#the fact that there are just as many theories as to the organization of his olivers

[lorephobic]

the 5 olivers thing plagues me like i wish i could read his notes i wanna study his brain a little... in the variety article he does mention different olivers when facing different people so that might be one of the factors?

its rly driving me so crazy. i've got the whole pin board up in my head with red string connecting the dots trying to figure out exactly who our five olivers are. need an interviewer to take one for the team and just ask him to lay out the character(s) in explicit detail. i don't care how long it is. i don't care if it's boring to almost everybody else on the planet. we need it so badly.

it would help if we even had a clue about how his olivers are organized. if they're not chronological, is it by relationships with other characters? is there an elspeth oliver? a james oliver? a fucking michael gavey oliver? is it just organized by general demeanor? is oliver who desperately and quietly wants felix at oxford different from the oliver who begs to stay in felix's life before the party? are they the same? where does grave-fucking oliver fall in all of this? is he the same as bathtub, blood-sucking, obedience demanding oliver? are they all different?

[dailyrothko]

No, the Popularity of Abstract Art is Not the Result of a CIA PsyOp

If you are unlucky enough to move around the internet these days and talk about art, you’ll find that many “First commenters” will hit you with what they see as some hard truth about your taste in art. Comments usually start with how modern art is “money laundering” always comically misunderstanding what that means. What they are saying is that, of course, rich people use investments as tax shelters and things like expensive antiques and art appraised at high prices to increase their net worth. Oh my god, I’ve been red-pilled. The rich getting richer? I have never heard of such a thing.

What is conveniently left out of this type of comment is that the same valuation and financial shenanigans occur with baseball cards, wine, vacation homes, guitars, and dozens of other things. It does indeed happen with art, but even the kind that the most conservative internet curator can appreciate. After all, Rembrandts are worth money too, you just don’t see many because he’s not making any more of them. The only appropriate response to these people who are, almost inevitably themselves, the worst artists you have ever seen, is silence. It would cruel to ask about their own art because there’s a danger they might actually enjoy such a truly novel experience.

When you are done shaking your head that you just subjected yourself to an argument about the venality of poor artists plotting to make their work valuable after they died, you can certainly then enjoy the accompanying felicity of the revelation they have saved to knock you off your feet: “Abstract art is a CIA PsyOp”

Here one must get ready either to type a lot or to simply say “Except factually” and go along your merry, abstract-art-loving way. But what are the facts? Unsurprisingly with things involving US government covert operations, the facts are not so clear.

Like everything on the internet, you are unlikely to find factual roots to the arguments about government conspiracies and modern art. The mere idea of it is enough to bring blossom for the “I’m not a sheep” crowd, some of whom believe that a gold toilet owning former president is a morally good, honest hard-working man of the people.

The roots of this contention come from a 1973 article in Artforum magazine, where art critic Max Kozloff wrote about post-war American painting in the context of the Cold War, centering around Irving Sandler’s book, The Triumph of American Painting (1970). Kozloff takes on more than just abstract expressionism in his article but condemns the “Self-congratulatory mood”of Sandler’s book and goes on to suggest the rise of abstract expressionism was a “Benevolent form of propaganda”. Kozoloff treads a difficult line here, asserting that abstraction was genuinely important to American art but that its luminaries, “have acquired their present blue-chip status partly through elements in their work that affirm our most recognizable norms and mores.”

While there were rumblings of agreements around Kozloff’s article of broad concerns, it did not give birth to an actual conspiracy theory at the time. The real public apprehension of this idea seems to mostly come from articles written by historian Frances Stonor Saunders in support of her book, “The Cultural Cold War: The CIA and the World of Arts and Letters” (New York, New Press, 2000). (I have not read this 525 page book, only excerpts).

The gist of Ms. Saunders argument is a tantalizing, but mostly unsupported, labyrinthine maze of back door funding and novelistic cloak and dagger deals. According to Saunders, the Congress for Cultural Freedom (CCF), an anti-communist cultural organization founded in 1950, was behind the promotion of Abstract art as part of their effort to be opinion makers in the war against communism. In 1966 it was revealed that the CCF was funded by the CIA. Saunders says that the CCF financed a litany of art exhibitions including “The New American Painting” which toured Europe in the late 1950s. Some of this is true, but it’s difficult, if not impossible, to know the specifics.

Noted expert in abstract-expressionism, David Anfam said CIA presence was real. It was “a well-documented fact” that the CIA co-opted Abstract Expressionism in their propaganda war against Russia. “Even The New American Painting [exhibition] had some CIA funding behind it,” he says. But the reasons for this are not quite what the abstract art detractors might be looking for. After all, the CCF also funded the travel expenses for the Boston Symphony Orchestra and promoted Fodor’s travel guides. More than trying to pull the wool over anyone’s eyes, it was meant to showcase the freedom artists in the US. enjoyed. Or as Anfam goes on to say, “It’s a very shrewd and cynical strategy, because it showed that you could do whatever you liked in America.”

For what it’s worth, Saunders’s book was eviscerated in the Summer 2000 issue of Art Forum at the time of its publication. Robert Simon wrote:

“Saunders draws extensively on primary and secondary sources, focusing on the convoluted money trail as it twists through dummy corporations, front men, anonymous donors, and phony fund-raising events aimed at filling the CCF’s coffers. She makes lengthy forays into such topics as McCarthyism, the formation and operation of the CIA, the propaganda work of the Hollywood film industry, and New York cultural politics—from Partisan Review to MoMA to Abstract Expressionism. Yet what seems strangely absent from Saunders’s panoramic history, as if it were a minor detail or something too obvious to require discussion, is the cultural object itself: The complex specifics of the texts, exhibitions, intellectual gatherings, paintings, and performances of the culture war are largely left out of the story.”

Another problem with the book seems to be that Saunders is an historian but not an art historian. For me, I sensed an overtone of superiority in the tale she’s spinning and most assuredly from those that repeat its conclusion. The thinly veiled message of some is that if it were “Real art” it would not have had be part of this government subterfuge. The reality is very different. For one thing, most of us know it is simply not true that you can make people devoted to a type of art for 100 years that they would sensibly hate otherwise. Another issue is that it’s quite obvious none of the artists actually knew about any government interference if there was any. Pollock, Rothko, Gottlieb and Newmann were all either communists or anarchists. Hardly the group one would recruit the help the US government free the world of communism. Additionally, this narrow cold war timeline ignores a huge amount of abstract art that Jackson Pollock haters also revile and consider part of the same hijacking of high (Frankly, Greek, Roman, or Renaissance) culture. If you look at the highly abstract signature work of Piet Mondrian and observe the dates they were painted, you’ll see 1908, 1914, 1916. This is some of the art denigrated as a CIA PsyOP, 35 years before the CIA even thought about it. Modern art didn’t come from nowhere as many would have you believe to discredit its rise. There was Surrealism, Dada, Bauhaus, Russian futurism and a host of other movements that fueled it.

Generally, people like to argue. On the internet, “I don’t like this” is a weak statement that always must be replaced by “This is garbage” or my favorite, “This is fake.”

It’s hardly surprising that the more conservative factions of our society look for any government involvement in our lives to explain why things are not exactly as they wish them to be, given the (highly ironic) conservative government-blaming that blew up after Reagan. In addition, modern fascists have always had a love affair with the classical fantasy of Greece and Rome. Both Mussolini and Hitler used Greece and Rome as “Distant models” to address their uncertain national identity. The Nazis confiscated more than 5,000 works in German museums, presenting 650 of them in the Entartete Kunst (Degenerate Art, 1937) show to demonstrate the perverted nature of modern art. It featured artists including Marc Chagall, Max Ernst, Wassily Kandinsky, and Paul Klee, among others. The fear of art was real. It was the fear of ideas.

To a lot of people on the internet just the mentioning a “CIA program” is enough to get the cogs turning, but as with many things, the reality of CIA programs and government plots is often less than evidence of well planned coup.

The CIA reportedly spent 20 millions dollars on Operation Acoustic Kitty which intended to use cats to spy on the Kremlin and Soviet embassies. Microphones were planted on cats and plans were set in motion to get the cats to surreptitiously record important conversations. However, the CIA soon discovered that they were cats and not agreeable to any kind of regulation of their behavior.

As part of Operation Mongoose the CIA planned to undermine Castro's public image by putting thallium salts in his shoes, which would cause his beard to fall out, while he was on a trip outside Cuba. He was expected to leave his shoes outside his hotel room to be polished, at which point the salts would be administered. The plan was abandoned because Castro canceled the trip.

Regardless of your feelings on this subject or how much you believe abstract art benefited from government dollars, Saunders herself quotes in her book a CIA officer apparently involved in these “Long leash” influence operations. He says, “We wanted to unite all the people who were writers, who were musicians, who were artists, to demonstrate that the West and the United States was devoted to freedom of expression and to intellectual achievement, without any rigid barriers as to what you must write, and what you must say, and what you must do.” Hardly the Illuminati plot we were promised.

In 2016, Irving Sandler, author of the book that started Kozloff tirading in 1973, told Alastair Sooke of The Daily Telegraph, “There was absolutely no involvement of any government agency. I haven’t seen a single fact that indicates there was this kind of collusion. Surely, by now, something – anything – would have emerged. And isn’t it interesting that the federal government at the time considered Abstract Expressionism a Communist plot to undermine American society?”

This blog post contains information and quotes sourced from The Piper Played to Us All: Orchestrating the Cultural Cold War in the USA, Europe, and Latin America, Russell H. Bartley International Journal of Politics, Culture, and Society, Vol. 14, No. 3 (Spring, 2001), pp. 571-619 (49 pages) https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20161004-was-modern-art-a-weapon-of-the-cia https://brill.com/view/journals/fasc/8/2/article-p127_127.xml?language=en https://www.guggenheim-bilbao.eus/en/learn/schools/teachers-guides/the-dark-side-of-classicism https://www.artforum.com/features/american-painting-during-the-cold-war-212902/ https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/modern-art-was-cia-weapon-1578808.html https://www.artforum.com/columns/frances-stonor-saunders-162391/ https://www.artforum.com/features/abstract-expressionism-weapon-of-the-cold-war-214234/ Mark Rothko and the Development of American Modernism 1938-1948 Jonathan Harris, Oxford Art Journal, Vol. 11, No. 1 (1988), pp. 40-50 (11 pages)

[tkingfisher]

Right! Apropos another post, let’s talk about lawn crayfish aka The Lobsters Beneath Our Feet!

This is Craw-Bob. He’s about three and a half inches long.

Long ago, when I had only gardened in the Southeast for a year or two, I saw an interesting hole in a flowerbed. It was rather deep and had a muddy front porch. I gazed into this hole, thinking “Ooh! Is it a rodent? A snake? A toad?”

And then I saw…the Claw.

It was unmistakably a crustacean claw. And it was in a hole in my yard. My terrestrial yard! Why was there a crustacean in my flowerbed?!

I could not have been more astounded if an octopus tentacle had come flopping out. I ran screaming for my husband and the internet, both of whom said “Yeah, that’s a lawn crayfish, they do that.”

And yes. There are about 400 species of crayfish* in North America, and a not inconsiderable number of them are burrowing species. The devil crayfish, which builds little mud towers, ranges from the Rockies to the Atlantic and as far north as Ontario. There are a number of other species as well. Some are limited to stream banks, but many burrow in lawns, flowerbeds, and other places with consistently damp soil, which means that there is a non-zero chance that when you wander around the grass, a tiny lobster is lurking somewhere beneath your feet.

You would think that more people would know this, but at no point in my life had anyone ever mentioned it to me.

Being me, I immediately set out to determine if other people knew about lawn crayfish and I had just somehow missed it. I took an informal poll—by which I mean I accosted random strangers at the farmer’s market, the coffee shop, and my doctor’s office—and discovered a stark divide. Half the people looked at me like I was telling them I’d seen a lawn chupacabra and the other half looked at me like I’d asked if they’d ever heard of squirrels.

It was not divided by social class or education. The farmer with the heirloom breed hogs knew about them, his wife did not. My nurse practitioner first thought I was hallucinating, then went out into the clinic, and began demanding to know if her co-workers had heard of this. My barista was like “Yeah, mudbugs,” but he’s from Florida, so may not count.

My theory is that if you know they’re there, it’s just a fact of life so obvious that you don’t bother to comment on it, and if you don’t—well, why would you ever assume that any given hole in the ground comes from a goddamn MINI LOBSTER? And since they mostly just hang out underground during the day and don’t really hurt anything, it just doesn’t come up very often, until one day you’re at the farmer’s market, just trying to sell some organic tomatoes, and a wild-eyed woman with a Studio Ghibli T-shirt descends on you yelling “Are you aware of lawn crayfish?!”

(Yes, they’re edible, but it’s a lot of work popping them individually out of their burrows.)

During torrential rains, they will often leave their burrows and wander around, which is how I got the photos of Craw-Bob. My hound spotted him in the garden and poked him with her nose, whereupon Craw-Bob poked back. Hound, not sure what was happening but that it was probably bad, began doing her “release the humans!” alarm bark, and I came out to find her toe to toe with a crustacean who was waving its claws and presumably screaming “Come on if you think you’re hard enough!” in Lobster.

Despite their willingness to fight everything, they’re pretty harmless. The most they do is move soil from underground to a little pile above. I’m sure golf courses hate them. Our local county extension office suggests “These nonprolific creatures should be appreciated like an interesting bird or turtle living on the property.” Some, like the Greensboro burrowing crayfish, are so rare they were thought to be extinct until somebody found one in the backyard.

So. Lawn crayfish. They exist! And could be lurking underfoot as we speak!

*or crawfish, depending on where you’re from.

[slyandthefamilybook]

so this is something that's been on my mind for a while. I wish I could make a big magnum opus post on it but I don't have the energy

I've noticed in my travels that antisemitism seems to be one of the only forms of bigotry that's not self-evidently wrong. People may think they think it is, but I don't think they do. Every time antisemitism comes up as a topic, I see Jews sharing posts with twin explanations: one on why something is antisemitic, and one on why that's a bad thing

I've seen this a lot, and have fallen into it myself, although recently I've been trying to stop. On a post about Bibi changing his last name to "sound more indigenous": "Imagine if someone said this about Black people". On a post blaming Jews for what Israel does: "Imagine if someone said this about Chinese people". On a post accusing Jews of owning too many industries: "Imagine if someone said this about Asian people".

There was a post that went around claiming the IDF harvested the organs of Palestinians with very little evidence. (There are some great posts debunking that but that's not what this post is about.) I remember looking through the comments and one of them stuck out to me. I can't remember the wording exactly, but it went something like: "Israel heard about blood libel and thought why don't we just do that?". Ignoring the fact that blood libel is about the accuser, not the accused, this comment played over and over in my head. I thought about it as I went to sleep that night. Here was a person admitting that the thing they were saying has a strong resemblance to blood libel, but saying it anyway. It struck me that the underlying thought here was "it's not blood libel if it's true".

Once I realized that, I was stunned. I suddenly heard right-wingers in my head saying "it's not racist, it's just a fact that on average Black people have a lower I.Q.". And suddenly everything clicked into place. I know it might seem like an elementary idea, but it genuinely had never occurred to me

In the eyes of bigots, racism protects power. Antisemitism protects truth.

I've often said that all conspiracy theories eventually lead back to the Jews, and this newfound realization fit in nicely. A popular neo-Nazi slogan I've seen recently is "the goyim know". This idea that Jews have something to hide has saturated the political spectrum

Antisemitism is itself a conspiracy theory.

I realize that makes it sound like I don't think antisemitism is real. That's not what I'm saying, it absolutely is. But the way people talk about it is unlike how they talk about any other form of racism. The Jews are a shadowy cabal, who meet in secret to deplatform people who dare speak out against them. This is something we see on the right and the left, from Kanye accusing the Jews of destroying his career, to leftists accusing the "Zionists" of controlling social media.

Spouting antisemitism now becomes a moral good, a political necessity. It's the most important thing in the fight for truth

I understood then, why people on the left are so comfortable calling out accusations of antisemitism as "frivolous", "unserious", "over-used". How they think people are using antisemitism to silence them. You can't just say something is antisemitic and walk away. It won't stick. You also have to sit there on your computer for the next 2 hours, looking up sources to debunk their claims. You have to appeal to the truth. With any other form of bigotry, it's understood by leftists that whatever the facts may be, they don't excuse racism. The number of Black Americans who commit crimes doesn't justify saying Black people are all criminals. The number of First Nations people who own casinos doesn't justify playing off that stereotype. But when it comes to the Jews, it's open season. You can say anything you like about the Jews, as long as you think it's true. Being told that it's antisemitic isn't enough.

This is a great example of just that. "Yes it's antisemitic, but it's also true." The accusation of antisemitism becomes an accusation against the truth. So when it comes to people who really believe in what they're saying, it all just bounces off. This is why people never seem to learn. They hop from conspiracy theory to conspiracy theory. As long as someone assures them it's all true, the bigotry doesn't really factor. They apologize not when confronted with their own racism, but when confronted with the facts.

In this way, antisemitism has become baked into society, especially Christian societies. Because why wouldn't it? Yes, the Jew is greedy, yes the Jew is sneaky, yes the Jew is bloodthirsty. But the Jew is above all a liar. They lie about their names, their culture, their history, their victories, their defeats

I wish I knew how to end this post. Some sort of call to action, some idea of how to fix this going forward. But I have no idea. I suspect if I did, we might not all be quite where we are right now

[silversodas]

I Think There Are Actual Hints That Vox and Alastor Work Really Well Together or More Like They Have All They Need to Work Together

So we know that Vox and Alastor like to define each other by how their preferred medium is better, but what’s interesting is that’s just how they define each other, Alastor being an old fashioned radio and Vox being a sell out TV, but that’s not what they are, what they are is Audio and Video. We even see when one might have done better with the others help, like Alastor’s commercial that he did for the hotel

His Audio was fine enough, got your attention, but holy shit, the video was awkward at best, it makes you uncomfortable watching it. And it makes it even more awkward when you can tell Alastor is overcompensating with his voice. But what he did know was a little impressive, some people pointed out that he probably did the editing himself. I believe that these out of place skills such as summoning tech and knowing how it works are remnants of Vox. Just like How Vox is always Smiling when he needs to take control of a situation is remnants of Alastor

They probably learned these things from each other. As a matter of fact the way Alastor kept jumping from scene to scene in the commercial was similar to how Vox kept jumping from visual to visual in the beginning of stayed gone, going vary fast to keep attention. Speaking of which

Stayed Gone is an example where Vox is really strong in visuals, buuuuut probably needed a little help audio wise

Alastor knows how to lure you in with what you hear, Vox pulls you in with what you see, and yeah he snatches your attention right away and (like I said earlier) jumps from visual to visual and you can’t help but be transfixed

Buuuuutt that’s Vox’s problem, they are just watching, his audience can’t even grasp what the fuck he is trying to say because Vox is overcompensating with visuals, and it’s how Alastor verbally slaughtered him in stayed gone. Alastor is so charismatic and experienced with capturing an audience with his voice alone that Vox immediately loses his.

Because, just like how Audio can’t do all the work, neither can video, and one can’t overcompensate for the other, they need to flow together

But I have noticed this a while back, what made me think that they probably work really well together, or rather they have all they need to work together, is what @cringefailvox said about the different outfits that characters like Vox and Alastor wear during songs that have symbolism to it

Like how Vox always dresses as roles that are the leader or face of an organization Bishop/TV Chef/Captain. Roles that have power, but are at the whims of many people and need the approval of said people to stay in power

While Alastor is dressed in more subservient roles Nun/Busboy, roles that are essential to run the organization but often go unnoticed, but can pull the rug out from under said organization if they decide to leave. In other words, it might be symbolic that he is a support (until he decides to take it away)

So Vox being the front runner and presenter basically being everything you see (Which is ironic because Vox means The Voice) and Alastor providing support and stability (he honestly doesn’t do to bad with support, stability is up for debate though) is another way they, in theory, could make a good team.

But the team up would work just like audio and video unfortunately, video is not the most important part, but it’s the part that gets the most credit. while audio emphasis and supports video, it’s part goes unnoticed until it’s not there. And Alastor’s ego has an ass so fat it’s aw inspiring that he can fit it through the door, so that may have been ONE of the reasons he said no to joining Vox (not saying it’s the only reason or even main one)

Vox may even see the potential for exactly what their partnership could be and it’s a reason why he took it so personally when Alastor shot him down

And it’s just so interesting that Vox and Alastor act like forces that should be pitted against each other but their capabilities show that they would go together like peanut butter and chocolate (in theory)

[artigas]

I’m really happy that Black Sails is experiencing a bit of a renaissance, but (predictably) some of the takes I’m seeing online are so busted. It’s wild to me that anyone would complain about the fact that Anne Bonny kisses Jack after she’s developed this life-changing relationship with Max. It’s absolutely wild to see anyone roll their eyes or feel uncomfortable about the fact that Flint has sex with Miranda when he returns to her in season one or that Max is most likely a lesbian but actively has sex with men for pay and knows how to make that pleasurable. It’s crazy to me that some of the very audiences who claim to want queer representation feel so discomforted when they actually see the mess and seeming inconsistencies of queerness that they asked for.

The reality is that there are lesbians who have had (and will have!) meaningful, mutually-gratifying, and deeply sexual relationships with men. There are gay men who’ve enjoyed having sex with women, who are gay as the day is long and nevertheless feel sexually attracted to a woman or two and are nevertheless gay men, full stop. There are gay cis men who are happily married to trans women. There are femme dom tops and butch bottoms and there are mascs afab people who like femme boys. There are non-binary people and trans men who actively identify as lesbians. There are ace and aro people who enjoy thinking about and engaging with sex — sometimes in fiction and sometimes in real life. Queerness, in fiction and in reality, defies neat categorization. That is the beauty, power, and (perceived) unorthodoxy of queerness.

Now, I’ll say this — do I think the straight men behind Black Sails were actively thinking deeply and insightfully about the paradoxes and fuckery of queer identity when they wrote Black Sails? No! By their own admission, Steinberg and Levine have owned up to the fact that some of the writing of the show was really hinged on their own blind spots as people who are not (to my knowledge) members of the queer community. If I want to be generous, I think that the beautiful mess of Black Sails is that, in not feeling like experts enough to designate specific identity labels to any of their characters, the writers stumbled their way into more authentic representation of lived queer experience, which is to say that the notion that James Flint was actively thinking of himself as a gay man was anachronistic. As many lesbian archivists and theories have noted, the notion of a queer identity — as in, queerness is who you are, not what you do — was patently unthinkable for most cultures in the past. In other words, the idea that Anne Bonny operates in the eighteenth century as a lesbian and thus would not willingly engage in relationships with men is not only untrue of the series, but untrue of most recorded lesbian experiences in the real world. The notion that a lesbian would operate her entire life without engaging sexually or romantically with men, for instance, is a very new privilege that some of us are very lucky to enjoy, but it is not true for the vast majority of human history — hell, it’s not even true of our present world.

This is all to say that think that there’s something really funny about how we want queer characters to fit into neatly organized boxes. This isn’t a new problem, either. When the show was still airing, the BS fandom would get itself into tizzies about wether or not Flint is gay or bisexual, wether or not Anne Bonny is a lesbian, wether or not Silver is queer when his only canonical relationship is with Madi, etc etc. We’ve been having these discourses for years and I don’t know. I get that much of it is fueled by how badly some people want to see themselves represented in media, but . . . well. The siloing of queer characters and queer narratives into neat little boxes has never felt very authentic to me and nine times out of ten, it’s also just so damn boring.

[sepublic]

Interesting that pop culture portrays Van Helsing as an experienced, seasoned vampire hunter, when it's pretty clear in the novel that this is his first go around with the whole thing, his first confirmation they actually exist, and in other words he's basically winging it and hasn't necessarily thrown a punch in his entire life (Which means he can’t just throw hands with Dracula, he needs research and backup to organize the perfect trap where they won’t be instantly killed). VH doesn’t always know what’s going on, he’s figuring things as he goes along; Like yeah he's HEARD of vampires, but it's never been anything prominent to him.

If anything, his past with vampires is probably similar to a lot of readers; Familiar with the concept, knows some of the details but not all of them, and definitely presumes them fake. He sees something going on with his patient and is like Haha damn that's just like a vampire, wouldn't it be crazy if... And then he slowly starts settling into conspiracy theory mode when more and more dots show up to conveniently connect, as he does the obligatory Protagonist Searching Stuff Up bit and realizes Mein Gott!!! It might be a vampire!!!

But then at the last second VH reminds himself, Now hold on, have I actually SEEN this vampire??? But it won't do anyone harm if I added some garlic flowers, right...? And then it just gradually escalates from there into full-on paranoia and dread that vampires exist and VH needs to desecrate the dead, and then he finally gets confirmation when he sees an Undead Lucy. What the fuck.

I think there's an argument to be made that Van Helsing was doubting himself just as much as Seward and the others initially did, if not more so, and he can’t even talk to anyone about it; So there’s an elation where you finally talk to others and realize it’s really happening, you’re not crazy.

This just ties into the theme of recording that which you did see, which is indisputable, because it’s evidence and proof. So you can be certain you aren't totally insane, and can distinguish facts from assumptions and theories if necessary; Especially when one needs to consider other explanations for the same symptoms. There’s a relief confirming what is and isn’t real to dispel self-doubt, like there was for Jonathan, who also suffered from Dracula’s gaslighting distorting his perception of reality.

I think all of this makes Van Helsing's actions and secrecy a lot more understandable when handling Lucy; If you hired a doctor and he suddenly started bringing up vampires, you might be inclined to think he's insane, doesn't know what he's talking about, and has read too many vampire stories and probably believes in 'alternative' medicine. Van Helsing still has an image and reputation to uphold here, and if it's gone, he can't actually be there to help Lucy if he turns out to be right.

That isn't to say he isn't without critique, especially in later portions of the novel, but you can kinda see where this underdog stance of "I'm right and the others around me are wrong" gets vindicated and thus develops into a bit of arrogance later down the line; Particularly, in presuming his disagreements with Mina to be no different than his secrecy with Seward and Mrs. Westenra.

In the end, VH could be described as a character who wonders if he's in the novel Dracula (compared to Jonathan who knows he's in a horror story of some kind but can't name the genre), but then has to remind himself this is reality... If this is a story, it’s probably just some medical drama. And when VH does accept he's in the novel Dracula, he assumes his character development and the lessons he learns are straightforward.

[zvdvdlvr]

If youve read some of my revent work, i think you can understand my fascination with vampires (or vampyres). Butttttt i realized i hadn’t written any vamp!reader for anyone in cod or harry potter

So this is my official vamp!reader x tom riddle shit post.

I like to think that Tom realized somethingwas different about you when he couldn’t read your mind using Legilimency. It was sixth year at this point and you were a kept-together, quiet student. As a Slytherin, Tom knew your name but nevr paid attention to you until sixth year: people whispered about you when you passed by, teachers were noticeably more lenient with you on almost everything, your magic was extremely powerful and you were well practiced, and how striking your features were.

Professor privilege (or ‘special treatment’) consisted of you attending most classes but ignoring everything that was going on. You never slept- Tom noted- but were always doing somthing else. The differing activities you preformed didn’t disrupt the class, but the fact that you always did something else in every class was definitely an eyebrow raiser.

Your magic was powerful. Powerful, honed, practised, strong, and memorable. Tom was intrigued by how fluid your wand movements were, how quickly you could cast a spell, how lethal your movements were, and your ability to cast spells without a wand. As a sixth year, wandless incantations were growing more and more popular. But the fact that you could preform duels without your wand- strings of spells- without so much as a twitch of the hand was extraordinary.

Tom didn’t want to say you were pretty, but in all honesty, you were incredibly attractive in Tom’s opinion. Your sculpted eyebrows paired with the stony stare in your eyes? The way your cheekbones hung over your guant face was further enhancing Tom’s interest in you. Your chin and jawline were prominent, a perfect mix of sharp and piercing.

Going more in depth in the people gossiping about you wasn’t really necessary. Some people- boys- were attracted to your facial and body features, ‘spcial treatment’, and just wanted to have sex. Other people- girls- were jealous of the interest many of their boyfriends gave you, were jealous of your smarts, and didn’t like you. You were powerful and you knew it. People didn’t like that.

These traits led Tom Riddle to the jarring conclusion that you were a vampyre. town further prove his theory, Tom often caught a glimpse of you wandering the corridors at night, paying no mind to the prefects and head boys and girls that saw you. You conversed easily ith the portraits and spirits- even befriending Peeves.

Evan Rosier was the one to bring up your existence during a Knights of Walpurgis meeting. Tom had listened to Rosier’s ideas- involving you with their agenda and bringing you into their organization. 

Tom had his doubts. He believed that you were not the right person to try to convince. Tom protested for no real reason. He himself didn’t even know why he was tensing up around your name, growing defensive as the conversation continued. Why?

Coincidentally Tom Marvolo Riddle came across you striding into the Forbidden Forrest that very same night.

He didn’t know why he followed you. Tom didn’t know that, for some reason, you intrigued and infuriated him to no end. Why must you effortlessly best him at every activity? Why must you look so unbothered after singlehandedly destroying three seventh year Quidditch players after making a bet that you couldn’t win against them as a 3 versus 1? Why, pray tell, were you the only person on Tom’s mind after seeing your sly smirk when you stumbled across something undeniably inappropriate in your book? Why you? Why-

“Stop thinking so loudly.”

Tom stood- frozen- as you moved into an open clearing. You clicked your tongue a few times and whistled. After doing it a few times in a pattern, Tom realized you were summoning something.

“What did you follow me for?” Your voice was crisp and audible despite the distance between the two of you that was closing slowly. Tom inched forward, hesitating for one of the few times in his life.

“Why did you sneak out? I could report you to the headmaster for this. You’ve done this before, so I could get you in trouble for a long time.”

You showed no reaction as you tilted your ear up. You whistled again. “Step back, please.”

Tom didn’t know why he complied but he did. A second later, a large winged animal emerged from the trees. A hippogriff, Tom realized. “Did you hear me? I said-“

“Do even know my name, Tom Riddle?” You finally turnd around. Your face was even more haunting in the moonlight. “If you have seen me sneak out numerous times before, why haven’t you already told anyone? You have nothing to blackmail me with, so I am confused by your reasoning for following me.” You watched Tom for a second. The hippogriff whinnied shyly behind you and you immediately turned your sharp gaze away.

Tom realized that he liked your sharp eyes on him. He liked when you looked at him like you could crush him- knowing that you could, in fact, crush him. But then Tom realized that you knew his name.

You cooed and murmured something to the hippogriff that was inaudible to Tom. You patted the animal’s side and mounted the beast. You cooed a few more words at the animal before turning to Tom. “If you come with me, I can answer some of your questions. You’re an awfully curious fellow, Tom. Very smart…”

“You can read my thoughts?”

“Like an open book,” you snickered. “I’m leaving in ten seconds- as does your opportunity for answers.”

The hippogriff’s feet stamped anxiously, eargerly awaiting departure.

Tom’s jaw set. Did he really want to? He couldn’t answer the question as he took a step forward.

“Bow first,” you commanded quietly.

Withholding a scoff, Tom scoured the animal’s eyes before bending down at the waist. The blasted animal waited until Tom’s entire core burned to caw and return the bow. 

Tom struggled to mount. He couldn’t quite wrap his arm and get his leg up to the beast. He glowered, hearing your breathy chuckle. “Help me.”

Your eyes seemed to smile. You reached out a hand and waited impatiently for Tom to take it.

Despite how impressed Tom was at how easily you lugged him up, he grumbled. “Where are we going?”

“To eat,” you replied simply. “Better hold on, Tom, I ride fast.”

Tom grumbled. He didn’t want to hear the coyness in your tone at the last sentence. “I don’t need to hold on.”

Suddenly, the hippogriff lurched forward and Tom’s throat let out a choked cry. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and scooted further into you as the beast rose into the air. He grumbled some more after prying his forhead from your shoulder and opening his eyes.

“There’s food at the castle,” Tom whispered with a ragged voice. “What are you going to eat?”

“Not the kind of stuff I need,” you chuckled. “They don’t keep fresh blood for me there.”

[aquariiium]

Shidou Kirisaki killed for his son, not his wife

After a lot of thinking, I think I've got a solid theory for how Shidou's crime went. Stick with me here

His wife and 2 kids get into a car crash, and only his oldest child survives. He needs organ transplants, but due to the complicated perception of brain death in Japan, there's not enough organ donors.

Shidou starts trying to convince families of brain dead patients to sign them up as organ donors, but doesn't get the organs he needs for his son because he's not in control of what goes where obviously.

He gets more desperate as time goes on and his child's state worsens, and just kills braindead patients himself, making it seem like an accident. Again he's not in control of where the organs go, so he has to kill many people so that the organs can go to his surviving family.

His son dies during the organ transplant, or shortly after.

Shidou turns himself in because he has nothing to live for anymore.

Evidence & other details under the cut v

The car crash

In the intro of Triage, Shidou is walking home with groceries. By itself it's not weird or anything, but it could imply that his wife had the car to drive the kids to or from school at that moment.

In the scene of Throw Down where Shidou wakes up (alone, in a double bed), it zooms on broken glass on the floor. Glass in cars are made to break into pieces when they suffer shock.

In his T2 interrogation, Shidou is asked that question.

His wife and youngest kid die in the crash, his oldest kid is the only one that survives

In Triage, his youngest child is always clinging to their mother, implying a certain connection between them. (this is going somewhere I swear)

The theme of receipts being patient files is present in both Throw Down and Triage; so when this scene in Triage happens, it implies that he's giving those lives to his son. He does not do the same for his wife, or his youngest kid.

In the part where he puts his hand over his face in Triage, you can see that. Again with the 2 groups.

In Throw Down, 2 wilted flowers are under a glass case, while one wilted flower isn't. That could symbolize that 2 of them are enclosed in a coffin, and the last one isn't, even though he's already wilted.

The receipt/patient file that Shidou rips up at the end of Throw Down: it's hard to see what it says exactly (what organ IS that), but you can see that the XY chromosomes are ticked off. So unless his wife is trans (which would be great), the last file to expire, or be destroyed, or the life to die, is a boy's. That's why I keep referring to his oldest child as a boy (unless that child is trans which would be great again, but I doubt that milgram would do that). The name there says something like Rei/Kei/Kai Kirisaki. It would be confusing if both Shidou's son and Mu's victim are named Rei, but that might be the case.

Shidou tries to convince families to sign their braindead relatives as organ donors

Aesculapius:

Shidou stops asking and just takes the organs (or kills the braindead patients) himself, passing it off as accidents

Throw Down: You can see him reassuring a grieving family, and "sniffing out lies"

Aesculapius:

I think it would be weird if his "murder" was just convincing families to sign their relatives up as organ donors (even though that does count as medical malpractice)

His son dies during the organ transplant, or shortly after

Throw Down: His human-shaped flower abomination starts moving again, but after stepping out of the hospital bed, it crumbles into pieces, and Shidou is horrified. Flowers represent the lives he's cutting to add to it.

Shidou turns himself in

I have no evidence for that one, but what else would he even do. In the start of T1, he's asking for the death sentence.

Other Fun Facts:

Shidou used to cook pancakes for his kids. That's why he's so insistant on Amane trying them in minigram. (There are two plates of them on the floor.)

His children liked to draw. probably why he's started drawing as a hobby in milgram.

The intro of Triage where he's walking home with groceries is (according to me) a memory of the day he got the news of the car crash. You can see the groceries through the MV, discarded on the floor or rotting. They're pomegranates, whose insides look like human organs - and he gives the receipts for them to his son. At first it's just groceries, but then they're human lives.

The phone call translates to "Hi this is Kirisaki, I'm busy right now, please call later" or something like that, implying he was busy when someone called to inform him of the deaths.

[zaahvi]

dirthamen and ghilan'nain's intertwined history — a theory

the relationship between dirthamen and ghilan'nain within the lore has always been unclear but incredibly fascinating to me, and after these past few months of being haunted by it i think i've finally figured it out!

in this *very* long post i'll be breaking down their connections and piecing together theories to make sense of their dynamic and history, investigating the more puzzling elements of dirthamen's lore, and exploring how this all ties into the evanuris' eventual betrayal of mythal. i've kept this theory free of veilguard spoilers so everyone is able to read it!

—————

the connections

the reason why dirthamen and ghilan'nain's dynamic is often overlooked is because most of the ties they have to each other can be easily missed or are sometimes misinterpreted. there is only ONE codex entry that explicitly mentions them together, and while that is already widely discussed, there are many smaller connections between them. so here is everything i've found!

the bear mural:

this mural in dai shows a white antlered figure embracing a green bear. to me, it looks like the bear is being protective of the figure (judging by the fact that they are reaching up to it). the art style looks elven and it's used in a few locations, such as the skyhold barn...

...aaand at calenhad's foothold in the hinterlands:

and well well well, that's dirthamen's statue seated just above it...

so this mural seems to depict dirthamen as the bear and ghilan'nain as the antlered figure, specifically how the dalish may depict them in their legends:

dirthamen's sacred animal was the bear (x), (source is a dalish elf, this info is not found anywhere in elvhen lore)

ghilan'nain had "snowy white hair" and became the first halla (x), (source is a dalish elf, this info is not found anywhere in elvhen lore)

it should be said, the amount of actual elvhen lore we have is very limited, so these could in fact be true and not just misinterpreted by the dalish. though they've been twisted, dalish legends came from somewhere, and especially in ghil's example it makes complete sense to portray her as a woman with antlers and white hair when her sacred animal has antlers and white fur. and while dirthamen is mentioned only with corvids in ancient elvhen lore, they are mentioned as seperate entities than him, so the bear could in fact be the representation of himself. in any case, i'm proceeding with the assumption that this mural is indeed supposed to portray them.

so, as the figure is reaching out to the bear herself, i'm ruling out any possibility of the bear being hostile towards her. it looks like the bear is protecting her, from what? or who? above them is the moon, perhaps it's an indication that mythal is watching, and/or that the bear is protecting or hiding the antlered lady away from her?

———

mosaics in the lost temple of dirthamen:

the design of dirthamen's temple is really fascinating. there's elven imagery scattered all throughout, but mosaics of himself are completely missing. there are, however, mosaics of two other elven gods...

there are five green mosaics of falon'din... and two red ones of ghilan'nain. next to one of ghil's there is also this:

falon'din being there makes sense given that he and dirthamen were "twin souls", which we're not entirely sure what that meant, but either way they had some sort of deep bond. ghilan'nain, however... and this specific mural... less so. this art in particular really reminds me of this description of the bas-reliefs from the horror of hormak:

"The halla were different, wrong. They had too many horns, for one, and a harder, more rounded look than normal. A look that was almost insectile. And the horns themselves were longer and ridged. Organic, somehow."

so, why would dirthamen have put her mosaics in his temple? clearly they had some sort of connection, close enough that he decided to honour her within his own place of worship. you don't just put some other god in your temple for no reason, you know?

on why dirthamen's mosaics are missing:

my best guess is that they were defaced/taken down afterwards, either by his own priests or by invaders. the codex entry for the lost temple mentions madness caused by the secrets they held...

"We will not have it, will not have it! The secrets are madness in our ears, but they are ours The Highest One cannot take them from us. Only Dirthamen, our Keeper, only he And if he does not take the secrets They are ours forever."

...and unless dismembering your high priest was a holy tradition to dirthamen then yeah, it doesn't seem like they were entirely sane. for whatever reason, in their madness, they could have torn down the mosaics.

though invaders seem more likely here, simply because they would have just... done a better job defacing mosaics if they truly wanted to. and to remove only dirthamen's mosaics, and not falon'din's or ghilan'nain's.

"They will come for us in the night Those who could steal the words from our lips And our god no longer rises to our defense."

this part of the codex implies that there were attacks on the temple by those who would steal the priests' secrets, and that dirthamen would defend them against these invaders. when he was locked away, he couldn't defend them anymore, and so these attackers could have easily gotten in. interesting... breaking in and removing his mosaics but not falon'din or ghilan'nain's would indicate a hostility towards dirthamen himself, but not the other gods...

———

the sinner:

by now we've all seen this widely discussed codex entry:

"His crime is high treason. He took on a form reserved for the gods and their chosen, and dared to fly in the shape of the divine. The sinner belongs to Dirthamen; he claims he took wings at the urging of Ghilan'nain, and begs protection from Mythal. She does not show him favor, and will let Elgar'nan judge him." For one moment there is an image of a shifting, shadowy mass with blazing eyes, whose form may be one or many. Then it fades.

so apparently "taking the shape of the divine" was a crime bad enough that it counts as high treason and mythal referred judgment to elgar'nan for it, which is REAL bad. this sinner claims ghilan'nain urged him to do it, but why? one would assume the sinner didn't survive elgar'nan's judgment, and if you really wanted someone dead there would be easier ways to kill them... so to me this reads as an attempt to sow discord, either between dirthamen's worshippers or to paint them as troublesome and dirthamen himself as irresponsible in the eyes of the other evanuris? at least that's my takeaway here.

———

the next few are going to be smaller hints that basically rely on subtler location design and stuff like that. i could just be picking at nothing but it's worth mentioning either way!

ghilan'nain's grove and the crow fens:

there are two inaccesible areas in the exalted plains for which you need to complete war table missions to access: ghilan'nain's grove, and citadelle du corbeau. ghil's grove specifically leads you to two other areas: the dead hand, and the crow fens.

the crow fens are interesting because of dirthamen's connection to crows and/or ravens, as written in his dalish legend and by two of the runes from his quest:

"The revealed symbols show what appears to be Dirthamen, the elven god of secrets, on the back of a large crow."

"The revealed symbols show two ravens. One grips a heart in its talons, the other a mirror."

seems like the ravens are fear (heart) and deceit (mirror) while the crow is... idk, just some Big Bird he has. i guess.

so a location named after one of dirthamen's favourite animals right next to ghilan'nain's grove — and let's also go back to that other unlockable area, citadelle du corbeau:

there he is again! the structure is elven, maybe the citadelle was once a place of worship dedicated to him? it's interesting that it's in such close proximity to ghilan'nain's grove, and what's also interesting is the massive statue of fen'harel watching over the entire area:

finally, the description of the quest Rifts in the Fens, which covers the fade rifts in the general ghilan'nain's grove area, says this...

"Active Fade rifts has been spotted in Montevelan Village, Dirthamen's Grove, and the Crow Fens."

seems like it was mistakenly left in, but it definitely implies that ghilan'nain's grove was originally named dirthamen's grove. alright...

———

elven pantheon codex entry placements:

also a smaller one that may mean nothing, but anyway. each of the elven god codexes are scattered through the exalted plains, with four of them being located in the ghilan'nain's grove/crow fens region. these are:

Dirthamen: Keeper of Secrets & Falon'din: Friend of the Dead, the Guide — both found within the dead hand puzzle area

Andruil: Goddess of the Hunt & Ghilan'nain: Mother of the Halla — both found within the crow fens area, on halla statues standing opposite each other

these two pairings found in the same zone is really interesting, especially that dirthamen's is in an area closer to ghilan'nain's grove and ghil's is in the crow fens. :)

———

mosaic placements in the temple of mythal:

most of the elven god codexes in the temple of mythal are scattered about, with the exception of three who are bunched up in the same room together:

elgar'nan, dirthamen, and ghilan'nain.... interesting bunch to put together considering there are no documented interactions between them so far, save for the sinner codex (and ghil & elg now i guess....) in addition, there's also two golden owl (usually representing falon'din) statues flanking dirthamen and a mosaic of fen'harel to the left of elgar'nan, but those don't grant any additional codex entries.

the reason i find these placements interesting is because of the placements of the falon'din and andruil murals in the temple. they're both on either side of the door to the inner sanctum and both of their codex entries mention mythal fighting them. it just seems very deliberate to me, so maybe this is too.

———

the varterral:

i've seen a few theories about the varterral being one of the creatures that ghilan'nain created - valid, by the way, since it does look like a mix of creatures and something she may create. however...

"...On the fourth day, Dirthamen heard them. He whispered into the mountains and the fallen trees of the forest gathered, shaping an immense and agile spider-like beast. It was the varterral. With lightning speed, vicious strikes, and venomous spit, it drove back the serpent. From then on, it was the guardian of the city and its people." — Codex entry: Varterral

here dirthamen is credited with the creation of the varterral. but it's worth noting that, 1. this is a dalish tale so it may have happened differently, and 2. it's not stated that he created the first varterral or anything, just that he made one. regardless, he made a creature, and an awfully ghil-flavoured one at that.

—————

theories on dirthamen & ghilan'nain's relationship

so what we know now is that they're placed next to each other a lot, there's a mural of them embracing, ghilan'nain was clearly important enough to dirthamen for him to put her mosiacs in his temple, and she may have turned against him later.

firstly, an idea: in ancient elvhenan, a lot of the population were enslaved to the evanuris, whether directly or indirectly through a noble that served them. we don't know if the nobles, or any of the chosen, also had vallaslin like the slaves did. but consider that ghilan'nain was once a normal elf; she became an evanuris later. so the two possibilities here are: 1. she was one of these nobles or chosen, or 2. she was a slave. either way the question remains: which god does someone who makes monsters serve?

the most likely suspects:

andruil: in dalish lore ghil is often mentioned as andruil's favourite, her beloved, a huntress who served her, etc. in the elvhen story of her ascension, it is andruil who approaches her with the offer of godhood. it's possible ghil was making monsters for andruil to hunt (she is specifically mentioned in the story as hunting them,) or perhaps andruil simply intervened when the monsters were getting out of hand first, and their relationship came later?

dirthamen: ghil was a scientist... she made monsters yes, but she conducted experiments and collected research (remember the taken shape?) — she gathered knowledge. that seems just like the kind of thing dirthamen would encourage and value: maybe that's why her mosaic is in his temple, and that's what the bear mural means — he was like a patron to her, she reached to him for assistance, and he granted it?

as for the servant/slave question, i personally think she was not a slave, just based on all she was able to do (she had free rein of all those thaigs, seemingly got subjects delivered to her, had that massive gemstone wall — basically, it's clear her experiments were funded) although i do think it would be super badass if she was a slave beforehand, as well as kinda tragic. like... she broke free of her bindings and became a goddess, but eventually turned into those who once oppressed her... sigh anyway

onto some ideas/possibilities:

ghil served andruil, and made monsters for her to hunt. the connection to dirthamen isn't clear.

ghil served dirthamen freely, and he supported her research. after she ascended, she turned on him for unknown reasons. her relationship with andruil began after ascension.

ghil served dirthamen, and he supported her research, but she did technically "belong" to him. after she ascended, she turned on him, perhaps as revenge? her relationship with andruil began after ascension.

ghil wasn't aligned with any god, and could have just been a noble with her own funds. she could have interacted with and formed relationships with multiple gods, as she wasn't bound to a single one.

i personally think number 2 is the most probable here. going from dirthamen -> andruil rather than andruil -> dirthamen makes more sense, considering that the ghilandruil mural from the missing was clearly drawn after ghil's ascension (since she has her headpiece) and also, from what we've seen of ghil so far, she seems very proud of her creations. why would she want them hunted? again, the bargain she made was to destroy her creations in exchange for godhood. it was a sacrifice.

finally, considering her resources it makes more sense for ghil to have been a servant rather than a slave. what remains now is the question: why would she have turned on dirthamen?

a reason for betrayal

between the missing mosaics in his temple, ghil convincing his followers to commit crimes, and the stabbed fade statue, you can probably tell by now that something's different about dirthamen. remember the fen'harel statue looking over the citadel? there are more potential connections to solas if you look close enough:

fen'harel statues in the lost temple:

dirthamen's mosaics in the elven mountain ruins (note: these are the only evanuris mosaics in the entire area, not counting the forgotten sanctuary):

mosaics in the forgotten sanctuary (on each wall: dirthamen - mythal - fen'harel - falon'din - dirthamen)

symbol of the two ravens in the forgotten sanctuary armoury

so what does this all mean? well u/eravas on reddit had a theory that these are hints that dirthamen could have potentially been helping solas and mythal with the rebellion. remember how morrigan said it was weird the temple of mythal had fen'harel statues? and the mountain ruins were a sanctuary, so why keep the mosaics? (there are also a few other hints eravas mentioned that i missed, but these are the most important!)

and remember how i said that attackers on the lost temple of dirthamen could have torn his mosaics down specifically and left the others? and i came to the conclusion that they must have had a grudge against dirthamen specifically. well, there is some other defaced imagery... in the form of these decapitated statues of mythal:

so, why would dirthamen have helped solas? i don't know, but we don't really have explicit answers as to why mythal helped him either. and then, why did solas trap dirthamen along with the others? well, there is one last thing...

the statue in the fade: the final piece of the puzzle

and now, the part that lives in my head rent free!

if kieran exists in your worldstate, then during the quest The Final Piece you will find him and flemeth in the fade, and above their meeting ground there is a massive statue of dirthamen with a blade in his back, with blood pouring out of the wound and his eyes:

alright so to be clear this takes place in the raw fade, not the "dreaming" fade; we know the fade usually reflects the dreamer, but know less about the "raw fade" when we aren't dreaming. it's complicated, but from the random statues and scattered memories we see in the fade during here lies the abyss, it's safe to assume that some of the aspects of the dreaming fade (such as it being ever-shifting and a reflection of the waking world) are also present in the raw fade. therefore, i'm guessing that this statue's presence here is mirroring something that happened in the waking world... so what is it?

i think there are two possibilites:

someone betrayed dirthamen, and this captures the moment of his betrayal

dirthamen betrayed mythal, and this statue is a "reflection" of this

while 1 is more of a direct mirror and is more likely, we don't have that much info about who could have done that to him. yeah, ghil maybe, but she was only stirring the pot and this seems more... severe. 2 is what i believe due to flemeth's deliberate choice to use that specific area as a meeting spot. also, if one of the other evanuris had betrayed dirthamen, well solas said they fought among each other all the time, so that would seem pretty insignificant. on the other hand... mythal was betrayed by what we assume was all of the other seven evanuris. why portray dirthamen specifically?

the betrayal of mythal

so now we have the idea of dirthamen helping solas and mythal, and we have the fact that solas trapped all seven remaining evanuris for their murder of mythal, which includes dirthamen.

that is the missing piece: dirthamen helped murder mythal, despite helping her and solas, and presumably sharing their goals. why? let me go back to something i said about the sinner codex...

this reads as an attempt to sow discord, either between dirthamen's worshippers or to paint them as troublesome and dirthamen himself as irresponsible in the eyes of the other evanuris

consider that ghilan'nain and dirthamen were close, and she was this young elf who had just gotten into the ranks of the gods, probably trying her hardest to fit in. consider that perhaps she stumbled upon her friend's - and now fellow god's - involvement in a rebellion against the gods. but she was the youngest of them. she could not just go to the other evanuris and say, "dirthamen is plotting against us", because she was so new to their group that they would just simply not believe her word over mythal and dirthamen's. so what else could she do to discredit his word? cause discord among his followers, maybe? to paint him as irresponsible, untrustworthy, and suspicious?

and maybe she succeeded. maybe the evanuris found out about the rebellion, and mythal and dirthamen's roles, or perhaps only mythal's? either way, it all ended up with them asking dirthamen to join them in their plot to murder mythal - if his involvement was revealed, perhaps he was threatened or promised to be spared if he helped. either way, the question is: why did he agree? did he change his mind and side with the evanuris? or did he do it for preservation reasons? to save himself, and all he'd acquired? honestly, i cannot imagine a god who gathers secrets and knowledge agreeing to throw away his life like that.

so there you have it. i think dirthamen betrayed mythal, and solas, with a much deeper cut than any of the other evanuris could have possibly delivered. and for that he was trapped alongside them, paying the price for his treachery.

the full narrative, summarised

to break down all my theorycrafting and brainstorming in a short summary:

dirthamen was ghilan'nain's patron, until she ascended to godhood and discovered his involvement in solas and mythal's rebellion. unable to simply tell the other gods, ghilan'nain began to sow discord in attempt to discredit dirthamen's word. when the evanuris eventually turned against mythal, dirthamen went along with them in order to preserve himself, and ultimately paid the price by being trapped in the fade alongside the others. the end!

—————

final note: companion parallels

i first touched on this briefly here but i have a small theory that part of bellara and davrin's characters will be to sort of act as parallels to the gods whose vallaslin they have. what i found curious about veilguard's early marketing was the focus on companions and how important they will be, and i specifically noted the multiple times the writers said that the companions were all deeply thought through and are significant to the plot. it's clear the companions were thoughtfully crafted in order to provide different perspectives and experiences, which is why i found it incredibly interesting that they decided on two dalish elf companions — in a game about elven gods terrorising the world, you'd think that one dalish elf and one city elf could provide more differing perspectives, but bioware specifically picked two dalish elves instead. it implies that, despite their similar upbringings, bellara and davrin may have completely differing opinions about the current threat, or about solas, or something else we don't know about yet. it was clearly a very deliberate decision, and with how important the vallaslin is to dalish elves, it has to mean something.

bellara is an elven lore nerd who loves exploring ancient ruins and uncovering secrets. dirthamen was an easy guess, and the design - although new and very unique - matched up to patterns on his inquisition vallaslin. as of sept 19, it has been confirmed her vallaslin is indeed dirthamen's.

davrin is a grey warden and a monster hunter. his vallaslin design was harder to figure out, at first i thought it was june's but the lines and layout really remind me more of ghilan'nain's.

the parallels are pretty clear. bellara is more similar to dirthamen, being interested in secrets and knowledge and such. whereas davrin and ghilan'nain are at odds: davrin being a grey warden monster hunter, ghil being a blighted monster maker. one similarity, and one anithesis, which makes them unique to each other. and for all the gods bioware could have picked, to choose dirthamen and ghilan'nain... well, ghil is of course one of our antagonists, but dirthamen has no direct connection to the plot...

........ or maybe he does? we'll have to find out :)

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 4/?

Wordcount: 2,992 / 10,288

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★ ★ - Also on AO3! - ★

When the two humans left the room you quickly tried to think of a way out of this. Ford had been ignorant enough to leave the top off of the jar, whether so you could breathe or he just genuinely forgot you didn't care. 

You doubted he would care that much to leave the top off so you could get some air. He probably just forgot to put it on in the first place.

You knew the walls of the jar were much too slippery to gain any actual footing on them. When you did stand to test out your theory you realized much too quickly exactly why you weren't standing to begin with. 

Your injured ankle was quick to bring you back to reality as it squealed its discomfort. The pain splintering up your leg with fervent anger. 

When Ford had dropped you into the jar you had landed on your injured ankle. It seemed to now be coming back to bite you in the ass as you fell back to the bottom of the jar. 

You could use your hook, but you doubted it would even catch on the rim if you couldn't stand to toss it. You weren't at all keen on staying around them for longer than necessary, but maybe being around Fiddleford wouldn't be that bad. You could probably trick him to let you out. 

He hadn’t done anything to hurt you yet, but you haven't seen him behind closed doors. Your anxiety eating and worming its way back into your chest at the thought of being stuck with the two humans. 

Before you could harden your resolve and push yourself to get out of the jar despite the pain, the two scientists were back. 

The taller one, Ford, was the first to enter the room. An unnervingly friendly smile on his face. You could tell it wasn't genuine, at least not in the way you were used to. 

It was meant to put you at ease, but all it did was make you tense up and push against the glass wall a bit harder. 

The second human to enter was the exasperated assistant, Fiddleford. Despite your anxieties, he seemed the most normal of the two. 

Ford continued towards your jar, making your feelings of discomfort and fear kick up. Your hand subconsciously gripped the needle on your hip, if he was going to grab you he was going to pay the price. 

He took notice of this as he sat on a chair next to the table you currently sat prisoner on. 

“Is the needle a comforting item to you? I noticed you trying to grab it as well when I had you in my hand.”  

It felt… weird being referred to not as an ‘it’ anymore by the scientist. Sparing a cautious glance to Fiddleford you could see the man clicking the coffee machine on once again. The horrid machine whirred to life in the semi-quiet kitchen. 

“... That's none of- None of your business.” 

Of course, your voice had to crack in the middle of talking to the human. Your face would most definitely have a blush if it wasn't for the fact you were so dehydrated and angry. The embarrassment of a simple voice crack paled in comparison to the bitterness you held for this man. 

He seemed to find it humorous though as his smile widened just a smidge. He adjusted his glasses as well as he looked down at you. 

“I was told we got off on the wrong foot, my name is Stanford Pines. Anomaly researcher studying Gravity Falls.”

…Anomaly researcher? That wasn’t too far off from your guess of him being a scientist at least. It did little to put you at ease. 

“…I know.” 

You glared at the man and warily glanced at his hands. Watching as he folded them on top of each other as they rested on the table. He wasn’t making any moves to grab the jar, which was good. 

You still weren’t comfortable with him and he seemed to know it. 

Your glaring was interrupted by the sounds of Fiddleford pouring two cups of coffee before setting one down beside Ford's hand. Your gaze is now on the steam that billowed out of the cup. 

It wasn’t lost to you that compared to Ford's hand, Fiddleford only had five fingers on both. Looks like Ford was just special. 

Fiddleford pulled up a chair to the left of you but before he sat down he spoke.

”Would ya like somethin’ to drink? M’sure I can find somethin’ you could use as a cup,” 

He looked around the kitchen as if already searching for something he could use before you could even respond. 

“…Some water would be nice, thanks.” 

You spoke curtly but not without a tinge of gratefulness. Fiddleford truthfully was trying to accommodate your needs, which couldn’t be said about his friend. Whose eyes seemed to light up a bit. 

“How have you been getting water before? I’m assuming you need it regularly unless your body has accommodated to-“  

You were honestly about to tell the guy to shove it but he was cut off by Fiddleford before you could get the chance. The other man gave him a harsh glare.

If looks could kill Ford would be in the ground by now.

It felt nice to have someone in your corner for once and you turned your gaze to follow what Fiddleford was doing. Opting to ignore the other researcher in the room.

He was rummaging in what you could only assume to be a junk drawer before finding what he was searching for. His back turned to both you and Ford. 

“I think this’ll work just fine…” 

You debated trying to see what he had but you didn't want to stand. He now moved to the sink to wash whatever he had grabbed. 

”Yknow it’ll be hard for them to drink in that jar, Ford can ya let 'em’ out for me?”

Out? Fiddleford wanted to let you out. Oh, this couldn’t be any better. You could feel your body practically buzzing at the idea of getting out and leaving. 

It seemed it wasn’t lost on Ford you were excited to get out. The man gave Fiddleford a conflicted look. 

“I would rather them stay in there for now. Couldn’t you just hand it to them?”

Fiddleford finally turned around and you could see the man holding a small thimble. You had one in your house in the walls, but this one looked newer—no doubt one Ford bought to replace the one you took.

”If you don't let em’ out I will, I ain’t keepin’ our quest in a jar all night.” 

A guest was an interesting way to describe your situation. You wouldn’t exactly say you were a guest more like a prisoner. 

…You didn't say that to Fiddleford though. 

You watched as Ford sighed and screwed his eyes shut for a moment, before reaching out to the jar. Your body tensed as his hand grabbed the glass. The warmth already emitting from his skin before he had even fully grabbed it. 

He seemed to think for a moment about how to get you out. You were scared he was going to just reach in before Fiddleford piped up as he sat back down at the table. 

“M’sure you can just tip it to the side, that sound alright to you?” 

It still unnerved you to be regarded in a way that made you seem human.

It felt nice not to fool yourself, but you were much more used to Ford’s behavior until this point.

You realized you were quiet for too long when Fiddleford tilted his head a bit, making you finally respond. 

“Yeah-.. Sorry, that's fine.” 

Your voice was still terribly scratchy. Regardless you prepared for the jar to be turned on its side. 

After a few moments of hesitation from Ford, you felt your world shift. It took everything in your power to not go tumbling into the glass. Somehow you managed to stay halfway upright until it was fully turned. 

You crawled out hesitantly, keeping your eyes on both of them. Gods, you forgot just how big humans were. 

You could feel the vertigo hitting your brain and stomach as you looked up at Fiddleford. The man gives you a gentle smile before moving his hand towards you. 

Staggering backward you saw him hesitate. Focusing on his hand you saw him holding a small thimble of water. 

He didn't try to reach any closer to you. He just set the small thimble down and folded his hands back around his cup of coffee. 

You slowly walked to the thimble before taking it between your own two hands and sitting down. 

It took a considerable effort to lift it to your lips. You weren’t weak by any means, climbing and running every day tends to build some muscles. 

You were however running off of pure adrenaline and spite for the past few hours. So your body was about to collapse at any moment. 

The cold water hit your tongue and before you registered it you were gulping down the little that was in the thimble. 

The refreshing chill worked its way down your throat and soothed your throat like a mother to a child. 

Bliss. 

You were pulled back to reality as you finished what was in the thimble. Fiddleford was adding sugar to his coffee, his eyes not on you. 

…You felt a pair of eyes on you regardless. 

You didn't even have to look to know who it was, but you did anyway. 

Ford's eyes were focused on you, surprisingly not in awe or fascination. 

He honestly looked a bit remorseful, you didn't know why. 

You felt your arms shaking again and set the thimble down, the comforting weight of the metal leaving your fingertips. With nothing else to fidget with you picked your nails. 

Fiddleford was the one to break the silence with a cough, you turned away from Ford to look at him. 

“I can grab ya’ some more water, here,” 

He reached for the thimble and you steeled yourself to stay sitting. He hadn’t manhandled you at all yet, it was the least you could do to not be so skittish. 

…He didn't close the distance though, anxiety still buzzed under your skin as he stopped halfway. 

“Push it a bit closer i can grab ya some water,” 

Doing as you were told you pushed it a bit closer to his hand before pulling back. 

He was true to his word and grabbed the thimble before going back over to the sink. 

Weirdly enough it made you sheepish to be cared about this much by a human. Neither of them where reaching for you or anything, which was nice. Just not what you expected. 

Fiddleford came back to the table and set the thimble halfway to you again. 

The thimble was still cold as you took it, this time sipping on it instead of gulping it down like a dying man. 

Fiddleford took a sip of his coffee, and you decided to break the silence. 

“...I don't know how you can drink that stuff. Smells awful,” 

He practically choked on the drink as he laughed at your comment. You didn't know what was so funny about what you said but whatever. 

“Have you ever had coffee?” 

Of course, Mr.Researcher had to put his question in. You didn't forget he was there by any means but you were much more comfortable around Fiddleford. 

You chose to humor him anyway, not wanting to upset him. 

“Don't have to and wouldn't dream of it, smells all I need to know it's bitter and horrible.” 

Fiddleford wiped some coffee from his mouth as he reigned in his giggles. 

“It keeps us awake on long nights, m’surprised your not tired after all ya’ve been through today.” 

Honestly, now that he mentioned it you were exhausted now that the adrenaline had been sapped from your body. 

“...Do you want to try some?” 

You tilted your head at Ford as he pushed his cup closer to you. 

…You debated it honestly. Coffee, even though it smelt horrible and the machine that made it was loud and janky, was rare. 

Most borrowers would never have the chance to try food or beverages like this, it almost felt wrong to turn down the opportunity. 

You gave a small nod and drank the rest of the water in your thimble. Deciding you would use it to take a small bit. 

You were moving out of the cottage when you could so you might as well indulge in what you can. Maybe you could tell your family about it. 

Ford's eyes lit up a bit as he pushed it closer, seeming almost excited to gauge your reaction. 

You waited until he had his hands away from the cup before pushing off of the table and standing. 

Dipping your thimble into the dark liquid the smell was still pungent and strong as ever. It was pleasantly warm as you pulled the thimble out. 

Walking back to your spot on the table you took a small sip. 

…It was earthy and warm. In direct contrast to the water you drank earlier, it warmed your bones pleasantly. 

It wasnt bad to be honest, you didn't gulp it down like you did the water but you took a larger sip before setting it down. 

“Well?” 

Ford asked, curiosity and intrigue evident in his voice. 

“... It's alright.” 

You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of saying you enjoyed it. He didn't need to know that. 

Fiddleford smiled watching you and Ford interacting semi-normally. 

“I can dump it if ya’ want, get you some water,”

“No!- it's fine- Wouldnt want to be a bother,” 

You pulled the thimble closer to your chest, telling yourself you were only finishing it out of politeness. 

Ford knew you liked the coffee though and pushed his cup closer. Deciding if you wanted more you could have it, it was the least he could do honestly to build up a rapport after what he did. 

“Anyways. You know who we are now, can I know precisely how long you’ve lived in my house?” 

The questions you had been dreading finally started pouring from Ford. You started to wonder if he would ask any at all, to be honest.

You took another sip of the coffee to calm your nerves. 

“... I've been here the whole time, just- yknow, hidden. Like I'm supposed to be.” 

“Why-”

Fiddleford had a concerned look on his face as he cut Ford off. 

“How have ya’ survived this long on your own? Dont ya’ got any family?” 

You shrugged as Fiddleford now shot you a question of his own. 

“I mean I do, just not here. They’re in the woods, I got kicke-... moved, a few months ago.” 

Fiddleford had an expression of sympathy on his face, which you didn't like. 

You might’ve been small but you weren't some kicked puppy. You’ve survived all this time on your own you didn't need help. 

“Why did you have to stay hidden?” 

Ford finished his question while Fiddleford was too busy feeling sorry for you. You guessed it didn't help how disheveled you looked at this particular moment. That's what happens though when you're manhandled by a researcher for the better half of the night. 

“Borrowers run off of rules, it's how we’ve survived so long around humans. The biggest being if your seen, you move. Which, now that I've been seen, you don't have to worry about me anymore.” 

You finished the last of the coffee in your thimble before standing again, looking for your fishhook and thread. 

“Now hold on-” 

“This isn't the first time you’ve been seen though, why didn't you leave then?” 

You scowled and shot the man another glare, your nose wrinkling in anger. 

“Because someone took notes about me. If you publish them im screwed, and so is my entire species. I already tried to take it though, which got me caught.” 

Ford noticed you looking around and pulled something from his inner coat pocket. You immediately knew what it was by the way it glinted in the moonlight. 

Your hook. 

“Continuing off of that thought you had no right to take that!- I worked hard to make it!” 

You grew bolder as you walked over to him. Now standing by his coffee cup a few inches short of his hand that rested on the table. 

He held up his hand in a placating motion as you took out your needle. 

“Stanford!-” 

Fiddleford spoke irritated and shocked at him having something of yours. 

“I'll make you a deal, calm down first.” 

You stopped advancing for his hand, even though the idea of stabbing it sounded amazing right now. 

“I'll get rid of the page in my journal, if you stay and let me keep learning about you. I can give you all the food you need, you don't even need to hide in the walls.” 

You felt the anger leaving your body a bit at that. Leaving in its wake confusion. 

“... What's the catch?” 

“No catch.” 

He held your fishhook out to you. Holding it a few inches short of your body. 

“... I'm not a housepet. I don't need to be fed. As long as the page is gone'll stick around I guess.” 

Fiddleford spoke up again, shocked at the discussion he was hearing. 

“Fords gettin’ rid of the page regardless. You don't haveta make any deal. We would love havin’ ya around but nothins holding you here.” 

You kept eye contact with Ford as you looked at your fishhook. You heard what Fiddleford was saying, but the idea of cementing the page being gone fulfilled you more than an empty promise. 

You reached for the fishhook, feeling the cold metal under your fingertips. 

“Deal.” 

--

woof im going to bed oh my goodness..,,

TAGLIST: @i-am-tiredd / @kmsthisyr

[vanillablankcanvas]

Part 8 Trolls Headcanons/ Theories/ Thoughts/ Ideas

Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4 Part5 Part6 Part7 Part9 Part10

Queen Barb - messing with the Rock String made Thrash lose his mind and made Barb more aggressive. Notice they both seemed to be more level headed after the strings were destroyed?

Riff - studying to work in Aged Care. His studies are sponsored so that he can look after King Thrash.

Classical Trolls - hosts the Trolls version of the Met Gala. All the tribes leaders and their entourages are invited. Also huge names in each genre are invited; Brozone, Sugar Gals, Bad Hair Day, Val Thundershock. (The MeTROLLpolitan Museum of Art 😆)

Trollings - can't make their hair into a gradient style until they are older. (survival/camouflage situations they can do, but only temporarily)

Putt Putt Trolls - use the courses tokens as general currency.

Viva - blows raspberries on peoples cheeks/arms/stomachs to show affection.

Viva - likes to collect 'things'. (Canon?) Never know when you might need the thing again. It can be reused for a different purpose. Side effect of trying to survive. Borderline hoarder. Clay does it too, he is just more organized about it.

John Dory - sometimes refers to himself in the third person. "John Dory doesn't need a map!"

John Dory - doesn't 'get' modern art, pretends he does so people don't think he's dumb.

John Dory - will try to use fancier sounding words in a sentence, thinking it makes sense. It doesn't.

Clay - has a lot of energy. When he isn't dancing, he fidgets, taps his foot, bounces his knee, drums pens.

Clay - has many, many of the same sweater romper. All of them are different shades of green.

Clay - eventually hires an assistant. The assistant is mentally prepared for Clay to be a dictator of a boss. They are shocked when Clay keeps saying things like "Have you had a break yet?" "I think you need a day for your mental health." "Yes, that's how much I'm paying you. How are you going to save for your own pod if I pay you any less?" (I have designed him, I've called him Rye if anyone wants to see him)

Floyd - used to busk to earn extra cash (based on that one concept art)

Floyd - felt he needed to start a solo career because he wrote a lot of songs that JD didn't pay attention to.

Floyd - did in fact live with the other Troll tribes for a while. Hard Rock Trolls were the last ones he met. This was where he met his manager/mentor. (Have also designed him if anyone is interested)

Bruce - all the kids now request Brozone songs instead of lullabies.

Bruce - opened the restaurant before he met Brandy. Used all the money he had left from Brozone to open it.

Bruce - teaches his kids about body positivity.

@jorjafrozen 🤪

[sgt-tombstone]

imagine task force 141 as a band. which instruments would everyone play?

I feel like a lot of people have thrown in their two cents on this so I won't have anything really groundbreaking to add, but I'll definitely add my thoughts!

Soap is the bass player and sometimes does backup vocals, but his main job is to get shirtless and rock out like it's nobody's business. He's the most animated on stage and loves the attention from the fans, especially when he gets a little (a lot) sexy with it. He's an attractive man and he knows it, and he's going to use it to his advantage.

Gaz is the lead singer. He's the heartthrob of the band, even though he refuses to believe it. He and Soap constantly bounce jokes and quips back and forth to each other between sets, and he loves engaging with the audience as much as he can. He used to love crowd surfing, too, but he got dropped one time and Price doesn't let him do it anymore.

Ghost is the drummer. He sits at the back of the stage, out of the spotlight, and keeps an eye on his team. He wears a skull mask and all black and the fans absolutely eat it up. There are a million and one theories about who he is, what his name is, what he looks like, etc, and the band refuses to confirm or deny any of them. No one has ever heard him say a word, but they know he can talk, because he occasionally pulls Soap or Gaz down to whisper something in their ear between songs. His wiki page is almost completely blank, and any fan theories that get submitted very quickly get taken down because Soap fact-checks the page religiously (which leads to fan uproar whenever someone adds a random fact that actually stays up, indicating that it's true).

Price is, of course, the band manager. He organizes everything; venues, contracts, tours, etc. He's fiercely protective of his boys and will absolutely go to bat for them over the smallest things. He's the type of manager who will add tiny details into their show contracts to make sure the venue staff actually read and pay attention to them (if there isn't a pack of Hobnobs for Ghost waiting for them backstage, they don't play the show, because it means that the venue didn't read their safety requests either). He has a bad habit of smoking cigars backstage, and he has just as many die hard fans as the main members of the band, despite never appearing on stage.

Laswell is their lawyer, and god help anyone who tries to fuck with them. She and Price work very closely to make sure that their boys are always protected, and she takes even less shit than Price does. She doesn't travel with them, and in fact isn't even based in the same country, but she's the only one Price trusts to get them out of any sticky legal situations, which she does flawlessly and without fail. Whenever they go on tour, they make sure to plan a stop in the city where she lives and they always dedicate the show to her.

[billy-cockblock]

SWTD Theory

Still Wakes the Deep has been a huge brainworm for me the past few weeks, so I wanted to make a post with one of my takes. Someone’s probably thought of this already, but I can’t find anything about it, so here I go. 

I’m gonna take this time to shout out a little sub theory of mine that plays a bit of a part in my main point. 

For a little background, in populations of organisms, there are limiting factors on their growth and spread. Think of it as a series of funnels of different sizes: the rate of liquid that can flow through is going to be determined by the narrowest funnel. For example. if there’s a population that has ample food, space, and whatever else it needs, but has a restricted access to water, that water is going to limit how large that population could grow.

Before the Shape was dug up by the drill, it was probably dormant in the sea bed, doing its best to survive, the same as any other organism. Down where it was dark, wet, and cold, I think it had one main limiting factor: oxygen.

I don’t think the Shape can efficiently exchange gas underwater. Most of the untouched bodies Caz sees are only underwater, where an organism that thrives in air would struggle to access. Once it gets dug up and brought to air with plenty of organic matter to consume and grow with, its population explodes. When a limiting factor is removed, there’s nothing holding the population back any more until they hit a new limit. The Shape’s old limiting factor was removed, and it would only stop reproducing by running out of space to grow on the rig, running out of organic matter to use, or being killed (like, say, in a giant fiery explosion).

(I could go on and on about how the Shape potentially works, please feel free to ask me about it)

Now, I’ll get to my main theory:

I think Caz was dead the whole time.

Now, I don’t mean that in a “the whole game is in his head, none of it was real” way; I mean it in a “this man got Ethan Winters’ed” way. 

So, I started to do a little research into how tall oil rigs are to know how far Caz would have fallen off the helipad. I quickly learned there are many types of oil rigs and not every oil rig of the same type is the same size. I’m studying marine biology, not petroleum engineering like my brother, so I got tired of trying to guesstimate how tall the Bierra D’s helipad would be and attacked the problem with some simple math. 

Watching a video, I saw he fell for between 4-5 seconds; the acceleration due to gravity is 9.8m/s^2. Plugging that in a calculator while not accounting for air resistance to solve for distance gets me ~80-120m, depending on if I used the 4 or 5 second count, so I’ll guess around 100m. I’ve found many conflicting sources on what the tallest heights you can safely fall into water are, but I can safely tell you that 100m is much higher than any of them. 

Now, maybe the devs weren’t going with the mathematical exact timing it would take for a guy to fall off an oil rig, and didn’t mean for it to be implied that he fell from THAT high. Still, we can agree he fell from very high up, high enough to have likely ended in injury. Maybe he’d just fall on and break a leg? Maybe an arm or some ribs?

After falling off the rig, the last frame before Caz blacks out shows the water at the top of the screen, meaning he hits the water head-first. He may be wearing a hard hat (that somehow stays on his head through the whole ordeal since he clips his flashlight to it), but he still should have cracked his skull open or broken his neck. 

When they pull him out of the water, he’s cold and not breathing, which wouldn’t be unusual for a drowning victim in the North Sea in the dead of winter, but it would usually be a death sentence. They never explain how they dragged Caz out of the water, but it would presumably have taken a long time to get him out, and time is key when dealing with someone who isn’t breathing. The fact that he’s able to cough up water and start breathing on his own is a miracle, since it doesn’t sound like Brodie or Douglas do CPR when they bring him inside.

So, fall damage, head and/or spine injury, drowning, and hypothermia. By several different factors, Caz should be a very, very dead man. So why isn’t he?

My theory is that, somehow, somewhy, the infection from The Shape healed and brought him back to life. We know for a fact it has amazing generative properties, basically able to double, triple, quadruple the amount of tissue and organic matter in the crew’s bodies with no regard for conservation of mass, so what’s just a little regeneration of damaged tissues in a single body? Once Caz’s body gets someplace with better conditions suited to life (inside where it’s warm and there’s air), it just jumpstarts his body functions. The Shape’s presumably been dormant in the seafloor for a long time, so it could be able to go dormant and kinda “come back to life” as conditions change, similar to a tardigrade, and potentially pass this ability onto its hosts.

And Caz mentions how his head hurts a lot, especially when he gets close to the Shape. 

Now, this might seem like baseless conjecture, and y’all might say “That’s a good headcanon, but there’s no evidence that The Shape could bring people back to life!” to which I would say “Oh, but there might be!"

After the helicopter on the starboard side, we get a call from Bruce, who is actively drowning. Through his gasps, he tells us that O’Connor hurt his leg and couldn’t swim, presumably drowning. And guess who we see still kicking as we’re passing through the pontoon? My thought is that O’Connor couldn’t swim, drowned, and drifted to the bottom, landing on a part of the shape. Once Caz and Brodie start working in the legs and they drain, it exposes him to air and allows the shape to start growing again, assimilating him and bringing him back to life. 

Obviously, he’s not doing as well as Caz is. My thought was that, if Caz died as he was infected, the infection would’ve had to put a lot of its energy into bringing him back, not leaving much for itself to begin assimilating him into the Shape. Since O’Connor was in direct contact with the Shape, it could hook him up to its network to help supplement that loss. Caz, meanwhile, stays as far away from the stuff as he can and doesn’t even get anything to eat all day; guy's running on empty. He has small things where the Shape affects him, like the colors at the edge of his vision, but most of his hallucinations only happen after the Shape attacks him through O’Connor. Before, I’m pretty sure the largest incident (other than when he’s blacked out) is when we can barely hear Suze’s voice over the speakers when moving through the pontoon. It’s really only after getting attacked that he starts to hear her when he’s awake, near the Shape, or over phone calls. He only hears her clearly over the speakers in administration after he runs into the shape many times when he gets swept away in the flooding.

With my main evidence out of the way, I’ll also mention that Caz sees the “light at the end of the tunnel” from the end of the game in the oil flashes when he blacks out.

But hey, that’s just a theory. 

A GAME TH- I have received a cease and desist.

Man, this became a long read. Thanks for getting this far, and I hope you enjoyed!

[ryuseiired]

"wait, why does jackalope say mikoto is at the top of murders?"

I've seen a lot of people confused about this so I thought I'd make a post on why I personally think this comment makes sense and isn't, like I've seen a few people get worried about, implying anything new or even especially large about his murder count.

My take, heavily influenced by this post, is that Mikoto has killed three people. The post referenced points out that MeMe shows three murder scenes with discrepancies– using the images they do as reference we can see two clear and notable differences in location, and one scene where the outfit has changed and lacks the hoodie.

(As a side note, if we take that post's proposal as to who committed which murders– one by Mikoto and two afterwards by John– I wonder if this shot from Double with two mannequins next to him implies John's actual kill count? Not particularly relevant to the overall point but I thought it was interesting.)

So... three total murders would technically mean the Kayano system meets the criteria of "three or more" murders to be a serial killer. But I don't actually think it's as bad as a lot of people assumed from Jackalope's words. He's not a super prolific serial killer or anything, only just barely meeting the criteria. Three isn't that big a number in the grand scheme of things, it's just that it's large enough to put him at the top of MILGRAM.

Most other prisoners only have one victim. Haruka, excluding what's implied regarding animal death, appears to only have one human victim, that being the little girl who appears in his MVs. Meanwhile Fuuta, Muu, Mahiru, Kazui, and Amane all have made it pretty clear at this point that they have singular victims– Killcheroy, Rei, Mahiru's boyfriend, Hinako, and Amane's mother, respectively.

This leaves only a few others with unclear victim counts.

Yuno isn't clear on how many abortions she's had, only states that it's her crime and that it was the result of "lots of sugar-daddying". Whether or not she actually got pregnant and had an abortion more than once over the course of the compensated dating is left uncertain. She could be among the prisoners with one murder, or could have multiple.

Kotoko could either have one kill or two kills depending on what you believe about Deep Cover. If I remember right the guy she beats up in the alleyway during Harrow doesn't die, we only see a news article saying he's been hospitalized? I can't find the source on where I saw this though so take it with a grain of salt. The fact she did kill the guy in the hoodie, Kaneshiro, is indisputable.

The question becomes, if she was tried and found innocent for it already before being put in Milgram, was that really all she's in for? Most of Deep Cover takes place afterwards. Either believing the theory that she indirectly or accidentally got Lucky killed, or simply using the circumstantial evidence that it seemed like she was going to hunt down someone else towards the end of the MV and the prisoner card doesn't look like the warehouse she killed Kaneshiro in, I personally believe Kotoko has two victims.

Nobody seems to really know how many people Shidou killed, but it's also pretty heavily suggested that it's a lot, judging by how many people and/or organ donor cards we see in Throw Down and Triage. He is usually assumed to have the most murders out of anyone in Milgram, which I personally agree with.

This leaves us with a kill count ranking that looks something like:

Shidou (many, many victims)

Mikoto (three victims)

Kotoko/Yuno? (one or two victims?)

Everyone Else (one victim)

This puts Mikoto, assumedly with three kills, at the second-highest kill count in Milgram, but Jackalope isn't implying an unreasonably high number by pointing out how far up he is. Nothing more than what was already shown to us in MeMe, anyway.

And while I can't speak on this. the exact wording Jackalope uses in Japanese may not imply he has the most or is at the top anyway, just near it. Which would be consistent with him having second most!