#the way they bully angela here is so great (and you wonder how it took til smosh to realise bullying was her love language!)

[docholligay]

In The Desert

My second of three eventual Passover fics, finally done, if literally nothing else. 4,500ish words, and I hope you enjoy it at least somewhat! 

Moses never saw the Promised Land. He guided others to it, but he died before he ever set foot in that promised space, before he ever was allowed to know the feeling of safety and peace and home. To reach the goal he had longed for. 

Mercy tried not to think too much on this, and told herself often that the Promised Land was only a place, and maybe it was Moses’ short-sightedness that did not allow him to see that the Promised Land was had while he wandered, in the arms of his wife, in the giggles of Jewish children knowing what it was to grow up free, in knowing that he had guided his people to something far more frightening but far greater. To inspire them to live a life of uncertainty, with great risk, but great reward. The Promised Land was where you found it, Mercy would say, often. 

Sometimes she even believed it. This year was harder. 

Was he ever resentful, she wondered, absent-mindedly setting the low table, for the punishment? That for one moment, he reacted in anger and bitterness instead of in patience and grace, that he lashed out, and so was barred from the doors of promise forever? Mercy thought on these things, and her own trespass against God, wondering which had kept her wandering all these years, without the promise she had so hoped for. 

Sitting in Canada with her small second Overwatch, the way forward had seemed so simple. She had escaped the bondage of loneliness, and now there was only to keep going, to increase that family around her, to grow in love, even to hope for that thing she had imagined might be lost to her for so long, something she hadn’t dared hope for. She loved her Overwatch family. She loved her wife. She loved for a child. Now she could see it all growing further away, a golden land that she, like Moses, would only ever see others enter. 

Tears filled her eyes as she considered it, blurring the fork she set down on the table. The day was rainy and cold, even for the general London April, and it went all the way through her, darkening and covering any warm space she may have been able to find within herself. 

It was a year of failures. The same ones, over and over again, of bodies as quarrelsome and betraying as the Israelites, of ground being lost and joy being further and further away. This was meant to be a day of celebration, of freedom, but it all felt so empty, the freedom of a stray dog without home or comfort. 

There was a knock at the door, and Mercy stood up straight, adjusting her sweater and tucking her hair behind her ears. There was no reason to ruin the day for everyone else, even if she could not find the joy for herself. When one is happy, it is easier to serve God and your community, she had read, from some rabbi, somewhere, and she did not deny that this was true. 

Why then, had God denied her so much? 

“Ang!” There was a bright, high peal through the entryway as Tracer sat on the small chair next to the door, taking off her shoes slowly, “Sorry, took us a bit--” 

“We’re on time, Lena.” Emily smiled as she hung up her jacket. 

“Oh. Right then, me planning is as bang on as ever,” She laughed merrily, “Entirely didn’t assume I’d missed the mark, exacting as I am.” 

“You’re early.” Mercy touched at the edge of the couch. 

“Someone tell Fareeha, she’ll want to note this in the official Overwatch ‘istory.” 

Emily took her shoes from her and set them in the rack. “She’ll only be telling you you’ve no excuse hereafter.” 

Tracer shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Bloody fucked every which way, I am.” 

Yes, Mercy’s mind answered, you are. 

 It’s clearly degenerative and aggressive, whatever got set off. The seizures will get harder to treat, and the tremor, not to mention we have about a whack-a-mole’s guess at what it’ll start going after next. I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t think it’ll affect her cognition, luckily. Or unluckily, I guess...

She heard Pradeep’s voice echoing in her mind, and did her best to shake it off. She hadn’t given up yet. Things weren’t so bad that they could give up yet. There was still a chance, however small, wasn’t there? Even if they could just arrest it, just stop it where it was--her eyes flickered to the brightly colored cane Tracer’s hand reached for, more commonly carried than not now--she could live out the rest of her life in relative happiness. She could see it, in her mind’s eye. That golden strip of promise just beyond the horizon. 

But she hadn’t been able to touch it, no matter how many specialists she bullied into consulting with her. No matter how many papers she read. No matter how long she walked and how fervently she prayed. 

“Ang?” she looked up, and realized that Tracer was now standing in front of her, a puzzled look on her face. “You alright, love?” 

Mercy shook her head. “Of course, only I am lost in my mind. Tired, I think.” 

Tracer looked at her for a moment in that sharp way she had, eyes flitting like a hummingbird across Mercy’s face, but she was saved by a knock at the door, and the further entrance of Dva and Winston, chatting amiably as Winston carefully sidled into the apartment, McCree a short but meaningful distance behind them. 

There they were, an assembled party, still crossing the long desert, signs of promise beginning to pop up around them. Since the battle for London, the world had taken a different view of them, an altogether kinder one. Pharah had her office building, constructed where she had always hoped. McCree had gotten a pardon from Interpol itself. Tracer had been offered damehood, which she had rather aggressively rejected, and the Victoria Cross, which she had aggressively accepted. All of them where heroes worldwide, their work seen for the long journey it had been, and honored. Mercy should have every reason to be pleased. 

Professionally, her life had never been better, or the way more clear. 

“Angela,” her wife’s voice pulled her out of the thought, “the family, I think, is assembled.” 

She said it with a half-smile as she looked over to the strange assembly that filled the room. Mercy nodded, and watched as Pharah walked over to the table she had built with her own hands, in the center of the living room. There was a bubbling sort of excitement among all of them, and why wouldn’t there be? It was the first Passover in Pharah and Mercy’s new apartment, the one built on the bones of the old. Life had been destroyed and life had been rebuilt into something more suited for them, something better. Renewal. Hope. Mercy could see it all, and reminded herself of it, as Pharah playfully bickered with Tracer before grabbing her by the armpits and thumping her to the floor, back up against the couch. The rest of them settled in their own spots, on the floor, looking over to Mercy from time to time. 

A perfect Seder, with the people she loved, and yet her eyes wandered to the corner next to her seat, the one she hadn’t even realized she had left clear. There should have been something, someone, there this year. She had prayed for it, she had pleaded for it, she had given and fasted and hoped for it. And yet the corner stood empty. The promise was for other people. 

”It’s not surprising given your advanced maternal age,” she said it gently, but Mercy still winced, “and...some of what you’ve been through.” 

Mercy was not now, and had never been, ignorant of certain medical realities. Her entire life since she was a child, had been the understanding of such things, and the painful knowledge that very often what we wish was true directly contradicted what was on the chart. The doctor kept talking, and Pharah squeezed her hand. 

Pharah. She’d offered to be the one to carry a child, despite it not being her immediate inclination. Mercy had never been able to find the words to tell her that she needed to be the one to do it. That she had lost her entire family all those years ago, and needed to be related to one other person on this earth, and to know that. Even she didn’t understand it completely, only knew that it had driven her onward. Only knew it kept her coming back to this office to be told that the best they could do was keep going. 

The best she could do was ignore the chart. 

She should have filled that corner with something other than her own empty hopes. She blinked back the bitter saltwater of her own affliction, and began to walk toward the table. 

“Pesach is a story of the impossible,” she sat herself down next to Pharah, but just kept staring at the Seder plate in the middle of the table, “We were slaves. We could not be bringing forth our own freedom. Only God could do that, and there was no reason to believe he would be doing it at all. We had been in bondage for so long. There was no reason to believe God would be giving us the Torah. There was no reason...to believe that we would be here. No reason there should be any Jews left at all.” 

Mercy wished one of them would stop her, that one of them would recognize the ramble for what it was was. Mercy barely understood it herself, and anger touched the edge of her mind as she considered all the things God had done but also all the things that he had chosen not to do. He had chosen to allow the Holocaust, and where had their deliverer been? He had allowed the Jews to be blamed and pilloried for the failings of AI technology, in both the fringes and, more quietly, in the larger community. He had allowed them to be shot while they worshipped, or bought groceries, or simply lived their lives. He had allowed Mercy to hear every suspicion and cruelty of the others in the labs and offices, who could not imagine the blonde, blue-eyed woman next to them could possibly take offense. And then, he had allowed Mercy’s house to be bombed, twice in her life, he had allowed her wife to be tortured, he had allowed Tracer to suffer, and he had allowed Mercy to remain childless.

“Why.” 

The fifth question, left out of the Haggadah. 

She looked around the table at them. 

“Why did he save us? And then, sometimes, why did he not? I--” she shook her head, “am never understanding the reasons. Why. I am only always asking. Why.” 

It was a why to God, for certain, for all the things she thought but good not bring herself to say, but a why to herself as well. Why had she stayed? Why did she pray every morning, why did she say Shema before she laid down at night? Mercy would have been the first to say that it wasn’t about God, but also she could not have answered what it was about at all. What did she find in her prayers and her study, knowing so keenly that God would not hear her, had not heard her cry for years? 

Perhaps that was what drew the Jewish people together--knowing God will not listen, and saying the prayer anyhow. Knowing that to be a Jew was to live in danger, and to wander, but refusing to be anything else. To never stop asking, no matter how silent God became. 

Even David, knowing God would punish him with the death of his child, had kept pleading, and fasting, and praying, to the very end. There had always been the chance God would turn back. 

“We’re outmanned, outgunned, and those things can keep coming--” 

“Didn’t say we was going to win did I?” Tracer’s eyes narrowed and her voice raised, pulling the attention of the room back to her. “Said we was going to fight.” 

She looked out over the tightly assembled group packed into the room. 

“Some of us will die today. Likely a good number of us. ‘E’s right you know. There’s no reason to believe we can take the advantage over them. Every reason to believe that London is going to be nothing but a pile of rubble and fires at the fag end of it all. But I,” She thrust her finger into her chest, “am not going to give over this city bloody quietly. It’s a part of me, innit? And we’re a part of it. Can’t untie the Oxtons and England, and I don’t mean the bloody Crown, and I don’t mean the bloody government, I mean England.” 

Tracer paced across the top of the bar. “I am fighting for England, and for London, and what that is, is every kid running out the schoolyard, every pissed stumble ‘ome, every day of our lives, THAT is London. And England. We are London. We are England. Not anything or anyone official. Not Parliament. Not the fucking royals. You and me, and your dad, and mum, and this grotty little pub, and me footie team, and the greengrocer down the way, and Alfie’s flower stall, THAT is England, and I won’t let anyone, or anything, take this place I love, while I still draw a breath in this world. I won’t ever surrender. East End gets flattened, East End gets the worst of it, but we don’t roll over and give it up. We never ‘ave.”

She stopped for a moment, then nodded. “And I won’t start now. I can’t win, maybe. But I guarantee you, I can give them the worst day of their lives, and even if they stomp over these streets, they’ll remember my name. That’s what we’re fighting for. Not because we can win. Because we fight for what we are. 

Mercy gave a weak chuckle and shook her head. “We are telling this story not to answer these questions, but to keep asking them. We are telling it, to give our own answers. God--” her voice caught, barely believing herself in that moment, “--God is revealing himself, in us, all the time. We, we are God’s hands, and God’s eyes, and...his words, when we remember. When we can be seeing the midrash in our lives.”

She took a deep breath. 

“Tonight we remember that we are free. Tonight we remember the things that make us slaves.” 

____

The smell of brisket filled the air. Pharah’s timing had become more and more impeccable over the years, throwing herself into the celebration of Passover, a love letter to her wife written with the greatest tenderness in pan sauce and flourless chocolate cake. Mercy had always, truthfully, questioned the wisdom of the most serious of plagues being recounted as they were on the edge of the feast. But perhaps that was the point of it. Perhaps it was about being kept waiting for your desires, your hopes. Perhaps it was about wondering if it would ever come. 

“Aaron said to Pharoah, the worst would be coming. That God would take the firstborn of the Egyptians, but that the Hebrews would be spared, if they were marking their doors with the blood of a lamb…” 

Sacrifice. Something always had to be sacrificed. A lamb. A child. A friend. Perhaps this had been her downfall, that she was unwilling to sacrifice anyone. She would never be Abraham, committing her dearest loves into harm. She wanted to save them all, and she had been punished for this disobedience, all those years ago when Overwatch fell. They had made something ugly of her love. Maybe God had seen her, and decided what the sacrifice would be for her. 

Maybe God would take the firstborn, however Mercy felt about it.

It would be easy to blame God for that empty corner of her living room and her heart, for it was all within his power to give. But the things that happen to us are rarely laid at God’s feet alone, and Mercy imagined her own moments of frustration, of foolishness, and wondered, which one was it that had brought her to this moment? If she had wanted to have a child, why then had she spent so long pursuing her work, running through war zones and long nights in laboratories? She should have known there are some things which still have a time limit. She should have known there was no guarantee. 

But if God had not wished it, why had he sent her Pharah? It was already to already believe her chance lost, but to show her that sliver of what might be, that green and verdant edge at the horizon of the desert, that was crueler still. 

She understood why some of the Hebrews had returned to slavery. It was easier to never know what you were losing. What could be lost. 

Tracer twisted against her back uncomfortably for a moment, but focused herself and shook her head. “I don’t understand why the first-born ‘ad to die, God being mostly angry at Pharoah.” 

“It was no longer a warning.” Pharah took a sip of wine. “There had been nine warnings. It was a punishment.” 

“‘Ardly seems fair to punish the lot of them for a bit of governmental wankery. Some ordinary Egyptian’s not keeping the ‘ebrews enslaved.” 

“But I doubt they protested the murder of the Hebrew sons. It is a kind of blood for blood. That they had so many chances to avoid that is a mercy in itself, God would have been right to kill their children first off. Justice. ” 

“No, isn’t justice. Revenge. Eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, Fareeha. Think you’d be defending your countrymen a bit more.” 

Pharah smiled and leaned toward Tracer. “Some of us are not compelled to excuse our country’s imperialism, and violence.” 

Tracer leaned back against the couch. “Alright, fair cop and well ‘it, but I am still right about the firstborn, Fareeha.” 

Her own Hilell and Shammai, ever arguing, ever debating, ever loving each other. She had watched that grow and bloom, too, over the work of years, step by step as they wandered together through an uncertain land. She had doubted, when she first fell in love with Pharah, that anything other than the glue that was Mercy would keep them together, but that had been arrogance. Tracer was more loveable than she seemed at first blush, and Pharah more loving than most would have imagined, and the two of them had grown together, though never in quite the same direction. 

Tracer was right, of course, that there was something unjust in taking something so precious, for a casual sin. Pharah was right, of course, that the sins of the community must be borne by the community, too, and that there had been so many chances to turn back. Did God ever owe them an apology, for such rashness? Or worse, for such calculation? It was one thing to act in anger, it was another to take something so precious so calmly. 

Perhaps the worst of it was that he was not angry at Mercy at all. Perhaps it was only that simple, calculated punishment that led her to this day, to the taste of saltwater and horseradish even more bitter on her lips than she had believed possible. It purged her mouth of the sweetness of the wine and the richness of the meat, leaving only that acrid dryness in its wake. 

Perhaps the worst of it was how angry Mercy was with him. 

The plagues passed. Freedom was had, for some, but even as the meal passed in front of her, Mercy kept thinking only of her own bondage, of the unanswered cry to God. She saw it in the empty corner beside her, the shake at Tracer’s hand as she drew the wine to her lips, in the way Pharah had carefully assigned the seating and set the table, in the way Winston avoided her gaze as they spoke of Yocheved’s baby, in the way Dva spoke to her so gently. The way Emily looked at her and Tracer both. 

In this victory of a meal, Mercy tasted only the failures of this past year. Miriam’s Well kept them alive in the desert, but Mercy began to wonder if it hadn’t been the bitter alkaline of survival, and not the sweet cool of living. 

The blessing over the wine buzzed from her lips without a thought, and the door opened. Next to her, sitting at that empty corner, was Elijah’s cup. The cup filled with the hope and promise that some year, everything she had been waiting for would come through that door. The cup was an outstretched hand to God in the darkness, whispering about trust. Every year, she had held out that hand. She held it out after her parents were killed. Held it out after Overwatch fell. Held it out as she was in exile from the medical community. She kept looking ahead in the dark, trusting what she could not see. 

She believed. 

To believe in Elijah. To believe that hope could always walk right through the door, that it could sit at your table and drink your glass of wine. To believe that there was a chance to see the dream fulfilled, to touch your feet on that Promised Land. 

Next year, in Jerusalem. 

It was too much to ask. It was too deep a failure, this year, marked by all of her insufficiencies, unable to have a child, unable to save Tracer, throwing herself at these same things again and again, the outcome never changing. She’d gotten no closer to getting pregnant. Tracer’s health continued to deteriorate. 

Not even taking the moment to excuse herself, Mercy got up from the table and ran into the small, tight powder room, the one Pharah had barely managed to niggle into the plans. She pulled herself into the bright white of that room, and she cried, and she cursed, in every language she knew, that God had kept everything from her, that God was punishing her for nothing, that God had judged her for her failings and ignored his own. She was angry. She kept that anger close to her like a flame, even as the immense darkness of her own sorrow crept in. She forgot there even was a Seder, in the other room, saw only the burning, everlasting bush that was her that was God that was the anger and love of all her people, all those years. 

There was a knock at the door, and Mercy wiped at her eyes. Pharah had been so tender and good, through all of this, and the last thing she needed was--

“It’s Emily.” 

Mercy had not expected that, and for a moment, it disarmed her so thoroughly that she opened the door. 

There was nothing exchanged, for a moment. Emily would say that she was no great mind, and no great judge, and no great hero, comparing herself unfavorably to the company Tracer generally kept. She would say this never seeing her own gift for knowing the kindest thing to say, for looking at the faces of people as she did her class of children and opening her own heart to them. 

“It’s just this year, Angela.” Emily nodded. “I know.” 

It was not a question, nor a complaint, nothing but an acknowledgment of the thing that had been Mercy’s own plague, sent by God, or, at the very least, not evaded by him. Mercy nodded, tears still streaming down her face. 

“Do you know Moses died, never seeing the Promised land? He was going through...and a mistake, meant God would never let him see it. He was kept from the promise of God.”

“Promised Land. I suppose it would be easy for a place you never see to be perfect.” Emily leaned against the doorframe. “I don’t know much about the Torah, of course, but I remember the story hardly ending with happily ever after.” 

Mercy shook her head. “They were….argumentative, and lost faith, and difficult.” she sniffled. “But they were not in the desert.” 

“It’s hard, to be Moses, isn’t it Angela? You go among people who don’t understand you, you try to lead them in whatever way you can, and for all that, you feel you will never find home. God barely listens to you, but you stay all the same. I think you’re brave for it.” 

“I’m not--” 

“Aye, you are. The moral compass for as long as I’ve known them, and for longer than that, I know. Lena and Fareeha would say so, as well.” Emily sighed. “This year has been forty for all of us, but for you I know most of all. But,” Emily looked back over her shoulder and stared at Tracer, “It’ll end, won’t it? Even Moses stopped walking.” She turned back around and wiped the tears from her eyes. “The Promised Land is just another beginning. But I don’t know the Torah very well.” 

Mercy looked up at her. “You are knowing it well enough.” 

“I’m sorry, about the baby. Cried over that myself, me and Lena never being able.” She sighed. “I just keep walking. What else can we do?” 

“I’m sorry I,” Mercy closed her eyes, “I am failing you both.”

Emily put her arm around Mercy’s shoulder. “No. You could never. You’re taking us on the journey.” 

“I should go back, to the table. I am being--” 

“We’ll keep going, aye. Eventually, we’ll find the end of it, whatever that is.” 

Hand in hand with Emily, Mercy walked back to the table. She was no clearer or calmer on the subject of God, of what he was denying her, of what he was denying all of them. But she saw the faces of her fellow travellers more clearly. It was not only Moses who made the journey. It was not only Moses who felt lost along the way, and it was not only Moses who died reaching for that unattainable goal, who strived and hoped against everything. 

They were together. She did not find the Promised Land, but she found their hands in hers. 

She poured the final cup of wine. All things come to an end. Even the desert.

[ashes-in-a-jar]

Tma relisten Episodes 11-15

So this round already has two other posts out of it about Oliver because he Bae.

These have alot of ideas regarding entities changing around reality, controlling non victims to set the stage, and turning around what people love most to their worst fear. Also insane abilities of the crew to obtain hard to access info and evidence! And some more Jon sass. Enjoy!

11 dreamer

Wow this episode had alot. I made a separate post with a theory about Oliver's statement here and a realization regarding him and Jane Prentiss here. They are alot to unpack

Oliver is so. Freaking. Relatable! Learned economics and hated it. Nearly had a breakdown like him because of it. "going to stay with some of the few friends that had survived my year of stress-fuelled outbursts and constantly cancelled plans." yep. That.

Boyfriend Graham ey? You notebook eating Graham?? Wow that guy is full of surprises.

I love the dream sequences and their descriptions it's a really beautiful thing to try and picture.

Its interesting how he went from passive to desparate to passive again about death. He tries but can't help. I wonder when the dreams started to bother him so much he sought after the silence of point Nemo. Was it when they became so full of red because of the apocalypse coming closer? Hmmm

Another person named John. I guess that makes sense it's a common name. But I forgot how many people are fully named in this podcast. Hundreds of names to come up with! Jonny I'm quite impressed!

He worked with Jane Prentiss in the magic shop! I can't believe I forgot about that! Wow small avatar world indeed.

"It led me to a room, the label of which was still visible, and read “Archive”. I entered to see walls covered with shelves and cabinets stretching off into the distance. These shelves were coated in a sticky black tar, which I knew at that moment was the thickened, pulpy blood that pumped through each and every one of those veins." everything that has to do with the Fears I bet. Full of death and destruction and stolen from the veins to be out on display for the Eye's pleasure.

Yo Jon is scared of this he's seriously considering going to Elias for advice

" I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke" wait. He trusts TIM? Not to do a practical joke? How. Why. Eh?

"died in the line of duty" fuck you Jonah.

Now Jon will get every new statement immediately when it's made. Perhaps this was Elias' intention all along. To scare him into making sure he does not miss any paranormal activity recorded by the institute.

12 first aid

I'm not immune to more Gerry badassery, hell yeah

And we get polish Martin which hell yeah! Even if Jon doesn't believe it. I'm sure he's repressing the fact that he's thoroughly impressed.

I think it's really interesting the effect entities have on people who are decidedly not their victims. Everyone leaving no questions so the entity can set the scene for the scare. Like with Gillespie how no one lived in the apartment building he was in etc. Alot of work into a handful of people being genuinely scared.

Gerry's burns stopped at the neck? How did he manage that. Also it's hilarious to imagine that he's like "yes burn all of me but please. not my goth makeup"

Zippo lighter with eye design!! And Jon has web design! They are brothers (joke but still really interesting)

Liquids were boiling around her and she didn't feel the heat. Also an interesting effect just for the scare.

Gerry got eye superpowers like Jon if he can function while injure and filled with painkillers.

“Yes. For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.” Gerry knew she'd be haunted by a Fear from that day on and realised that perhaps being watched would be easier for her specifically to deal with than the Desolation. I guess that's a way of assessing people. Which fear would least bother you.

Jon is already enamoured with Gerry you can tell. He can't wait to hear more from him. Just you wait Jon.

They really can access alot of information huh. CCTV Interviews files. Pretty impressive for a non-research team. They're so good at it they'd rather do that than actual archiving.

13 alone

The sound editing in this episode is not that great it was a bit to get used to.

We get a glimpse at the Lukases which is... Ugh

Jon is actually trying to be nice. Granted it's not working and she is a bit of a standoffish person herself who just went through a bad time but alot of her reactions are not his fault. He was trying to be considerate giving her space to record but he did stay when she asked.

She had already leaned into the Lonely before the incident it's interesting to see how some of these statements start with a person actually liking the aspect that later turns to fear. Same happens in lost johns' cave.

Evan Lukas sounds like an avatar of the exact opposite of the Lonely. At least to her. That's a really interesting effect from someone, especially a Lukas.

But maybe dying wasn't his family killing him but him not feeding his patron which he tried to leave. Really tragic.

She was in Martin's domain eyyy!

It's got a bit of buried aspects to it with the grave stuff and all.

"My fingers dug into the soft cemetery dirt as I looked around desperately for anything I could use to save myself, and my hand closed upon that heavy piece of headstone. It took all my self-control to keep a grip on that anchor, as I slowly dragged myself away from the edge of my lonely grave." The headstone was her anchor? But it said forgotten. I wonder how it helped her pull away. It probably had to go together with Evan's voice. Like the rib and the tape recorders having to work together! I just wonder what meaning the stone had for her.

"I’d be tempted to chalk this one up to a hallucination from stress and trauma, if it wasn’t for the fact... " God he does believe her heavens. He's not a skeptic!

This is when Jon's dreams start which... Good luck Jon.

14 piecemeal

Rentoul is terrifying sonofabitch and I would never want to meet him irl

I remembered them talking about how he was supposed to be a person who cursed alot and they couldn't do it because of sensor and I have to agree this could have been much better for the story. I tried imagining curses in some places.

LOL Jon reading this is funny. Trying to voice act the bad boy. Doesn't sound right on his voice.

With these kinds of statements happening alot where the person does something bad, the institute has to be in touch with police over them. The nda has to include that.

Hello Angela! I really wonder what her deal is. She scared the bid bully so she gotta have creepy vibes to the extreme.

Another lighter! Hmm do I have to start following the lighter motiff in this podcast. This one has a topless woman on it. Flesh lighter?

Salesa's also appearing that's cool! Noriega was probably looking for an artifact to reverse the curse. Didn't work tho since they left with the crate. The buried crate perhaps?

I'm wondering. Was this written? Because the statement sounds like he's talking. If so, Where's the recording?

Oh Jon your attitude towards Martin is so bad. He works so hard and it's not even in what he's good at, sorting and filing like he knows how to do from the library. God.

What's the deal with all the furniture gone? Did he think it'll help not get injured? He's not that smart if he thought that would help him.

15 lost Johns' cave

Ack a bad statement she was not a good person all around

Another example of the entities setting the stage by controlling others not to interfere with the victim's experience.

Also another example of the person liking the subject (cave exploration in this case. And the dark for that matter) only for it to turn against them.

Not much to say about this one other than its one of the scarier ones for sure. And her recording in the end is really the cherry on top. There is alot of discrepancy between what she believed happened and what actually did which shows how much the fear plays with and changes around reality. That's also how she manages to lie in a statement to Beholding. It wasn't a lie. It was her version of reality and she did not remember saying those awful words.

Taught me alot about cave diving and how much I will never do it in my life.

The Dark was mixed into this as well so it wasn't purely Buried.

Btw Where did she get the candles she was found with?

It feels like she made a choice. Didn't want to spend her last moments with her sister and then didn't want to die. She chose her sister to be taken over her. Her sister called for help and the candle coming closer might have been her! But she just shut her eyes.

How did Tim gain access to the recording?? Wow that's some prime evidence.

Martin is claustrophobic amongst other things huh? Live how Jon just dismisses this as an excuse not to work. At least he didn't push it.

[kimtaetae16ii]

Part 2 (a/n : sorry late haha! Idk how to make the link in one post so tht it'll make u easier to read)

[Monday : 7:45 a.m.]

Hollyyy cowww!  You were still sleepy at that time because for actually you only got 2½ hours of sleep.

In that morning, all of your family had warmth breakfast to fill the stomach for long journey. It took 3 hours to go back to your home.

The fried chicken in the middle of dining table looked so good but you were still sleepy. The crunchy outside really killed you. Without being hesitated, you took the friend hot crunchy drumsticks then bite it.

"Hmph.. So delicious! " eyes closed as you were trying to feel the moment.

After having one drumstick, you took wings part after that. After that, you took the breast part.

"Miss Park, you want more? " the maid asked you.

"Sure!  I would love to eat more. You such great chef." The maid just smiled while you put half strawberry AND chocolate jam on the bread and served into your mouth.

"Jeannie, can you please behave yourself?" Mama suddenly appeared.

"Just let her eat. You serve less food to your children!

Eat some more, honey~"

Nana push the bowl of mushroom soup to you.

"Hehe I eat too much don't I? Hahahahahaha" you laughed so hard while being watched by your parents.

Your behavior changed lately.

"Here your fried chicken, miss Park." The maids served you several parts of chicken for you.

"Wahh!  Thank youuu. Get me cheese sauce, please."

I think having second round will make me full until tomorrow.

Hopefully.

"15 minutes more." Mama said while looked into her watch.

"Chill, Ma. Nana is feeding me right now. Hehe" you teared the chicken wings looked at your nana who was smiling then you continue to eat until all of the foods in the table clear and clean.

[Monday 17:15 p.m.]

You went to jog with your little sister and your mother at the nearest parks in your resident area.

The air is so fresh as the goverment would like to make sure the resident will always get clean environment.

After long walks, we sat at the branch under the shady trees. The day also being windy. The breeze that touched your skin was so ease.

"Jeannie, I have something to say." Your mother speak up.

"What?"

"About your Nana, please assured her saying that you would stay at home instead of her house.

Second, I would feel honoured if you would continue her business it just that, you're still young. You're 18. So, I don't allow you to do that.

Third, I arranged you to enter the Harvard."

You were shocked plus surprise at her last words. Your heart broke into million pieces.

"Ma! I do no want to go that far. Why don't you ask me and tell me about that!?"

"I'm doing this for your future."

Your mother professionally answer you while you were burning inside.

"My future?? Ma, this isn't correct. You don't think about my emotion! I can't go that far because I cannot deal with my emotion! I'm scared of getting bullied." Your tears came out in your eyes.

"You will not getting bullied because your uncle and aunt are teaching there." She still assured you to say yes on her 'arrangement' for your future.

"Suck with what they did there, Ma! It's not 100% guaranteed I would be save there!

No means no.

I'm going home!"

You stand and just straight away going home. No turning to see what happened at the backside. You just cannot deal with tour emotion also in the same time to understand what is your mother's purpose on doing that. That ain't fair for you.

Jane walked to your mother then her small hands in your mother's hands.

"Ma, are you crying?" She saw your mother was facing down. Then, she like wipe something from her eyes.

"No, I'm not crying. The wind brought small dust into my eyes." She smile to Jane.

"Okayy."

"Let's have another walk then we're going home."

"But I want udon at the family mart! " she pouted cutely.

Your mother laughed and buy her attention.

"Okay, we will go to family mart after this." Then they went to walk for another round.

It just that

You had no idea from what your mother told you.

You scared.

Your unknown relationship would broke just like that just because you've been sent to America to further your study.

You scared Haechan would be sad.

Of course your mother would be sad more when you go against her.

You were still young to understand what is the best for you to deal with the cruel world now. It cannot be deal anymore. Cruel forever would be cruel.

_________________________________________

[Friday, 11:00 p.m.]

"Jeannie, we will go to Japan for 3 days only. We bring Jane with us. You just take care with yourself." Your mother said while kissed on the top of your head.

You didn't know how to react.

"Okay. But, buy me bunch of chocolates." You smile a little then they got into the car.

You wave your hands in the air as the car already exit from your house area.

I don't fucking mind for being left alone unless they will buy me something as the return.

That's the concept. It just, you want to eat or get any things from the other country as the collection and for gaining your experience.

You went into your house. Then got into the TV room to watch some horror movies.

But before that, you went into the kitchen to grab some foods as you were being hungry so bad.

You texted Haechan to come over to your house as your parents were not at home for three days.

Babe, would you come over here? Sleep with me?

I was left alone.

Sent at 11:25 p.m.

Not for long second you received message.

Oww, sweetheart. I can't as my parents still awake. How about you come over here?

I've been miss you so bad.

Sent at 11:26 p.m.

You pouted.

Lemme think.

Okay then.

Sent at 1:27 p.m.

You put it back into the cabinet but only Oreo chocolate bars of Hershey you bring along.

-

[11:15 p.m.]

You texted him that you already be at the main door of that house. His house is very huge.

Then, the door being opened and made your heart fluttered as you saw his cute face.

Both of you hugged each other then, you pecked his lips.

"You made it." He said with the giggles came after it.

"Yeah~" I said then he put his hands around my waist and heading to his bedroom.

After we just get in there, he threw me onto his bed then, he crawled the bed to be on top of me. "Kyaa~ Lee Donghyuck, what are you doing ?" You tried to push him away. At that moment, everything seems slow down. He came near your little by little then, you guys lips collided znd the passion BOOM !

you never felt that kind of feelings, that kind of experience before that make you felt satisfied with it. His hips was between your legs at that moment and made you guys felt want to feel each other but Haechan is smart enough to protect his princess and the queen will be.

He knew the limit so he was the one who broke the kiss and kiss the top of your head.

"Done, sweetheart. Let's watch a movie then we'll cuddle then we'll go to sleep okay."

"okay, "

Then, he took out his 13inch-MacBook Air. He tapped on Netflix in his laptop then there it served.

He searched for romantic miviebthen you saw the 3rd season of fifty shades. You suggested him to click on it.

"Are you sure about this, sweetheart?"

You smiled in shyness and nodded my head. "I just want to watch it with you."

He giggle at the way you were being cute.

"Okay then."

The movie begin.

At beginning.

There's nothing such things happened yet so like you guys admired them as being such lovely couple.

Climax

Then there's happened. The way Mr.Grey lifted, spanked Anna's butt and so on make you felt turned on.

The way Mr.Gray put the balls in her pussy and told her to stay calm during the party make you already felt wet because you liked feel how the balls got into your hole.

And they got married was the great things for you cus you liked it so much and what happened after that.

You could not stay calm at all. Haechan felt your hands squeezed his arm that you hugged. He knew you wanted that so bad.

Ending

Anna got into planned accident by her husband's enemy and that what make your heart throbbed.

After she awoke, and everything went well. They got a son also Anna is pregnant for their second child was the satisfied things that all the fans of shades darker wanted.

"Finally it met its end." You did long sighed as you just felt tired. Yeah like be with gadget for long time can make your body being weak. That's why people said do not use the gadget for more than four hours.

You guys were making the bed to get comfortable condition and about to sleep while cuddling with each other.

"Babe" he snapped out of something after you called him.

"Yeah, sweetheart" he faced you and wrapped his arm around your waist.

"What is in cuddle?" You looked into his eyes.

He lifted his one eyebrow meant that he didn't get what you want to convey it.

"I mean, what people do when they are cuddling. When ppl say cuddling, I will automatically thinking that they are tickling each other. So like, yeah?  It is?"

He hummed for a seconds.

"Yeah, that's correct. Why?" while brushing yoir hair to the back.

"Nothing. Also like, when i watch The Babadook with Angela and Teressa and Dahlia, the mother been using some vibrate thing. What is that?"

You kept asking him because you were still wondering what it is.

He gulped before to speak.

"That's vibrator. You can search it on Google." he said playing with your smooth back.

You turned on your phone then went to safari and searched for it. You surprised and oo-ed so big.

"Oh my it's disgustin!"

"It is?" He asked you back. While without you knowing the close the distant between you two. You can felt his hips touching your hips too.

"It is. I would never not to have that. Such disgusting things."

"Sweetheart, look at me." The moment you put your phone down, his nose met yours.

"Watching such movies also disgusting. So what about we try it out and feel it's gonna felt." He said in such low-romantic voice. The husky voice.

"Try what?" You cupped his cheeks.

"Let me show you."

And that night, you guys had shared everything related to your body. Your body connected to him. And also that's the new experience that you got.

His hot skin touch yours. His body's scent would never make you disappoint. You gave your everything to him.

[jord-w-bush]

What I Feel For You

What I Feel For You

Request: Can you do a jim halpert one, maybe where he's pinning over her for soo long but he doesn't have the nerve to tell her?! And maybe just maybe, one of them gets drunk and kisses the other? I don't know, I trust you completely 😘

Would you please write some Jim Halpert x fem!reader? There's not enough fanfic for this cutie

Warnings: Fluff, angst, fluff and also more fluff, oh and maybe a couple swear words.

Pairing: Jim Halpert x Reader

A/N: It’s been a minute since I busted out a fic like this, so be gentle with me. For the sake of ease and to fit my story, this happens outside of any NBC aired episodes, and I won’t do any “talking heads” this time. This one-shot takes place between the Stamford Branch relocation and the end of Season 3, but there is no Karen (No offense Rashida Jones, but we hate Karen). Pam has recently broken up with Roy, and the fight DID happen. The title of the one-shot is from “No One” by Alicia Keys 

I always take requests! Check out my page to see who I’ll write for!

Word Count: 3.8k (This kinda got away from me…haha)

Summary: Jim and Y/N have always been close. She helps him through his Pam woes but longs for it to be her that he wants to be with. One night, after a long day at the office, they decide to have a pizza and beers night at her place, and things get….personal.

“Dunder Mifflin this is Pam. Oh, I’m sorry she isn’t in yet; can I take a message?” Pam Beesly looked up at Jim Halpert, sitting in the nearest desk clump with his back to the manager’s office and shrugged at his questioning glance. His clump mate, Dwight Schrute looked up and huffed in annoyance. 

“Why do people find it so difficult to arrive at their place of employment on time, consistently? This is why there should be a probationary period of one year before a new employee can stay here full time. What a joke our probationary system is.”

Jim rolled his eyes and glanced at the empty desk to his right, “Well, Dwight, Y/N has been here for 5 years. She would have been out of your probationary period at this point. And she is never this late. She could be sick, or her car could have broken down. Why don’t you cut her some slack?” Jim looked again at this friend’s desk and his face shadowed with worry. Getting up, he walked to the reception desk and looked Pam in the eye, “Actually, now that I’m really thinking about it, maybe we should call her and see where she is. She is almost 2 hours late and I don’t think- “

At that moment, you burst through the door of the office, breathing heavily and looking stressed. In your hands, you carried your purse and a cardigan, like you had time to do little else but run from your car to the office upon arriving. Walking up to the pair, you dropped the items in your arms on the floor and leaned dramatically on the desk beside Jim, “I am so so so so so sorry that I’m late you guys. My brother is still going through his nasty divorce so while he and his soon to be ex figure things out at their house I’m on kiddo duty, so I had to get the kids to school this morning, but I’ve quickly realized I am not equipped to handle the schedules of an 8-year-old, 2 5-year-olds, and a 3-year-old. I would have called but it’s been a mess all morning. How’s it going here? At least the doc crew isn’t filming today…because, of course, this is what I’ve chosen to wear. Fantastic.”

Jim smiled at you then, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Hey, we understand. Everyone does. It’s awesome that you’re helping out so much through this whole thing. I’m sure your brother is ecstatic that the kids don’t have to see this thing unfold. As for the outfit, I’m not sure what you’re worried about because I know for certain that,” he gave you a once over and tried to stifle a laugh, not exactly succeeding, “green pencil skirts paired with orange button-ups and brown loafers are very in right now.” You chuckled and smiled at him in thanks for his attempt at cheering you up. Unsurprisingly, it had worked. The two of you shared a look, and then you turned back to Pam with a questioning glance, “And how are you this morning, Pam? Your hair looks great!”

Pam smiled, “Thanks! It’s been pretty boring, as usual. I have a message for you though. It’s from the OA of our Utica branch,” She handed you your message and turned to answer an incoming call. 

Muttering your thanks, you bent down to pick up your purse and sweater and walked toward your desk with Jim following close behind. Setting your bag on the floor, and draping your cardigan over the back of your chair, you sat down across from Dwight, and smiled at him cheerfully, “Morning, Dwight. How was your night last night?” The man in question glanced up at you and scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I don’t indulge in idle chatter, you should know this by now. I don’t know how many times I have to say this to you, Y/N.”

“Well, Dwight, it's polite to make pleasantries with your coworkers, and I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to call me Y/N/N. My mother is the only person who calls me Y/F/N,” You replied, booting up your computer and sneaking a glance at Jim, who was pretending, albeit poorly, that he was not listening in to the conversation going on in front of him. Dwight opened his mouth to respond when the manager’s office door opened, and Michael Scott stepped out.

“Oh boy,” you muttered.

“Well, good morning there, Miss Tardy Butt. Well, I mean Miss Tardy Pants. I’m not trying to talk about your pants or your butt. I’m just trying to draw attention to the fact that you were late and tease you. But not in a bullying way. I’m not a bully. And it has nothing to do with my trying to assert my power over you because you are a woman, I believe women are just as equal as men in the workplace and all that junk-uh jazz,” Michael word vomited, trying not to fumble in front of the whole office and not exactly succeeding. With an uncomfortable silence and a cough, he started again, “Uh, Jim. Could I speak with you in my office for a mo, if you please.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Jim stood up and followed him into his office, shutting the door behind him. Dwight smirked at your concerned face and went back to his work. This is going to be a long day, you thought to yourself.

A few hours later, you looked up at the clock and realized it was time for your lunch break. You put your computer to sleep and headed back to the break room, lunch in hand. When you got there, you noticed Pam sitting at the table in the far corner alone, doodling. Jim and Oscar were sitting a table near the microwave, an open seat next to Jim calling your name. Jim looked up from his turkey sandwich and smiled at you as you walked toward the table, reaching out to slide your chair back for you.

“Hey guys,” you said happily, thanking Jim with a smile, and Oscar replying with a short “Hi” in return.

“So, Oscar was just telling me about this show out right now that he thinks I would like. What’s it called again?” Jim started, looking over at Oscar with a questioning glance. You waited for his response, considering Oscar usually had great entertainment recommendations.

“Oh right, it’s called Super Nanny. And basically, it’s about-“

“It’s about rotten children doing rotten things and their parents not doing anything about it. It’s absolute garbage. Actually, now that I think about it, you might enjoy it, Y/N.” Oscar was interrupted by Angela who smiled smugly at you from the doorway of the break room.

“Wow. Thanks, Ange. That was really kind and uplifting. I’m sure Jesus would be quite pleased with your behavior,” you replied, rolling your eyes and turning back to Oscar, not even missing a beat. Jim smiled smugly at you, always so amused by your ability to stand up for yourself, and take no prisoners. You felt him staring and met his gaze, but he quickly looked away with a cough, causing him to miss the blush growing on your own cheeks.

As the office was wrapping up its workday, Pam made her way toward your desk, looking anxious and self-conscious. She kept making sideways glances at Jim and that did not escape your notice. You sent the supply order form you had been filling out and finally looked up at her. You had never had a problem with her per-say, but you weren’t exactly her biggest fan, considering all the drama and hurt she put Jim through 24/7. In all honestly, she was the sole reason your best friend moved to another city. To be away from her and her fiancé, who she then dumped. And got back together with. And then dumped. And then watched while he took a swing at Jim. All things considered, you tried to be friendly to her because you didn’t want your behavior to negatively impact your relationship with Jim. That was more important to you than anything else in the world, and you weren’t going to jeopardize that.

“What’s up, Pam?” you said, making eye contact with the mousy girl with a small smile.

“Um, well I know it’s only 4:30, but I was wondering if you could cover the phones for the last half hour of the day so I could cut out early? If not, I totally understand. It’s just that I kind of have a date later and I wanted to go home and have plenty of time to get ready, it’s been a while since I’ve-“ you put your hand up indicating that she should stop talking. You glanced at your desk mate and best friend, who suddenly looked very interested in whatever was on his computer screen, but you didn’t miss his furrowed brow or the way he covered his mouth with his hand like he always did when he was upset or annoyed. “It’s no problem. Go ahead, and have fun tonight. See you Monday.” You got up without waiting for a response from her and sat at the reception desk. Pam waved goodbye and as soon as she was out of sight, you rolled your eyes looked at Jim. He was looking at you with a smirk, and when you glared playfully at him, his smirk only grew as he sauntered over to you.

“So, I have this that needs to be faxed to all of our biggest accounts. Now I know that it’s 4:35, but I need them done now, and I need confirmations that all have received them and then I need you to make copies of each confirmation and distribute them to Michael, HR, Accounting and myself. Can you do it?” He said, with a mischievous glint in his eye. If there was one thing you loved about Jim Halpert, it was his ability to turn anything into a joke. He always made you laugh. And his laugh. That brightened even your darkest days. And the way he crinkled his nose when he- “Earth to Y/N. I said can you do it?”

You shook your head to rid yourself of your ridiculous thoughts. Jim was your best friend and he was head over heels, over the moon, deeply in love with Pam Beesly, the most boring woman in the universe. “I’m sorry. I zoned out when you started to sound like Dwight.” You winked at him and he just laughed at you, you eventually joining in with him.

“Well played, Y/L/N. Well played. So listen. I was thinking. It’s the weekend, I have no life, and unless something has changed since 3 hours ago, you have no life. So what do you say you and I order some pizza, knock back some beers and watch cheesy 80’s movies until we both fall asleep under your coffee table like old times, huh? And this time I promise I won’t get any veggies on the pizza.” Jim looked at you with hope in his eyes. Any time he could spend with his favorite girl he would take. Regardless of what you believed, you were his favorite person to be around. Pam wasn’t even a close second. 

You pretended to consider his offer, but inside your heart was beating fast and hard against your ribcage, longing to jump out onto the desktop and scream at Jim, “YES YES I LOVE YOU YES PLEASE”. After a few moments, you sighed heavily, “I suppose that would be fine. As long as it doesn’t affect the grocery shopping plans I have for Sunday. I have had those plans for days now and I do not intend on breaking them for the likes of you, Mr. Halpert.” You winked at Jim, and he smiled at you happily, muttering an “Oh, I shan’t keep you.” Under his breath sarcastically. After another beat, you looked at him with a stern expression and reached your hand up to rest on his comfortably.

“Are you okay?” You asked, “Ya know, considering with all the stuff that Pam was saying earlier. You might be able to fool other people, Jim, but it’s not so easy with me. I know you heard what she said. You know you can talk to me.”

“What? Oh yeah. I’m good. It just kinda sucks I guess. Her knowing exactly how I feel and not even seeming to care that she is moving on after everything that happened without me. Ya know?” Jim replied, half-heartedly. You were none the wiser to his lack of commitment to his response, but he wanted to keep it that way.

“Well, how about this. Let’s knock back lots of beers tonight, maybe something stronger, and we can forget about her and her frizzy hair and stupid doodles and I’ll tell you so many great cheesy jokes, you won’t even remember her name. How does that sound?” You said, squeezing his hand before pulling it away.

“That,” he replied, leaning down close to you and speaking barely above a whisper, “sounds incredible.”

About 3 hours later, you heard a knock on your apartment door. Your dog, Karen, barked. When you had first got Karen as a puppy, Jim came over to play with her and after you had had a few beers, tipsily dared you to name her Karen after the computer wife of a certain undersea villain of your shared favorite cartoon. Never being one to back down from a dare, you accepted and you and the pup had been best pals ever since. You shushed her and hopped up from the couch to answer the door. You opened the door to reveal your best friend, grinning slightly with a large pizza box in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other. 

“Hi there,” he greeted huskily, pushing off the door frame he was leaning on and walking past you into your house. After putting the food and drink on your coffee table in front of the TV, he finally bent down to give Karen the attention she had been begging for since her second favorite human had arrived.

“So, how’s it been since I last saw you…2 hours and 17 minutes ago?” You asked smirking as Jim stood up, then unceremoniously flopped down on your couch.

“Meh. I don’t know. I just feel…lost without you. I genuinely don’t know how I go on.” You chuckled and sat beside him, flicking his arm then grabbing it and putting it around your shoulders.

“Yeah. I don’t know either. I’m basically the best thing you have going on in your life right now. So…” You tried to reply with a straight face, but couldn’t help yourself. You let out a small giggle and a smile. 

Jim’s face got very serious then, his eyes boring into yours, “Yeah. You are.” 

You noticed his eyes flash down to your lips and then back to yours, but before he could even start to lean in you jumped up and ran into the kitchen. You coughed awkwardly as you grabbed plates, napkins and your six-pack of beer from the fridge and sat back on the couch, this time, further from Jim. You couldn’t explain what just happened. Jim can’t try to kiss you! You are his best friend. He’s in love with Pam, and you help him deal with that. You love him, but he doesn’t love you back….right?

It was now past 11 and you and Jim were laughing drunkenly at a joke he had just told about Dwight. After you had finished the pizza and both packs of beer, you decided that it was time to switch to something harder, because why not? You had cracked open a bottle of tequila and had been doing shots for an hour now.  You were practically sitting on Jim’s lap, and he had a head on your shoulder as you wiped tears from the corner of your eyes. You turned your head to look at him and he looked up at you with unfocused eyes, and your smile faltered slightly. Even now, drunk as a skunk, you felt your heart start to race as you looked at your best friend. Jim’s hot breath washed over your face, smelling of tequila and the remnants of the pizza he had finished off. He brought up the had that was resting on your hip to cup your cheek, softly running his thumb over the soft skin. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he said, starting to lean in toward you. Just as his lips were about to brush yours, you came to your senses and leaned away, putting your hand on his lips to stop him from pursuing you.

“Wait, Jim. What are you doing? We can’t do this,” You said, breathlessly. You could barely control your erratic heartbeat, or yourself enough to not lean right back in and attach your lips to his.

He looked down with so much conflict in his eyes, you suddenly felt sober and cupped his cheek instead. You lifted his head so you could look into his eyes. “Hey. What is it? You can talk to me. You know that.”

“No. No I can’t. No about this.” He said, standing up suddenly and almost losing his balance. Once he caught himself he started pacing back and forth, tugging at his hair and looking at you and then upwards in frustration. You stood up and blocked his path. Forcing him to look at you.

“Of course you can. We are best friends. There is nothing you could say to me that would change that. Is this about Pam? Look, Jim, I know it’s tough to hear but maybe it’s time that you-“

“NO!” Jim interrupted you loudly, making you jump slightly. Jim had never been one to raise his voice, so this was just more proof that something serious was troubling him. And an even more troubling thought came to your mind; Had you been such a bad friend that you didn’t notice whatever it was that had been eating away at him like this?

“No,” he said, softer this time, “Y/N. It’s not about Pam. To be honest, it hasn’t been about Pam in a long time. Maybe not even ever.” He looked you straight in the eyes with such an intensity, you felt your face grow hot, and you had to turn away.

“What do you mean, Jim?” You asked quietly.  

“I mean,” he took a step toward you, taking your hand in his without hesitation, “That I’m not in love with Pam anymore. I haven’t been since before I moved to Stamford. I’m pretty sure I got over my crush on her the moment you walked in to be Michael’s assistant that day. It took me a while to understand that’s what had happened, but you and I had built this friendship out of you encouraging me through that whole thing, and even after our friendship blossomed into something more substantial, I was afraid that if I came clean, you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

“Wait. What are you saying?” You asked, confusion clouding your features.

“I’m saying that it’s you, Y/N. I’m in love with you. I always have been. I didn’t move to Stamford because Roy and Pam set a date, and I didn’t come back because I knew they were broken up. I left because I couldn’t bare the thought of loving you in secret one second more, but the thought of coming clean scared me somehow more. But as soon as I got to Stamford I realized my mistake. Those months without you were some of the worst of my life. You are the love of my life. I wake up and I know that as long as I see you for even a moment, it will be a great day. That day you called and asked me if I was moving back to Scranton, and we talked for hours on the phone, made me think that maybe I wasn’t the only one who felt this way.  That maybe, when I got back, we could turn our friendship into something more. But when I moved back, and you started encouraging me to go after Pam, I knew I was wrong. So I did what I thought you wanted. And then that failed and I had to pretend like I was sad. I couldn’t give two shits about what Pam thinks of me. What I felt for her is nothing compared to what I feel for you. All I care about is that you are still in my life. And I realize that my drunk self-has just ruined any chance of that happening. But I’m so tired Y/N. I’m tired of acting like I’m not in love with you. Like I’m not in love with the way your eyes squint when you smile too wide. Or the way you seem to always have a bit more to give to the people who need it. Or how you know exactly what to say when I can’t take one more second in that office. You are everything to me.”

By the time Jim finished his speech, tears were pouring down your face as you watched his expression change from frustration, to passion, to heartbreak. This man who you had been pining over for so long had just told you that he loved you. You and not Pam. But you couldn’t find the words to reply. So you did the only thing you could think of. 

Before you could stop yourself, you stepped up to him and planted your lips on his, wrapping your free arm around his neck and bringing your joined hands to rest on your lower back. It took a second, but then Jim was kissing you back with so much passion it made your head spin and your knees go weak. As his lips moved against yours, you couldn’t help but think of all the moments when all you wanted to do was kiss him just like this. 

You finally pulled away for air and he pressed another kiss to your lips before resting his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” he said with a smile in his voice, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

You chucked and leaned in, ghosting your lips over his, “I think I do,” You replied, before pressing your lips to his again in a searing kiss.

[fluidityandgiggles]

The Midnight Channel - prologue

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND I can’t keep myself from writing something new even though I totally should continue my eleven other stories first aaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

So, this is my soulmate AU, based off the prompt ‘Every night you receive a message about a random sentence your soulmate has said that day.’ Only based though. Everything is in the tags. And… please enjoy. Try to, at least.

————

��1 New Message from: Unknown

Life is nothing like a box of chocolates. You don’t get to pick and choose.’

Patton adored his midnight texts. He didn’t get them, most of the time, but they were fun enough. His friends… thought he was crazy for enjoying them.

Remy even said that if this guy isn’t a “repressed emo nerd sort of person”, then he’s probably a serial killer or something.

He immediately wrote the message down in his notebook. He had to show this to Remy and Roman later today. For now he had to sleep. He was opening tomorrow.

——

‘1 New Message from: Unknown

Sometimes I cry when someone asks me out to ramen, because I love ramen, jeez Angela get it right!’

Logan loved how hilarious his midnight texts could be. Whoever his soulmate was, they were a great person.

Logan didn’t deserve this person in his life.

He quickly turned back to the project he was working on, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the text. And all the previous ones he’s gotten over the years. He saved them all in neatly organized notebooks, kept all on a shelf above his desk. No one’s ever seen them besides his best friend Virgil.

And no one but Virgil was ever going to see them. Except maybe his soulmate.

——

‘1 New Message from: Unknown

Once you’ve read the dictionary, all books are either remixes or fanfiction.’

Roman was absolutely in love with his soulmate and he had no idea if his soulmate felt the same way. But he absolutely loved whoever his soulmate is. All the witty sentences he’s gotten over time were just incredible, worthy of being made into a book.

He immediately forwarded the message to Remy and awaited response. He had some text to read.

Dr. Frank N. Furter was going to be the role of his life.

——

‘1 New Message from: Unknown

I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t cry over ramen. Pizza maybe. Not ramen.’

Virgil was usually asleep when he got his texts, but they were the most bizarre thing to wake up to in the morning. Yesterday it was something about Macbeth. Today it was about pizza.

Well, good thing he at least understands what’s going on.

By now it was common practice to show the quotes to his best friend - he helped Virgil manage his life and is the only person he trusts with his soulmate - but he decided to keep it for later today.

Right now, he had to get to the first job of many today.

——

“Good morning, sunshine!” The bright smile on the blue-eyed boy’s face was Logan’s favorite thing first thing in the morning. “The earth says hello!”

“Hello, sunshine. Hit me with… whatever.”

“Staying up as late as you do will never do you any good, Lolo.” Patton started hitting the screen in front of him. “I love you way too much to let you torture yourself this way.”

“It’s not torture, it’s a master’s degree,” Logan groaned and held out his card, which Patton took, brushing his hand against Logan’s. It was a habit. One Logan never wanted to break.

As Patton stepped to the side to prepare Logan’s coffee, and let the equally sweet Terrence take his place - as was every morning when Logan was there - in came the grumpy as always Virgil, barely looking anywhere than his phone.

It was a wonder how the adorable puffball Patton and great sulk Virgil were even related. Let alone brothers.

“Good morning, kiddo! Rise and shine!”

“Coffee.”

“Let me be finished with Lolo first, okay Virgil?”

“Now.”

“Is it now-now or I am going to sulk away while looking at my phone until the coffee is ready-now?”

“…it’s too early to think.”

“So It’s sulk away-now. Wait just a couple moments, Virge.”

There was a reason Patton was the only one allowed to serve Virgil, and today was looking very close to it.

“There you go, Lolo! A Christmas dead eye.” Patton slid a huge cup full of hot coffee towards Logan with a bright smile.

That pastel-haired boy was going to be the death of him one day.

“And I am not telling you what went into this.”

“As always. Thank you, Patton.”

“No problem, Logan. Now, Virgil…”

——

Roman was awaiting his coffee, but he was growing impatient by the minute. It was about time to start a rehearsal and the coffee wasn’t here yet.

“Morning, Disney Princess.”

“Likewise, Panic at the Everywhere.”

Virgil knew Roman since the time Roman and Patton met in school, and he was always this irritating. But he had to give it to him, the boy was… a really good human being. He protected Patton from bullying and stayed a loyal friend forever, he was always the first to initiate any idea in the theatre group and in general, and a million more things Virgil could list.

Right now, though, he was so irritating.

“Good moooooooooorning!” Valerie sang out loud as she grabbed a cup of coffee. “No time to hate each other, it’s only eight thirty in the morning!”

“How is she so… cheery?”

“She already had her coffee.”

Life as a stage manager was… not fun. Especially considering how accident-prone the group was. They’d been together for a long time now, and times were fun. Albeit a bit stressful, but the job was always the job. There was not a single calm moment on stage and Virgil grew to understand this rather quickly.

But sometimes, only sometimes, he was starting to seriously question his decision to do this for a living.

Eh, what the hell. If this doesn’t work out, he can always become a pro bartender.

————

Tag list:

The regulars:

@broadwaytheanimatedseries @royal-raccoon @illmamnim

The not so regulars:

@anony-phangirl @royallyanxious @tinysidestrashcaptain 

If you wanna be tagged just tell me. Same to being removed from tags.

[twocoursemeal-blog]

TCM Eats: Taiwan Cafe

Taiwan Cafe (Chinatown)

We’re lucky enough to live in a city where there isn’t just *a* Taiwanese restaurant, but where you can even have not just one, but multiple *favorite* Taiwanese restaurants. Today, dear readers, we visit one of those favorites: Taiwan Cafe. You’ll never guess whether we ordered just the right amount of food this time!

We ate (too much):

Fried Taiwanese Style Pork Chop over Rice

Taiwan Style Sauteed Noodles with Pork and Vegetables

Roast Beef Scallion Pancakes

Matt’s Thoughts:

I had never been to Taiwan Cafe before, despite it being one of Angela’s favorite places in Chinatown. One warm evening during a particularly late work night for her, I suggested we meet up for dinner somewhere nearby, and Taiwan Cafe fit the bill.

When we say hole-in-the-wall, we mean it - Angela almost didn’t find it on the first go around! It’s tucked away inauspiciously on a small, quiet side street slightly away from the main crush of Chinatown central. We stepped up the stairs, opened the doors, and in classic “this food is gonna be delicious” fashion, were slammed with a wave of delicious smells. Mouths water, we walked in and were quickly seated.

In a move that will probably surprise you, Angela and I over ordered. Please believe me when I say that we tried not to. We tried hard. You will not be reading about at least two other things that just barely stayed on the chopping block. However, since leftovers are still a real thing, I can’t be too mad about it (this time, I was the lucky beneficiary of all of them).

A quick word about the decor - this place is smallish, relatively cramped, and smells fantastic. The servers are always traveling by, just barely not slamming into you, loaded with plates of food you wish you could be eating. I’ll take it over a more spacious place any day. We were seated right next to their two fish tanks, one with lobsters, and one with two large and hilarious tilapia (one kept on bullying the other by aggressively bumping into it and knocking it onto its side), so we were kept amused by our fishy dining companions. Of course, you don’t always have the option to eat your dining companions, but in this case, things were different (we opted not to this time, but stay tuned - eventually our love of seafood is bound to prevail).

Our pork chop came out first, glistening in oil and giving off a fantastic porky umami scent. Once it was reliably cool enough not to sear off the skin in my mouth, I took a bite. Unsurprisingly, it was delicious. Very fatty, but also extremely flavorful. The pork had been coated in a seasoning sauce that helped to cut through some of the oil. A similar star of the show was the rice that had been catching all of said oil. This stuff was magical, and if I could order a bowl of just pork-oil-rice, believe me, I would.

As we were reveling in fried pig, our second order came out - scallion pancake with roast beef. I had never had this magical mix before: a scallion pancake lightly fried, rolled up with thin slices of Taiwanese roast beef, cilantro, scallions, and what tasted like a hoisin-based spread. The idea here was phenomenal, and the food itself was also excellent, but I felt like it suffered just a little bit from two things: the beef was chewy enough in some bites that it was hard not to tear out the entire piece, and also that the scallion pancake itself was a little bland and underdone. I’m not really sure how, logistically, you’d take a classic scallion pancake and use it in this preparation, but I was hoping for something a little closer, and maintain that it would have been delicious. Still, I would absolutely get this item again here or at another place.

Angela and I, foolishly, thought that this wouldn’t quite be enough, so we placed an order for what we thought would be a small dish of stir fried noodles with pork. What we got instead was a very large dish of stir fried noodles with pork. The noodles came sauced in what appeared to be a sort of light gravy, with thin strips of pork and other veggies mixed in. Angela wasn’t the biggest fan of these, and described them as bland. I, on the other hand, was a big fan of them, and described them as delicate. Different strokes. For me, the noodles had a noticeable wok-fired smokey flavor that wasn’t hidden by a strong sauce. This flavor married the richness of the pork and the sauced noodles well, and kept me interested enough to go back for more bites (even though I was extremely full). These noodles constituted most of my leftovers, and they held up extremely well upon reheating. They’d be a great dish to share with a large group, if you’re looking for something to fill that niche.

I was glad to have finally gotten to Taiwan Cafe! The food was just as good as Angela had described, and remarkably cheap to boot. Though the menu was wildly intimidating (by far one of the largest I’d ever seen), I think you could reasonably close your eyes, point somewhere, and end up happy with the result (please don’t try this and then yell at me if you get something you don’t like). If you’re looking for a new spot to try in Chinatown, you could do a lot worse than giving Taiwan Cafe a visit.

Angela’s Thoughts:

As Matt mentioned, Taiwan Cafe is an old favorite of mine. Late hours, cheap prices, large family-style portions, and proximity to school made them a frequent stop; I can recall many a time when I stopped in to pick up their delicious $5 pork chop rice plate (no longer $5, unfortunately). I recommend it almost universally when friends are looking for Chinatown dining locations; I’ve even dragged my coworkers there for a lab lunch before (it, like many Chinatown restaurants, is very good for groups)! Taiwan Cafe is great, and you can’t really tell me otherwise... which is why I was particularly afraid of the TCM curse -- when I finally get around to reviewing one of my faves, and it absolutely sucks (see our JM Curley review for the best example of this phenomenon). Thankfully, Taiwan Cafe was more or less as consistent as ever.

Taiwan Cafe is a small place with a relatively nondescript storefront. I frequently find myself forgetting where it is on the narrow, winding streets of Boston’s Chinatown. During this visit, we walked in on the late end of the dinner rush on a Tuesday, and were lucky to be immediately seated next to the fish tank, which, on this day, housed a douchebag fish who terrorized its sole tankmate throughout our entire meal. We took snapchats of their antics (and contemplated eating douchefish, to relieve the bullied fish), and it ended up being pretty great entertainment.

I’ve had quite a few things from Taiwan Cafe’s large menu, which is known for its noodle soups and rice plates. I, myself, always gravitate back to two favorites: the fried salt and pepper pork chops and the Szechuan fish. You may have noticed in our other reviews of Chinese restaurants that I love Szechuan or spicy chilli-flavored preparations of white fish, and Taiwan Cafe’s (large) rendition is no exception. If you go, you should order it. Next time I go, I will order it, too. Buttt… we didn’t order it on this visit.

Instead, we ordered the fried pork chop rice plate (now $7.50 ;_;) and the Taiwan-style noodles along with an order of the roast beef scallion pancakes. I decided to branch out a bit, with two dishes I’ve never had, to make the review more interesting (again, see JM Curley -- I never learn).

The fried pork chop rice plate comes with a few pieces of bone-in salt and pepper fried pork chops, a marinated tea egg, and some sort of vegetable (usually cabbage), all over ground pork rice. The portion we received was larger than I remembered getting in my $5 carryout boxes; maybe the portion increased along with the price, or perhaps the in-restaurant portions are always larger. Either way, I was happy to see more food than I was expecting, especially since it’s one of my favorite Taiwan Cafe dishes.

As for the taste, they were as good as I remember, but not quite as savory. I recall them having a saltier taste, but this time, they had a slight sweetness that counterbalanced some of the innate saltiness of the pork. The chops were, as always, beautifully fried and rich with fat. They were chopped into more-or-less bite sized pieces, and the serving of pork was generous. The green sides were boiled cabbage (which I gobbled up, it served as an excellent palate cleanser), and bitter chopped mustard greens (which were also delicious, and helped cut through the grease). The pork rice is one of my favorite parts of the place, and the ground pork rice is always tastier than it has any business being. It’s so simple, but such a wonderful complement to the heavier fried pork. Despite the excellence of everything else on the plate, the star of the show for me is always the marinated tea egg. They always come out a beautifully marbled brown color, and they take on such an amazing umami taste. I love how flavorful and enriching a simple boiled egg is for the composition of the dish. I could eat an entire bowl of them, and Matt’s dislike of firm egg yolks means that I’ll always get to eat the whole thing!

For all the times I’ve been to Taiwan Cafe, and despite my deep love of all things scallion pancake, I’ve never tried the roast beef scallion pancakes. They are a crowd favorite, and anytime you go, you will see *at least* one or two tables eating them. To be honest, I didn’t like them much. The limp, slightly-too-greasy scallion pancakes were slathered in a thick, slightly-too-sweet hoisin-based sauce, with slices of cold, slightly-too-dry roast beef and cilantro wrapped inside. The presentation was beautiful, but the flavors together didn’t quite work for me; the cloying hoisin spread and the sharpness of the cilantro clashed on my palate. Still, there has to be some reason that *everyone* likes these so much; perhaps I’m the outlier? They were a miss for me, and I would pass on them in the future.

Our last dish was the Taiwan-style sauteed noodles with pork. Once they showed up, it sunk in how much we’d over-ordered, and I was definitely hitting the wall before I even tasted them. Fortunately, after trying a bit, I didn’t regret the fact that I was already full. This was, in my opinion, a situation where quantity won out over quality. The noodles were a little too wet and oily, and were also bland, to my recollection. I’m writing this about a week and a half later, and I can’t recall anything positive or notable about those noodles, besides the fact that there were a lot of them, and I didn’t need to eat more than one bite. Fortunately, Matt liked them, and took them all home. I know for a fact that there are better items on Taiwan Cafe’s menu, and I’d encourage you to find those instead of ordering these noodles (unless Matt’s description of the dish has really hooked you).

After the meal, I was a bit conflicted. We’d ordered one dish that I knew I’d love, but both of the new things we tried, I wouldn’t order again. However, I’m (mostly) willing to chalk that up to daily variation, personal preference, and the curse of having a huge restaurant menu, since Matt liked everything, and I trust his palate. I’ll continue recommending Taiwan Cafe to people, and as long as the Szechuan fish and fried pork chops stay delicious, Taiwan Cafe will remain one of my favorites.

Overall:

We agree that based on our reviews, we think you’ll really enjoy Taiwan Cafe. At some level, you may have to be willing to get a little bit adventurous to find the really delicious stuff, but who cares when you’re paying <$10 for most dishes? Go with a group (or with a friend who’s got a complementary palate), and try a few things that sound good! Alternatively, don’t order anything until you’ve seen a few dishes go by, and then ask about and order what *looks* good. That’s the next level strat… probably.

We give Taiwan Cafe 3?? gigantic noodle dishes out of 5.

Authors’ Note: Our rating here is an odd one - we (mostly) really enjoyed our food, but for some reason we just can’t put our fingers on, neither of us is at a 4. Go figure. Fortunately, this is our food blog, so we can do what we want.

[heathbarlatte]

I forgot but looking into Crooked Man always ends up with people throwing bizarre Silent Hill 2 theories out at you

In The Crooked Man you discover that the characters you meet are all creations from the psyche of the titular character/antagonist (? I guess) (the kid with bad grades stuck in the school, Sissi in the hotel, etc) and because TCM is so obviously inspired by SH2 (”I’m waiting for you”, special place, hospital, etc), people start to theorize that TCM’s plot could be applied to SH2

Obviously Uri didn’t work on SH2 (...right?) but it is interesting. I’ve read a million American Silent Hill theories but despite spending a lot of time in the Japanese fandom, I never really looked for Japanese theories or anything, I figured I understood the games so I didn’t bother, but it’s interesting to see what Japanese people get out of a game made in Japan (similar to Die Fetten Jahre sind Vorbei, a (really good) German movie where the Germans have a VERY different understanding of the ending than American audiences do, which was interesting to discover)

The theory is that the other characters encountered in Silent Hill by James are creations of different parts of his psyche and not “real” - just created by the power of the town. Everyone says this about Maria because the game makes that obvious but I’d never seen anyone suggest that Eddie, Laura, and Angela are actually parts of James and not real people who also came to Silent Hill. It’s interesting in a way, but I wonder what this means?

Eddie is an angry and vengeful man who indiscriminately kills people who bully him - does this mean James was bullied, and has some rage inside of him for the people who bullied him? Angela is a scared and suicidal teen with family issues who suffered terrible abuse from her father and brother while her mother told her it was her fault - did James go through this? Of course, that seems pretty unlikely. It doesn’t fit with his character, and if James had these issues, I think they’d manifest in different ways. So if the theory is true, why do Angela and Eddie exist as they do?

I think it’s definitely an interesting theory but you have to look past the obvious. If James’ psyche created these people, then why? If not because they have the same issues he has, then why? Maybe these people needed to exist as they do to facilitate James’ journey in Silent Hill. Eddie exists to push James to have to kill him, to make James realize before arriving at the Lakeview Hotel that he is capable of murder, so that his first thought as he watches the videotape isn’t, “But I could never kill another human being,” because he knows he already can.

So what about Angela? One thing I think is interesting is that Angela seems almost forgotten by the time you see her for the last time. She asks for her knife back, and when James refuses, she gives him a cold, “Planning on using it for yourself?” James says, “Me? No, I’d never kill myself,” no matter what ending you’re going for (not 100% sure on this, but I do think that ending is locked in by this point - which makes this conversation decidedly bitter when you’re locked in to the In Water ending by this point). Why does Angela show up when she does for her final meeting? James has faced what kind of person he is, and remembered everything about Mary and her death. The only thing left to do at this point is to confront those things. James meets Angela for the last time after he’s been forcefully shown who he is and what he’s done, but between room 312 and the final battle with Pyramid Head, he doesn’t confront it. He’s just existing with this knowledge slowly sinking back into him - he’s being forced to come out of a dissociative state his brain protectively put him into after the terrible thing he did. (Trauma doesn’t always have to be done to you by someone else. Sometimes you can inflict trauma on yourself, too.)

In this final meeting, Angela at first is confused like James was - in fact, in this short scene, Angela mimics James’ entire journey. Like James mistook Maria for his wife, Angela mistakes James for her mother, then realizes her mistake and immediately folds in on herself with guilt. James tries to tell her it isn’t her fault, and her idea of her guilt isn’t true, but Angela refutes him. She realizes she’s alone in this (as James can’t take care of her or absolve her) and goes up the stairs to confront what happened to her. 

While I obviously don’t agree that Angela’s “guilt” exists at all, much less is anywhere near James’ level of guilt, Angela’s existence and interaction with James at that moment in his journey is incredibly important. James watches Angela go to face her demons, walking through the fire, and so when he meets his demons (Pyramid Head), he realizes he can either walk towards them and surrender himself, or he can fight. Either way, he has to confront the truth of what happened and who he is, and I think that if he hadn’t seen Angela do the same only moments before, he would have been lost in that moment. Instead, James faces Pyramid Head with determination. “I was weak. That’s why I needed you. I needed someone to punish me for my sins. But that’s all over now - I know the truth. Now it’s time to end this.”

Angela, an abuse victim who killed her family after withstanding years of abuse from them; and Eddie, a victim of bullies who lashed out. Both are people who were driven to violence after undergoing terrible situations inflicted on them. While we can’t look at the specifics and see those mirrored in James (abuse, bullying, etc) we can certainly see the similarities if we pull back a little bit and focus on a bigger picture. James creates these people subconsciously because his mind is struggling to comprehend what he’s gone through. Eddie and Angela both present themselves as innocent victims who came to Silent Hill to find someone, like James. Only over time is it revealed that they killed. James creates these people and comes to understand what they did, because understanding a similar situation in two different ways, both of which are removed from him, is easier to comprehend. By the time he has to comprehend his own situation, he’s had practice. His mind can accept it, because he watched both Eddie and Angela, and learned lessons from them.

It also explains why they’re coincidentally both in Silent Hill at the same time as James, able to access where he is when others aren’t, and pop up in places that should be difficult to access, with timing that seems to benefit James.

So now we go out on a little bit more of a limb... where did the ideas of Angela and Eddie come from? James does not strike me as a creative man. While the official SH2 website was still up on konami.co.jp (is it still? I’m not sure, that was like 2002) I took great care to read and translate it - and it did list James’ profession as a “clerk”. Could it be possible that James works in a prison, or in some kind of governmental position which would allow him access to read over cases like this? Does James happen to subconsciously remember these people from his job and create them in Silent Hill because his mind made connections between them and between what he did? It’s important to remember that James also sees himself as a victim, even up until the very end. In one ending, he tells Mary, “That’s why I did it, honey! I just couldn’t watch you suffer! ...No, that’s not true. You also said that you didn’t want to die. The truth is, I hated you. I wanted you out of the way. I wanted my life back.” (Or, “The truth is, part of me hated you, for taking away my life...” depending on ending.) While Mary is clearly the victim of her disease, James views himself as a victim of it, as well. (This is pretty clear in the game, and also ties into James’ sexuality but if I start talking about that I’m going to get off track here.) I’m not sure how I feel about this personally, but whether he’s right or wrong, James sees himself as a victim of what happened to him, and because of that situation, he was driven to violence, just like Angela and Eddie.

If anyone is actually reading this I commend you by the way, this is long rambling shit and I’m pretty sure no one will read this by now. Anyway I’m not sure how much I believe this theory myself, but it is definitely extremely plausible. Previously I had figured that Eddie and Angela were two separate people going through their own journeys in Silent Hill, but the idea that it could be different is interesting.

Also, this theory has left Laura out, and I would have to do more thinking about that (although she could definitely still work into this, in different ways). 

Anyway, play Silent Hill 2 and play The Crooked Man even if you don’t think it’s worth thinking about the two completely separate games together, they’re still both very good and worth your time, sorry if you got spoilers.