan flinch slightly as he sensed it. He still woke up screaming two nights out of every five, and only slept through one of the other three, even with Hera in bed beside him. He had mostly stopped waking her up on the nights that didn’t involve screaming.

“She said you killed him,” he said instead.

“I defeated him,” the other Kanan said carefully. “He killed himself.”

Kanan rubbed his hands over his face, trying to get his head around that and failing. What he wanted to say was why did he hurt me and not you?, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask that question. Instead he just said wearily, “How did you know?”

His counterpart hesitated. Kanan felt suddenly sick, but couldn’t make himself look away from the other man as he said, “I felt him calling you. It woke me up.”

Kanan folded his hands over the back of his skull and bent his head down over his knees, breathing hard.

The other Kanan leaned forward and put a hand on his knee. He said softly, “Yes, I can feel that bond – there’s a resonance between us, do you feel it? An echo.”

Kanan wet his lips. He didn’t bother looking up, but he was too well-trained to avoid a response to a direct question. Touching the Force made him flinch a little – he was over-sensitive to it at the moment, between what he had done to bring the other Kanan here and fighting the Hunter’s attempt to drag him back to Mustafar – but he didn’t let himself stop this time. He felt the echo between himself and the other man without having to search for it, the Force rippling between them.

“Yes,” he said; he could sense the tie between himself and the Hunter reflecting back on the other Kanan. He had a tie of his own too, similar but not identical to Kanan’s, and much weaker. He hadn’t been the Hunter’s Hound, but there had been something there, the seed of something more that had never come to fruition.

“Did he tell you?” he had to ask.

“Tell me what?”

“When I was – when we were, I guess, you and I both – at the Temple – you know he was a Guard?”

“Yes,” the other man said. “I know he was a Temple Guard, back when he was a Jedi Knight.”

“He wanted – me,” Kanan said jerkily, “– as a padawan, I mean, back when – but if he left the Guard, he would be deployed, and he didn’t want that, and he didn’t want to take a padawan into the war. Especially because I was so young. So he thought no one else would either. He didn’t tell anyone, though, so when Master Billaba – he thought she had stolen his padawan.” He put his forehead down against his knees, breathing hard.

The Hunter had never told him this directly. He had told another Inquisitor, one of the other former Jedi, on one of the few occasions when Kanan had been injured badly enough fighting with other trainees to end up in the Crucible’s medbay. Both of them had thought he was asleep.

“He thought the Force had given me back to him,” Kanan said, the words a little muffled. “And maybe he was right, because he had me.”

He felt the other Kanan’s flinch and couldn’t tell if his murmured words were out loud or only in his mind. That explains the connection I felt…

The next thing he said was definitely out loud. “The Force is possibility, not ultimate truth. Just because something could have happened doesn’t mean it’s fated to. You and I are proof of that.”

Kanan looked up at him. The other man’s face was calm, without the slightly fanatic cast to it that he remembered from a few Knights back at the Temple. Only the scar that cut across his eyes was unfamiliar; except for the difference in scars, Kanan could have been looking into a mirror.

He looked down again. “But he found you anyway.”

“It’s a smaller galaxy than you’d think,” the other man said gently.

Kanan lifted a shoulder in a shrug. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes as he got himself back under control, a little comforted by the presence of the other Jedi here – the Force could always tell, and there was something solidly reassuring about him that Kanan hadn’t thought he would ever feel again.

“Thanks,” he made himself say eventually. “I just – thanks.”

The other man nodded matter-of-factly. “What did he want?”

Kanan bit his lip. “He likes to pull my leash,” he said eventually, thinking. “I think it was just that – I don’t think he’s realized we’re gone yet. I mean, he might now,” he had to add. He rubbed both hands back over his short-cropped hair, one thumb brushing his notched ear – the Hunter had taken a slice out of it when he had shaved Kanan’s head, his first day at the Crucible.

He glanced up at the other man and said haltingly, “He saw me a week ago – I was back at Mustafar to check in. He was never happy about me going back to Hera, but it was out of his hands.”

The other man was quiet, waiting with patient calm like a master waiting for his padawan to figure out a problem. Exactly like, in fact, so much so that Kanan shivered and looked at him from under his lashes, distracted from his own misery. He remembered abruptly what Hera had said when she had first arrived.

“You have an apprentice,” he said. “A padawan.”

The other Kanan raised his head. For a moment grief flashed across both his face and the Force, fresh enough to make Kanan wince. He knew without having to ask that Hera had brought news that the other man hadn’t wanted to hear, bad news.

All he said was, “Yes. His name is Ezra.”

Kanan couldn’t imagine trusting himself enough to train an apprentice. He wasn’t aware of saying as much out loud, but the other Kanan said quietly, “Yeah, I felt that way too for a long time. But the Force wants what it wants, and it will always have its way.” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Kanan said quietly.

The other man raised his head and considered him, the Force heavy behind those disconcerting white eyes.

I hope I don’t – Kanan thought, then choked it back. You never did know, and wondering on it was as good as asking the Force for it.

“I think you’d do all right,” the other man said. He smiled at Kanan. “You’ll know when the time comes.”

Hera sat with her family – with the other Hera Syndulla’s family – which was the most disconcerting thing she had ever done, and she included getting Kanan back in that. She knew her family, and knew that her mother had been dead twenty years and her cousin eleven. She had spoken to her father and her aunt recently enough that she was aware of a kind of double-vision, remembering Clotho and Cham as she had last seen them only a few days before. It was obvious that they were all responding a little better to her than to the other Hera, probably because she was what they had always hoped for and the other woman was so visibly uncomfortable.

Hera finally got up. “I should get some rest,” she said, making her goodbyes to the clearly reluctant Alecto and to Cham, who looked just as disconcerted as she felt.

She hadn’t gone more than three paces down the corridor before the door slid open and shut again behind her. Hera turned to see the other Hera there, the girl’s face pale.

“You don’t have to leave,” she said.

“Hera, they’re your family. Not mine. Mine are back waiting for me on Ryloth.” Or dead, but she didn’t want to say those words out loud. Instead, she just said, “You should be with your family. They love you.”

The girl’s gaze flashed sideways, so quickly that Hera might have missed it if she hadn’t been watching for it. She was quiet for what felt like a long time before she said, “I didn’t want to contact them. Not yet. I mean, I – I wanted my mother, and when you said – I wanted my mother. But I didn’t want to come here. I don’t…they want someone I’m not, not anymore.” She took a shaky breath.

“They’re your family,” Hera said again. The words came out more hesitantly than she had intended; she knew all about not wanting to face her own family, but her situation had been completely different than the other woman’s.

The other Hera lifted a shoulder in a helpless shrug. “I know that. I do. But I just…I haven’t told you everything, you know?”

Hera nodded cautiously.

“You said your mother was dead,” the girl said slowly. “I…I wanted you to see her.” She gave Hera a slightly frantic look. “I thought…as long as you were here, you deserved that.”

“Oh,” Hera said softly. “I – thank you. I didn’t realize that.” She put her hands on the other woman’s shoulders. They were the same height, though Hera actually had a slightly higher heel on her boots than the other woman. “I know it’s hard,” she said, “but you should go be with your family. I don’t –” She hesitated, trying to think of a good way to say what she meant. “I don’t want them to get so focused on me that they forget about you.”

The girl glanced down, which Hera took to mean she had noticed that too. “They’re not going to stay much longer,” she said eventually. “I mean – they’ll probably be here for another rotation or so, but we aren’t going to keep the ships linked all the time. And I’m not going back to the fleet with them, not…not yet. Maybe later, but not yet. I just – and Kanan can’t.”

When Hera frowned, she clarified, “He’s afraid that the Inquisition will come after him, and he doesn’t want civilians in the crossfire. And – I’ve seen what the Inquisition does. I don’t want them near my family either.”

Hera nodded slowly. “I understand.” She hugged the other woman quickly. “Go be with them. I do want to rest.”

The girl gave her a shaky smile. “All right.”

Hera watched her go back into the common room, then rubbed a hand over her face and went back into her borrowed cabin – she almost went into her own cabin first, then had to backtrack to the other door. She had expected to find Kanan still asleep in the bunk and froze when she realized he wasn’t there.

She stood there, staring at the empty bunk and feeling her heart beat rapidly in panic. He was here, she thought frantically. He was really here, I didn’t imagine him, I couldn’t have imagined him –

She didn’t know how long she stood there, starting to hyperventilate and too terrified to move, when the door slid open behind her. Hera spun to find Kanan standing there. He was in shirtsleeves and bare feet, his expression exhausted.

“Hey.”

She flung herself into his arms without pausing to make sure he was ready for her. He took one staggered step backwards, then put his arms around her. “I’m all right,” he told her softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hera held him close, breathing hard. “I wasn’t scared,” she started to say, then shook her head. “Fine, I was. Where were you?”

He turned his head a little, making sure that the door had closed behind him, and then said, “The Grand Inquisitor took a swipe at the kid, and I caught the edge of it.”

Hera looked up at him in alarm. “Are you all right? Is he?”

“I’m all right. He –” Kanan hesitated, then went on, “He will be, I think, but I wasn’t expecting that. It woke me up.” His shoulders slumped, and he rubbed a hand over his face. “That was tiring.”

“Well, you can go back to sleep,” Hera offered.

“I’m still a little wired,” he said, then winked solemnly at her. “Want to make out until I fall over again?”

Hera flushed and punched him gently in the chest, then leaned up and pressed her lips to his. “Yes,” she said against his mouth, putting her arms around his neck. “I’d like that.”

#cut scenes and concept writing #other side au tag #as always comments are appreciated #especially since I have to go to the doctor and I need something to look forward to

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