#which would make some sense for them to be aware of the dupes but the extent of that knowledge is a question that remains

[arolesbianism]

If I had the freedom of not knowing there is going to be future new lore stuff added to oni I would do unspeakable things to so many of these guys. Or Id just make them normal guys who just sorta exist. Either or.

[swinstudent]

Slow fashion v. Fast fashion and our influences online…

Remember when wearing real animal fur coats represented wealth, class and therefore beauty? 

Today, with society's constantly evolving ideals, wearing animal products represents ignorance and abuse. 

I used this point as an example of how unethical fashion trends can be drastically eliminated, if the right steps are taken, such as strong negative media coverage and powerful individuals speaking up against them, in particular on the topic of Fast Fashion. 

Instead, majority of these Influencers ultimately drive consumers purchasing habits as social media and brands fuel them with a career of flaunting brands, highlighting a new world for marketing and fashion...

Social structures and societal norms are what drive peoples decisions, Fast Fashion for example, which recently was more normalised during the Covid-19 lockdown - whereby becoming first name basis and friendly with the postman on his daily visits was not seen as extra…

It was because of new found boredom and the popularity of the online concept #hauls on platforms such as #TikTok, that steered individuals towards certain products and brands represented by influencers like #sophadopha and #annapaul - which still seems to have the same effect as lockdown came to a close for majority of countries a while ago now…

Therefore, as people are learning the damaging effects of fast fashion toward the environment, “recognized as one of the most polluting industries at all stages of its life cycle” (Domingos et al., 2022) and steering away from fast fashion - so are some influences and therefore brands in order to keep up with consumers demands

For example, “Zara is now implementing classical and durable products at their stores, which carry a higher price.” (Domingos et al., 2022)

Larger companies, however, might see a withdrawal from consumers as online education on fast fashion is likely to prevail, as individuals have a voice that is seemingly becoming as influential as traditional forms of media. 

Alongside social media and influencers, fashion and style continues to be so prevalent as a result of individuals sense of identity and worth, those that follow the trends in order to fit in, may be pushed to consume fast fashion dupes depending on their financial situation. Evidently making societies that are driven by marketing, through digital platforms, harder to persuade. 

However, “Promoting the idea that a sustainable consumption leads to a very positive and effective image could be a potential solution for achieving an increase in Slow Fashion.” (Domingos et al., 2022)

Overall, It is import to reference the ability of social media and digital citizenship to create change, and spread awareness of issues that may not be popular in the news or other types of traditional media…which we could assume the push towards slow fashion may not be priority news as certain markets and the economy would see a loss. 

At the extent of the environment. 

Digital change helps.

References - 

Domingos, M., Vale, V.T. and Faria, S. (2022) Slow fashion consumer behavior: A literature review, Sustainability, 14(5), p. 2860. Available at: https://doi.org/10.3390/su14052860.

Chi, T. et al. (2021) A study of U.S. consumers intention to purchase slow fashion apparel: Understanding the key determinants, International Journal of Fashion Design, Technology and Education, 14(1), pp. 101112. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1080/17543266.2021.1872714. 

[00towns]

three diys for spring

Much like in an old Western, I find that when the season begins to change my hands twitch to buy new things like a hardened cowboy wiggles his fingers over his pistol, prepared to draw at the slightest prompt. Like the cowboy, I'm perhaps too aware of my own trope: stuff has started to feel like a subculture. The unintentional mindfulness imparted by moving back home has allowed me to finally clearly assess how much stuff I've acquired through a half dozen moves over the last four years and a half dozen more international trips in that same time. I am tired of consuming out of instinct. I would like to extend the grace to my things to allow them to age, yellow, fray.

One thing that no one will tell you about becoming a more mindful consumer is how important it is to literally touch your stuff as much as possible. Feel the fabric of things that you already like, notice texture, stretch, structure. Note what motifs or characteristics that you gravitate towards, get your hands deep into the pockets, zippers, folds. Write everything down. When you know more about how your things are made and work, you know better how to fix them if they break, change them over time to suit evolving needs, and therefore extend their life over and over. To calm my trigger-happy hand hovering over my gun holster, twitching in anticipation of the instant gratification of new stuff, I've handmade some items I've had my eye on or refreshed items I already owned, and in the process created three unique pieces that are not only custom to my measurements, preferences, and personal sense of style, but I know how to repair, edit should my tastes change, and style.

1. Seulgi got bitten by a dog and now I have a new top

To be clear, the dog was just playing and she was definitely fine afterwards. Kitty sent me the video and I have to say, my intrusive thoughts won.

I broke the top down into characteristics that I liked: I liked the color, the open knit texture, and a less weighty yarn for wearing crocheted fabrics in warmer weather. I was getting bored of the 4/5.5mm that I had beaten to death for two large afghan projects last year, and wanted to attempt a mid-size crochet before investing in any finer yarn or hooks for some other projects I've had in mind. I'm still not a skilled enough crocheter to work more complicated things like wearables without a pattern, so I found this pattern online and bought it for $6. The pattern recommended a fingering weight yarn, but I found superfine to be difficult to source at the craft store rather than a specialty yarn store, so I bumped it up to a 3 / 4.0mm and hoped for the best. After some math to account for a lower wraps per inch, the top came together quickly.

I was surprised with how much I liked it, especially considering the amount of scrolling on Ravelry I had to do in order to find anything fitting my exact brief, and the copious edits I had to do to fix a poorly written pattern. It's not perfect (I quite obviously dropped a stitch on the left strap, but in my defense, that's my tote bag side so it'll never be seen), but I'm happy that I was able to create something inspired but not a carbon copy. Crochet also isn't replicable by machine and is labor intensive, so I was glad to make it rather than buy it from a producer with questionable ethics.

2. Reverse engineering

This project was more of an attempt at a 1:1 dupe than my first project, which is much more my typical modus operandi, but I'll rebut that the source material I was working from was of vastly different quality. I found this picture on Pinterest, and immediately thought, 'I could do that'.

I already had the pants in mind when I set out to try this, meaning that I didn't need to wait for the right piece to materialize at the thrift store. I bought these khaki Dickies to wear for a weirdly smart-casual dress code internship a few years ago but hadn't reached for them in a while because of their awkward length and color, both of which I knew I could change if I attempted this DIY. They were also straight-leg, which I suspected the V-split hem would open up just the right amount for a gentle bell shape as in the reference picture.

One thing I knew would be a concern going into this project was the task of neatly hemming the awkward shape of the cutout, particularly the sharp inner corner. As the fabric tapered off, I wouldn't be able to sew it down and the corner itself was likely to fray. To remedy this, I added the tiniest strip of fabric, doubled over to create a clean edge, to extend the width of the hem so that both sides would overlap to reinforce the point. I also pressed and sewed the pleated inserts at this point, also requiring a bit of trial and error. Pleats this small decreased the length of the piece by about half, so I was using an entire yard of fabric to go around the circumference of the pant leg. Some Googling also taught me that a 1:2 mixture of vinegar and water, sprayed on and then ironed, helps keep pleats sharp and in place, so I had to let the inserts hang dry in my bathroom for a few days to let the smell dissipate.

As you can see, I initially sewed the outside set of stitches on the hem (everything in this project was sewn by hand, because I just can't bring myself to invest in a sewing machine), assuming that when dyed black the stitches would disappear. Clearly, I was optimistic about this plan working, because they were incredibly haphazard. Despite being ugly, the shape of the cutout was coming together correctly, and I moved onto dying the pants black using synthetic fabric dye to account for the cotton polyester mix. The first round came out of the dryer an extremely underwhelming gray, but the second round, done on the stovetop, produced a dark gray that I was happy with as a lighter alternative to black for spring. However, this meant that the ugly black stitches running down either side of the V were extremely visible, and I ripped out the stitches and turned to iron-on hem tape to hold everything together and not have to compromise the overall effect, despite initially wanting to stay away from it for washability purposes.

I attached the inserts by turning everything inside out and using the hem tape to attach the sewn edge of the pleats just above the V-cutout, hiding the seam and adding just about an inch to the length of the pants. At this point I was extremely satisfied with how everything was coming together. The final details were just the bows, which I was increasingly suspect of, all the way up until I attached them.

I already had a little bit of chain and sewed tiny loops onto the bit of loose hem on the inside of the V-hem so the join would be invisible. These are, in effect, crowdsourced pants.

At time of post I still haven't decided which looks better, but again, knowing the construction of these will allow me to easily change from option to another, extending the wearability and life of these. The one downside is that I will likely have to spot clean these as much as possible, because any washing, machine or by hand, will totally destroy the pleats because I didn't starch them (I didn't have any, and I was getting sick of running to the store). Barring any major disaster, these will probably spend a few hours in the freezer between wears to kill any bacteria, a la Japanese raw denim enthusiasts. Should push come to shove, I can remove the bow/chain detail and repress the pleats using the vinegar trick because they're sown down, but please, no one wedding-guest-wearing-white me.

3. Reverse engineering, but make it /r/FashionReps hates me

This technically isn't something I did recently, but it's still one of my favorites. I saw someone on Tiktok wearing the Rick Owens Docs, and I didn't even have to Google them to know they would be impossible to find and exorbitantly expensive.

Instead, I kept an eye on Poshmark for a few months before finding a pair of white platform Chelsea Docs for $40. The white leather hadn't held up nicely in color but they were otherwise solid in wear and construction. I rubbed off the finish with some rubbing alcohol and painted them black using acrylic leather paint, effectively disguising any damage. I bought the longest white shoelaces I could find and got them to a dirty gray by soaking them in water with the tiniest amount of black paint. Working first with eyelash glue just to place the O-rings correctly, I laced them up and came up with these dupes.

This worked for a picture, but I had to bite the bullet and drill holes into the boots to screw the O-rings down instead of just gluing them (the coward's option). This ended being the right decision, because they sit much more nicely and are much sturdier. I ended up with a visually similar pair of boots for a tenth of the price that no one but a specific type of Rick Owens fashion chad would call me out for.

Because this isn't a recent DIY, I can report back that these have needed a little TLC after heavy wear to get them looking good again. I'm pretty rough with them, so leather paint sometimes cracks and expose the white at certain pressure points, which is a 10-second fix. The O-rings tend to break, especially at the toes, because they're not really meant to withstand the roughness of shoe-wear, but I have extras so I can replace them quickly. I cannot express how often I reach for these, and how important it has been that I can fix them myself.

4. Conclusion?

Touch your stuff. I'm so serious.

[getwoold]

ok wait here's the transcription of the purple duo + mapicc convo from yesterday cuz i know some ppl missed the stream, it's not like professional or whatever but its here :P under the cut!

mapicc: i believe we have... i wouldn't say we have mutual interests, more of a "we're both fucked" kind of thing.

vitalasy: why?

mapicc: essentially, we both have incredibly dangerous criminals on both of our teams.

vitalasy: who's a criminal on our team?

subz: yeah, who's our criminal, what are you talking about?

mapicc: princezam. so i gotta start from the beginning. we never trust spoke because he has these weird like, stories and interactions with people. i'm sure you know why ro and i don't talk to zam anymore.

subz: he betrayed you guys, right, left your team?

mapicc: no, so essentially, you're aware that me and ro have done some duping on the server in the past, and we had a bunch of god apples and stuff. the war ended with spoke getting banned, and zam thinking that it wasn't right. that's why zam took all of the dupe stashes we had hid across the server, and "burned them." that's why we don't like zam.

subz: mhm

mapicc: here's the issue, i have reason to believe that zam's on your team to infiltrate, and spoke is on our team to infiltrate, and they have combined together, they both have duped items, they're studying the server and they're gonna take it over.

vitalasy: zam and spoke?

mapicc: zam and spoke, correct. i have SO much evidence, bro.

vitalasy: they have the duped– i didn't even know you guys still had duped stuff.

subz: no, it's been gone for a little while, supposedly.

mapicc: it's out there. so here's the issue, i'm gonna talk to you about what happened today. i don't know if you guys have been in contact with zam much, have you?

subz: uh, a little

mapicc: so i know exactly why. today, walli was getting camped and spoke said "hold on, my associate's arriving." and somebody invis, we can see on tab, we're fighting you guys, you're fighting us, and then there's zam in the middle. and i know for a fact that it was zam because i saw zam log off, and i saw exactly at the time he logged off the invis disappeared. zam gave wallibear a bunch of stuff today to help him and me and spoke. and then the other day, parrot was banned, you guys are aware that parrot was banned?

subz: yeah, yeah he was banned.

mapicc: right. so he was revived by somebody. this is what doesn't make sense to me. basically–

vitalasy: i thought spoke revived him?

mapicc: that's what we thought! cuz parrot thought that too! parrot went "oh, okay, here's 5 hearts" cuz parrot had 5 hearts in his echest, he wanted to get banned for his video, right? he was like "here's 5 hearts to pay you back." spoke then called me later, he was like "yeah i had an associate revive parrot for me and he didn't know that so he gave me 5 hearts and now i'm up 5 hearts. and what i heard, the next day he was like "he also saved me from the void which was really nice."

mapicc: i was like oh that's cool your associate sounds nice, i don't ask spoke about his private things cuz he's like evil and secretive all the time, but i assume he has nothing against me. and the next day i'm in vc with zam and he says "yeah spoke did a silly when leo crystaled him, he was in the void and i had to save him." so i know for a fact zam is the person that revived parrot, but zam has not dropped in heart count for weeks now. and why would zam be willing to revive parrot for spoke? because he has duped items that literally mean nothing to him, they're like nothing they're just there, he has infinite stuff, he just doesn't use it.

subz: true

mapicc: which is why zam is SO damn willing to always push at me and lose a million hearts, have you noticed that?

subz: yeah yeah yeah you're right

vitalasy: wait, zam wanted to team up with us and get walli out.

mapicc: exactly, and i'm terrified because he gave walli stuff.

vitalasy: (overlapping) no but he wouldn't need the hearts if he had duped hearts, he wouldn't need the hearts.

subz: true, he wouldn't need any hearts out of this.

mapicc: well he doesn't have– he's not gonna use them, it's like money laundering. he can't use a heart unless he's gained the heart somehow. it's not gonna make sense if he screenshares every time and he's always at 20 hearts and you never know why.

vitalasy: hm

subz: true

mapicc: i'm POSITIVE zam is not on your side, and i'm positive spoke is not on our side.

subz: okay so what are you wanting us to do exactly?

mapicc: that being said, i think we're still at combat but i think you guys should be really really wary about zam from now on.

vitalasy: if they ARE a team, which we don't know they are, do you wanna have like, a baby alliance? like we can still keep fighting but like–

mapicc: yeah cuz we still disagree on things but let's make a verbal agreement. if spoke and zam ever end up teaming up or looking like they're gonna team up, immediately on sight we are allied. and we just go for them immediately.

vitalasy: okay.

mapicc: that seems fair to me.

vitalasy: so we set differences aside, just go for it?

mapicc: just go for it, go for spoke and zam. cuz they're worse than any of us, they don't even wanna protect spawn.

vitalasy: so i shouldn't ask zam about any of the like, dupes or anything?

mapicc: he's in your team, whatever you wanna do you can do. if you wanna confront him, confront him. but i mean... i don't know.

vitalasy: no no, i think we should keep it a secret.

mapicc: and here's the thing, another reason i have to believe– you guys are aware of the 2 billion heart glitch, vitalasy probably more than most people.

subz: yeah LOL

vitalasy: by accident!!

mapicc: the night they found it, it was terrain, spoke, and zam, okay? those three reported it to parrot. what i heard the other day is– i accidentally burned a heart, we were trying to look for ways to revive parrot by spending less. we were missing a heart for some reason, and we needed to revive somebody. basically, spoke messages me, he goes "okay, if everything goes to shit, i have coordinates from somebody to a double chest of hearts from the 2 billion heart glitch."

subz & vitalasy: what???

mapicc: he says he has a double chest of hearts somewhere on the server.

subz: you're positive? he's not even bluffing or saying bullshit?

mapicc: no, he has a double chest of hearts somewhere from the glitch. and we know terry and zam are the only two who knew about that. and terry never really gives a shit about lifesteal lore. i'm like 100% sure zam is–

vitalasy: doesn't that mean he trusts you then? doesn't that mean you can get it somehow?

mapicc: spoke trusts me like crazy, but if he's evil he's not gonna trust me enough to go get a double chest of hearts for him.

vitalasy: no no, like if you can get close enough to him to get to the hearts and then what, do you wanna burn them?

mapicc: how would i do that though?

vitalasy: you need to do some social engineering you know?

mapicc: cuz realistically, the only ways to bring that up, he's not just gonna fill me in on his evil plans one day randomly.

vitalasy: i don't know... spoke is weird.

mapicc: spoke is SO weird. and i know that spoke is doing a whole thing where at the end of lifesteal he's gonna do like a 15 part series and he told me the "big reveal" is that he was evil the whole time.

vitalasy: well that's every single time!

subz: yeah, he's always evil, he's always been evil.

mapicc: that's why i think he was safe to tell me. i don't know, the whole point is look out for princezam. and we have a mutual agreement that if they ever do end up being evil, you know.

[whump-town]

Lie to Me

Guess who's back on their shit?

Another cancer fic for you because there's something very weird about me that stays drawn to the idea of secretly being sick

Anyways

Warnings: well... cancer

Pairings: none? yet.

Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner has a certain reputation around the office. The BAU’s ghost, walking around in his leather dress shoes and fancy suits without so much as a groan from the old, torn tile beneath his feet or the muffled swish of the material of his slacks. You never know he’s there until he wants you to and by then it’s always too late. By luck of his poor hearing or his natural affinity for silence, nothing admitted in his silent presence ever graces his lips for a repeat. The secrets all die with him. He’s as loyal as a dog -- in ways that lead to natural gravitation. The reason why Penelope Garcia beams at him every time their paths cross, why she so eagerly rushes to match his pace. To just walk beside him and talk his ear off even though she knows her answers will come in the form of soft hums and furrowed brows. In other ways, it’s killed him. Left him to live the life of a lame dog, dragging his dying body away from them. Hoping to spare them the agony of his death.

Some things that people say about SSA Hotchner are true. He really does move like a ghost and it’s a thing of great mystery and annoyance. It’s cost Emily Prentiss numerous mugs but perhaps the flash of his smug crooked grin makes that worth the shattered cup at their feet (she wouldn’t agree with that statement). He’s made Derek Morgan nearly jump out of his skin, whirling around to attack whatever snuck up on him only to find Hotch frowning back at him. If asked, David Rossi will blame Hotch for 79% of the grey hairs on his head because he hadn’t even begun to go grey until he met Hotch.

He’s really not as scary as people make him out to be.

Penelope Garcia wishes everyone knew that. She wishes cadets looked at Hotch the way that they look at Derek and Spencer. As awe-inspiring giants, they crane their necks to look up to. Instead, they lower their eyes away from him. Whispering to one another about the rumors and the things that they have been told. They regard him as a lesson -- someone to measure their existence against. To know when to get out of the job. To know when they can no longer turn back.

He’d saved her when it seemed no one else in the world really looked at her. She’d watched him take her homemade pink stationary in his hands, held it delicately as he looked over what menial ideas she could think of. He’d looked at her kindly, not at all like the snobby FBI brat she assumed him to be, and shaken her hand, “Thank you, Miss Garcia.” For the months following her career change, he’d been too kind. Brought her lunch to her desk because she was too anxious to leave her office. Gave her advice about where to park and how to miss Strauss in the hallways.

As important as his approval is to her, his well-being is more important. So, no, she doesn’t turn away when she sees him on Saturday in the emergency room. He’s sleeping off a cocktail they’d given him, turns out it’s rather hard to place a catheter near the heart when it’s beating erratically. His anxiety had nearly caused him to be sick and so he’d agreed, finally, to let them give him something to calm him down. Which is where Garcia finds him, left arm cradled to his chest, too long limbs hanging off the stretcher, and breathing slow and steady through the oxygen canal under his nose. A precaution, that’s all, given the sedatives they’d doped him up with.

“Sir?”

The fingers in his left-hand twitch, flexing towards his palm and he grunts softly at the pain that the movement causes. Slowly, breathing hitching and his eyes fluttering open, he wakes up. He’d heard, vacantly, the hesitant “sir” from the end of the bed but he assumed it was a nurse. As his eyes rise up to search the room he’s surprised, entirely so that he thinks he’s hallucinating, to find Penelope.

“Are you okay?”

He’s still piecing together the last few hours but nods. Cracking open his dry lips he swallows thickly, trying to work his voice around the tightness in his throat. Dehydrated and still disoriented he reaches for the cup of water left for him but at the current angle that he’s laying at, he can’t get it. He clears his throat, sniffling, “can you, ugh--” He’s still looking at the cup, dazed to the point he can’t think of the words he means to say. Tired eyes look back at her, pleading silently that she understands.

Penelope nods, moving forward instinctively. She doesn’t look at him, at his dark blood dried to his arm. His hospital gown stopping just at the clear protective barrier between her and the port placed on the inside of his arm. “Here,” she whispers. She needs to be closer so he doesn’t have to stretch but can’t bring herself to be close. Not within his reach. Not so close that she can see the dark rings of sleepless nights carved under his eyes. Far enough away that the tremble in his hand is easily overlooked. So that he doesn’t seem as weak and frail as his voice sounds.

He sips the water, knows from too many mistakes not to drink too much just yet. “Why are you here?” He nearly sounds like himself, dark brows furrowed and voice taken its steady, deep rhythm back.

She looks over her shoulder, past the curtain pulled around them for the sake of privacy. “I, uhm, volunteer for a support group that meets every Saturday here at the hospital.” She points to the front desk, to a woman with curly hair pulled back in two ponytails. “I came downstairs to say hi to Mac and I saw you and I just…” Suddenly, realizes how she shouldn’t be here. That if he wanted comfort he’d have told them, or someone.

Wait. Stop.

That doesn’t matter. Hotch doesn’t know what’s good for him. Everyone knows that. So she made the right decision to come over here.

“You’re not driving yourself home, right?”

In her silent contemplation, he’d began to fall asleep again. The cup in his hand dangerously tipped and eyes held open by slow, deepening blinks.

“Hotch?” She touches his hand, flinching away at just how cold his skin is.

He cracks his eyes back open, cracks of soft brown iris finding her slowly. He hums, mouth cracked open.

“Will you let me take you home?”

Home. He hums again, vaguely aware of her warm hand coming to rest over his. Moving his stiff fingers away from the cup, taking it from him so he doesn’t spill it over himself.

It’s meticulous work, keeping him awake. Even harder making sure he gets dressed but once he’s sitting up he’s much more alert, grumpy now for being duped into asking her for help. She’d offered it but that means nothing to him. He’s no less thrilled to find his brain too foggy and arm too weak to work his arm through his sweater. She still smiles when his head pops through, hair a crazy mess on his head.

She packs him carefully into her car, a boxy little thing he’d frowned at when she bought it. He’d been the reason behind Morgan and Reid both coming to her office with statistics and fear about the safety of it but she’d loved it. He’s a worrier, prone to stewing and her car had taken up a lot of his energy for the first year she owned it. Now he’s being packed into the green monstrosity, senses assaulted by incense. Everything’s sparkly and he ends up sitting with a teddy bear in his lap, a troll in his hand. He’d taken their rightful place as her passenger.

His legs do not fit no matter how far back he moves his seat back and Penelope feels awful that he looks so uncomfortable but also finds it to be humorous. His knees to his ears, dark scary Agent Hotchner holding a stuffed bear to his chest, head resting against the window. It’s sweet.

It’s fairly easy to figure what his thought process today when she pulls up to his house and no one’s home. Jack’s camping, she learns. He’s dozed off again, prone and more willing to whisper half-truths. Will be away for the whole weekend until Tuesday morning. Jessica is getting her nails and hair done, he’d made the appointment just to make sure she really did it. The haircut should have ended just in time that he could call her and ask if she’d pick him up from the hospital. Where he thought he would have already artfully hidden the PICC line under his sweater and played the affair off as a routine sort of deal. A check-up.

“Sir…” she’s standing now, awkwardly, in his living room. The curtains are drawn back the way he likes, closing off the sun. He’s tucked under his heating blanket, trying to remain awake for the sake of the fact that it’s rude to fall asleep while entertaining guests. Yet, failing miserably. “Sir, I was just wondering… Is everything okay?”

“I’m--” the truth nearly slips right out. He clears his throat, managing to sit up just enough to catch her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Garcia. Jessica will be around in an hour.” He holds his left hand closed, trying to stop his cramped fingers from twitching. “Dave and Emily are coming by for dinner. I’ll be okay.”

It’s completely unethical.

It’s so unprofessional.

But she can’t help herself.

Her eyes prick with tears when Emily shakes her head in the kitchenette, the sound of Hotch’s wet coughs breaking through his closed office door. “He needs to get that checked out,” she sighs, hiding her bleeding worry with annoyance. “Sounds awful.” And Penelope stands there with Hotch’s secret tongue-tied.

He’s getting worse and fast.

She gets a call from Derek, seething anger laced into his words. “He fucking-- He fucking just-- .” She knows it’s really just fear. Can hear him walking, his rapid pacing as he tries to outwalk his expanse of emotions. “He -- He shouldn’t be in the field. I mean, it’s like he didn’t even see it coming. He was just…” She remains steady. Wipes the tears that slip past her eyelashes with the back of her hand. Derek cries, on the ground with his knees to his chest, and he tells her what happened. How Hotch was paying attention to him and if he hadn’t been then maybe…

She greets them at the elevator, feels her smile attempt to waver when Hotch’s tired eyes raise from the ground. The bruise along his cheek a deep agonizing yellow, the wound on his temple still weeping angrily through the bandage. He can’t fly until his concussion is healed, longer if his tinnitus doesn’t get better. “It’ll be fun having you home,” she assures him, giving his fingers an extra squeeze.

Luck, it seems, has never seemed to favor Aaron Hotchner’s particular brand of bold.

Working at the District Attorney’s had been a morally fulfilling job. In theory, he could rest assured, each night, that he was doing what he could to help people. He was putting the real bad guys behind the bars. Even as his dreams filled with the images of the victims who had to wait for months, and even years, to get their proper justice. In reality, he slept poorly and rarely. Unable to properly maintain his workload without impossibly long hours. With time he found his work to be unfulfilling. He was doing nothing to stop crime from happening and sinking further into the realization that was failing more people than he could ever begin to help.

In court, he was ruthless. Haley didn’t like the man he became in the courtroom. Ruthless and harsh, he appeared evil and terrifying with his hawk-like eyes and infallible ability to pinpoint weaknesses in his opposers. Around the office, they nicknamed his alter-ego “Hot-head Hotchner” because the Aaron that gets flushed ordering lunch couldn’t possibly be the same man who made a man wet himself on the stand. Haley couldn’t agree more.

Hot-head Hotchner got him offered a job in corporate law, several firms were throwing big numbers at him to encourage that lasered focus to be on their side. Lest they find themselves opposing it. Morally, he could never go into corporate law but the offer to spend hours bending law into something pliable and poking holes in judicial wordings was compelling. It would be complex, rewarding work with a big pay-out. Better than the shitty salary he made at the D.A.’s office. Before he could make the compromise he met David Rossi and he never got his chance to bend the law to his will, he held his moral ground and instead changed career paths.

It was bold leaving what he knew he was good at for something new entirely.

A costly decision.

He never got to fulfill his secret desire to mold the law but bending the truth wasn’t a far cry from the same thing. Lying has never been something he felt comfortable with and that had no exceptions. He hadn’t wanted to tell the team Emily had died but that had far less to do with his morals and so much more to do with a picture much bigger than himself. The hell he knew that would rain down upon them in the weeks to come. The inability of the team to cope. Intuitively something holding them back and what they could only assume was a stage of grief.

To Emily Prentiss, he has never lied. Stretched versions of the truth he maintains to not be the same thing as a lie. If they count then his answer would be different but the eye of the beholder adds context. And as the holder of this context, he resolutes the power to declare them very different.

“New girlfriend?”

He’s breathing through a bought of nausea attempting to take him off his feet. The cold countertop biting into the skin of his wrist, his palm pressed flat to the surface so that he doesn’t grip the edge. So that his pale bloodless knuckles holding onto dear life do not betray the severity of which he fears he might get sick or pass out.

His phone is on the counter, turned upside down so that he doesn’t have to see the screen light up with every new text that comes through. The high-pitched “ding” of each new message is lost to the tinnitus he’s been succumbing to now for the better part of the week. No amount of coffee or Tylenol has helped.

Raising his gaze makes the pounding in his head worse but he has to meet Emily’s questioning gaze. They’ve started to notice his “off” behavior. His inability to stand for long amounts of time without physical drain. His decision to stay home on the last several cases, working here with Garcia rather than joining them in the field. The way he relies on Morgan’s lead more than he used to, falling silent and allowing the other man to make decisions. He suspects they just assume he’s looking into retiring or that he’s struggling to kick his “chest cold”, he doesn’t bother correcting them.

“No,” he manages, swallowing around the heaviness of his tongue. The way his mouth seems full of salival added pangs to his stomach as he knows he’s going to be sick. “It’s Jessica.” She’s angry with him and for good reason, though he doesn’t offer an explanation as to why.

Emily hums, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. “What’d you did you do to piss her off?” In other circumstances, he might assume she’s attempting to pry. She’s just here for another cup of coffee, offering him a way to release some of his stress. No hard feelings if he suggests she fuck off and willing to lend an ear if he wants to talk. She’s not holding her breath but she hopes he comes undone. That he admits to some awful conspiracy and that this whole time they’ve been in some twisted social experiment to see how unified they actually are. That he isn’t as sick as he looks. That he’s just in a low spot and in a month he’ll be putting the weight back on and Derek will be telling them all about training for another marathon. How Reid could do more pushups than Hotch.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch whispers. He tries to step away from the counter. Feels the temperature in the room drops several degrees, his skin broken out in goosebumps. “I think to sit down,” he says frantically, knows now he needs to sit before he passes out.

Emily grabs his arm, tries to help him up. To get him to the chair that’s right there, so close.

“Hotch?” Derek jogs into the kitchen, he’d seen from afar and come running. “Emily, what’s wrong?”

Emily helps him to the ground, hand holding the back of his neck as his body starts sinking faster, beyond his control. She sits down on the ground beside him, eyes scanning across his body to find a feasible answer. Below her, Hotch’s breathing has gone rapid and shallow. His eyes rolled back into his head, neck-craning as he unconsciously fights to get air into his lungs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know. He just-- He was just--” Hotch wheezes, an awful sound. He chokes, blood coming to paint his lips. To coat his teeth.

“Hotch?” Derek moves to his side, picking up Hotch’s shoulder to move him onto his side. “Hotch, answer me!”

His only reply is a wet gurgle, a blood-coated wheeze.

[jq37]

The Case File – Mice and Murder Ep 2

The Case of the Dismal Dinner

Summary

Welcome back to our flashback/Tisch fight already in progress where we learn what Daisy and Sly’s shared look was about while Rekha and Grant go for the proverbial jugular emotionally. It’s 12 years ago and Sylvester is tracking down a stolen diadem, the very same diadem that he sees Daisy swipe off the thief who has it (a jackal named Roscoe McCoy in case that matters). Sly swipes it back from her and, when she notices, she sniffs it down to his train car where he is sitting in the dark, waiting for her. He doesn’t turn the lights on, opting instead to dramatically strike a match to light his pipe, illuminating himself sitting in a big chair, holding the stolen item.

Daisy tries to bluff like she’s Virginia Chase, the owner of the diadem, but Sly knows that’s not true because he was hired by the real Virginia to track it down. Daisy is usually a better liar than this but she is insta-smitten by this figurative and literal fox and it’s throwing her off her game. But before they can continue their little tete-a-tete, they hear a gunshot ring out from Daisy’s room and know Roscoe and his guys are coming after her. Sly stuffs Daisy in a trunk before the boys show up and they actually seem a little impressed to meet him, him being a famous detective and all, but a Nat 1 deception means they hear Daisy being huffy in the chest and a fight/escape scene that Brennan takes over narration for ensues. 

After that, Sly and Daisy become close really quickly and partners in both senses of the word. Daisy tells him she’s an American PI and they work together on cases, travel the world, and become engaged within the year. But, the day before the wedding, when Sly is alone, he discovers all the documentation proving that Daisy lied about who she is, is actually a criminal, and has been using their partnership to sell information to other criminals.

She shows up and tries to pretend like she’s being set up but he replies, “You being duped is the only lie you’ve told I can’t believe.” He says that being with her changed him. He didn’t think he had it in him to actually love another person. He forgives her. He still wants to get married. Daisy is thrown by this reaction. She tells him she’s not gonna change for him and he might as well leave her. She’s being all unapologetic femme fatale about it but he gets the sense that under her bravado she’s low key pleading with him to give up on her. He doesn’t want to. He can’t. He still shows up the next day in his wedding tux. Daisy is nowhere to be seen. When he goes home, there’s a deerstalker cap on his porch and a note that just reads “-D”.

And we snap back to the present where Daisy is trying to figure out if she can take advantage of Lucretia’s fascination with the occult and all the rich vulnerable people present to make some money. Meanwhile, Sly has been totally rocked by seeing Daisy and is drowning his sorrows at the bar with Ollie, the otter bartender. Squire Badger (which is what I’ll be calling William) shows up and, in not so many words, threatens Sly for having not solved the case and making a fool of him. He says, “You’re not gonna rub my nose in this.” Move your nose then bitch, says Sly on a dirty 20 intimidation check. He’s sad about girl problems, not you! Squire Badger is scared off, but he looks like he knows something that Sly doesn’t. That someone is coming for him. 

Buckster (and Ian too btw) clocked the above conversation and sidles up to Sly at the bar. See, not only does Buckster know about Sly and Daisy’s history, he knew it was happening *while* it was happening. Sly used up all his cool swagger on the Squire so by the time Buckster shows up he’s a whole mess over Daisy. Buckster starts implying that maybe they can help each other out since they both dislike the Squire and with Sly’s Nat 20 Insight, they can totally clock each other’s double meanings perfectly. It’s a very cool game thing where Sly and Buckster are having an innocuous conversation about the weather or whatever but Grant and Sam are just saying what they mean. It’s like they’re having a telepathic conversation. Sly agrees that the enemy of his enemy is his friend and he’ll go along with Buck’s plans as long as he can keep his hands clean, even if he doesn’t really care for Buck himself. 

At the same time Gangie is in the kitchens getting fed (see the notes for a full list of kitchen staffers and other NPCs) and after the staff leaves, Gangie is told by Ambrose Harding (the Squire’s turtle valet) that there’s is business for him to attend to after dinner. 

Buckster talks to Lawrence Longfoot--the rabbit photographer from last ep who we learn runs a trash newspaper. He and Buck bond over being trash and he gets a pic of Sly and Buck together. 

Vicar Ian goes to talk to the Squire and basically tries to (openly) suss out whether the money was a bribe or a setup or what? Like, people are fully there (including the Lady Fawnbrook and her gossipy cat wife Tabitha). They snipe at each other a bit and then the Squire reveals that he’s talked him up to the Cardinal and the Cardinal agreed that he’s such a good vicar, he should be moved to Siberia. The decision has already been made and Ian doesn’t have the pull in the church to do anything about it. Yikes. 

Before dinner, the rat butler catches Buck and asks if he has time to talk to Squire Badger. Buck agrees to go with him and he’s taken to the billiards room where the Squire is along with Harding and James Hawkins, Squire’s Hawk war buddy (a literal war hawk). Buck immediately puts his foot in his mouth by messing up the Squire’s title with his American ignorance of British peerage rules which annoys him, the elitism of it all. The Squire’s friends leave and then Buck starts talking about PR and how this whole situation has been bad PR for the Squire and it would be a shame if his PR got even worse. The suggestion of blackmail sends the Squire into a full honey badger don’t care style rage and he knocks TF out of Buck, flips the pool table, and then catches himself and scurries off. Daisy, Sly, and Gangie all hear this conversation from their positions in the house via the pipes running through the manor. Buck picks himself up and, on a 25, realizes that two of the mouse maids were hiding behind a curtain, hearing the whole thing (specifically, Edwina Thimble and Carolyn Dickory--oh like hickory dickory doc, BRENNAN) . They were playing hooky so he flips them a coin each and they all agree that no one saw or heard anything. “Two blind mice, see how they run,” he quips as they leave (sidenote, what a morbid nursery rhyme to exist in that world--to be fair, it’s pretty morbid as is).

Lucretia decides to turn the séance into a post dinner séance but still brings Daisy and Lars to see her occult room which is full of crap from, as Rekha said, “1800s Party City”. Lucretia does a hilariously vague read on Daisy and says that there’s something happening with her involving a man she knew or maybe still knows but she’s in her feelings about Sly so it kinda shakes her up. She tries to get Lucretia to charge for her “””incredible gift””” (so she can skim off the top of course) but Lucretia thinks it would be a misuse of her ~talents~. She does give Daisy an incredibly broad as to be useless even if magic exists blessing before she leaves. 

Once she does, Daisy scopes out the room (which she realizes must have been retrofitted for Lucretia and wasn’t previously a séance room) and sees that the one thing in the room that doesn’t really match the aesthetic is a giant portrait of one of the previous squire badgers. On a 24 she notices two things: (1) the painting has recently been restored with new paint and (2) the frame is bolted to the wall. She wants to check it out but Lars is right there so she makes a note to check it out later and leaves. 

Lars, being a very ride or die friend for Sly, bounds after her and basically calls her trash and tries to tempt her with garbage so she’ll lose composure and start chowing down. She drools at the sight but keeps it together and leaves. Lars runs off to tell Sly that they were a good good dog and gives him a full play by play. 

Gangie meanwhile is watching a small argument between the butler and Harding in the servant’s quarters hallway and he realizes that he’s being talked about in veiled language. The butler is questioning Gangie’s employment and Harding says that, as servants, they shouldn’t question their master and that Gangie is employed for reasons that Squire Badger is aware of and reasons he is not. Hmm. Gangie realizes that Harding knows about his past which is weird because Gangie’s criminal record doesn’t follow him. There’s no internet. So what reason would this guy have to know about him?

Gangie doesn’t like this and decides to dip and steal some silverware on the way out. Mrs. Molesley (who I’ll be calling Mrs. M from now on) helps him (lol I’m not entirely sure if she didn’t know what he was doing or if she’s just down with stealing) and says that she’s been working there since Squire Badger was in diapers (she was his nanny) and if anyone bullies Gangie, she’ll take care of them. She also offers to make him a sweater so he doesn’t get cold and she’s just so nice that Gangie has to say yes. He looks to make sure no one is around and gives her a dandelion he picked. Cute!!!

And now it’s time for dinner and our very first box of doom roll for the most terrifying encounter of all: how close you have to sit next to your bitter ex! This is of course for Sly and Daisy with higher than a 15 meaning they don’t have to sit next to each other and anything lower meaning they have to sit pretty close. It is the first BOD roll I’ve ever wanted them to fail (mmm, except maybe Adaine’s werewolf roll but that’s a different conversation). 

It’s in the 6-10 bracket which means they’re sitting across from each other (below that would have been them next to each other). Everyone is seated based on how on Squire Badger’s shitlist they are. So you have Ian at the absolute back. Sly to his right and Daisy on his left. The Buckster and Lars to the right and left after that. Then Armond (armadillo lawyer guy) and a snail guy because Brennan is a madman who cannot be stopped. Constance (Squire’s daughter) makes a toast to her dad wishing him well even though they haven’t always seen eye to eye (hmmm).

Buckster fills in Daisy on his confrontation with the Squire quietly enough that no one else hears. Daisy then turns to Sly and says she hopes they can be civil. Sly is like, “Sure Ms. DUMPSTER.” They’re the kind of exes who know exactly how to hurt each other but are also super open to being hurt. Emotional glass cannons is how Brennan describes it. 

Buckster is given a note by Harding from Squire Badger and, once dinner is over, he takes Daisy off to the side to read it. Gangie follows, unseen. Ian, who recently prayed to God and got not super clear results goes to talk to Luecretia to see if maybe ghosts can help him instead. She is, as usual, not super helpful but does rush out to get her very necessary ritual dagger and declares to everyone that if anyone sees a ghost they have to tell her. As she says this, there is a flash of lightning and, through the window, Sylvester sees just for a moment the form of his nemesis, Fletcher Cottonbotton (who is by the docks).

Anyway, Buckster reads the note. It’s a document from the Squire selling his interest in BB Industries (Buck’s oil company) to Hazel Hogswallop who is another small shareholder in BB Industries. But, in doing so, it names Josiah Jackrabbit (one of his competitors) her proxy which means he’ll be able to vote on things (and with a lot of power with all that stock).  The contract was written in fresh ink which means (1) it was probably written after their fight and (2) hasn’t been mailed yet (I smell a heist attempt). Buck rolls insight on the writing (mastermind rogue ability) and with a 27 senses that the Squire has gone off his rocker. This isn’t going to make him any money. Josiah doesn’t have enough liquid cash to pay him what this is worth. And the thing with Hazel would have taken time to set up. This has been in the works for a while and he’s been sitting on it until the time was right. And he senses, like Sly and Gangie did earlier, that someone besides the Squire is pulling the strings. 

Then Gangie suddenly hears Constance’s distressed voice through the pipes from upstairs: “Father you’re possessed! You’re a mad man! This will never work. Speak of this to me never again.” And she slams the door (Buck, Daisy, and Gangie all hear). Constance comes downstairs and Squire Badger follows, looking upset. Mrs. M checks in on him too see if he’s eaten and he kind of gruffly has her follow him (along with Mr. Harding) into the drawing room.

There is a scream. Something drops. Silence. Footsteps. A door opens. Then a voice, “My God!”

Everyone rolls initiative. Ian moves first and, upon hearing all the commotion, gathers everyone together to go towards the sound (interesting choice but sure). Daisy recognizes that the scream heard was Mrs. M but barely knows who she is. She goes towards the commotion anyway. Gangie also goes towards the scream. Buckster grabs his gun (well he says “weapon”, but it’s gotta be a gun, right?) and makes like he’s following her but actually hides. Lars and Sylvester go towards the scream. 

With everyone gathered, Ambrose opens the door. Inside they see Mrs. M, her hands covered in blood (my guess? From trying to stop the bleeding), kneeling on the ground over the dead body of the Squire. The room is a mess and stuff is scattered everywhere. There is a bloody knife in the Squire’s hand and a stab wound over his heart. Ms. M, who is distressed as hell, says there was something wrong with him. There was a flash, and she looked down and he was stabbing himself. Everyone thinks this is suspicious as hell. She was the only one in the room. Everyone looks to Sly, the famous detective who is not in the presence of a murder case in progress. What does Sly say? “Lady Lucretia. I’ve seen a ghost.”

Case Notes

I have to acknowledge how ON FIRE Grant was this episode. Like everyone was. Buck was great with the Squire. Daisy and Lars sniping at each other was fun. But man Grant had so many good lines. The “move your nose”. The heartbreak with Daisy (ugh, so sad!) And that blackout line!!! I am biased towards foxes as you can see from my avatar so I am very here for this great fox rep.

Based on the way their staredown went last ep I kinda thought Daisy was the wronged party but ugh. Slyyyyyyy. He forgave herrrrrrr. And he still went to the alter. Daisy how you could youuuuuuu?

Also, sigh, Fox and the Hound. I keep getting hit with these after the fact. 

I loved Rekha’s “Of the Chase Sapphire’s?” improv.

That racoon/mink line was so sleazy. Weird compliment but Brennan is good at being animal-racist. Sidenote, Daisy makes a comment about being careful being a fox in England which I presume is a ref to fox hunting and like the implication of that are como se dice troubling. 

Here are all the new NPCs for this ep and here’s a full NPC guide that also includes the list of names Gangie gave Buck which Buck shares with Daisy this ep.

And on that topic I can’t get over the concept of a married couple named Millie Molton and Mollie Milton. Like, did they get married solely for the bit???

The best Ian-ism of the ep was him talking about getting rejected from Siberia. Poor guy.

Fave OOC moment was everyone at the table getting aggressively patriotic in response to the Squire being dismissive to Buck. There is nothing funnier than someone singing a purposefully overwrought version of I’m Proud to Be An American. 

“It’s 2020 for us bitch!”

The moment Mrs. M said she was gonna make Gangie a sweater I was scared for her. Sweaters take a long time to get made. I was like oh no. The plot is gonna stop you from making that sweater isn’t it. I’m willing to be proven wrong (Brennan loves his maids with secrets, see: Cathilda) but she seems super sweet and if anything happens to her I’m going to be upset. 

What’s behind the painting Brennan. I know there’s a door. I know this house is full of secret tunnels and revolving bookshelves and all that. Let me see it!

One great little moment was when there was a flash of lightning and the minis for Sly and Lars like stop motion moved to look at it. Just great attention to detail. The work that gets put into this show is incredible.

Edit: A note I forgot to mention. There’s gotta be a secret door in the room where it happened, right? Like, creep in, flash of light to mess up her vision, do some shenanigans, peace out.

[michaelsheenpt]

Prodigal Son star Michael Sheen on the 'absolute joy' Martin takes in the Claremont murder

The actor takes us inside the mind of a serial killer.                

Warning: This article contains spoilers for Prodigal Son season 2, episode 4, "Take Your Father to Work Day."

The titular offspring on Prodigal Son had plenty of time to bond with his serial killer father on this week's episode of the Fox procedural.

When a murder took place right under Martin "The Surgeon" Whitly's (Michael Sheen) nose, his son, Malcolm (Tom Payne), and the NYPD crew were brought in to help solve the crime — and as you can imagine, Martin was just delighted at the prospect of quality time with his boy.

Of course, Ainsley (Halston Sage) wanted to tag along to see if there was a newsworthy story to uncover, but once she started remembering more about what happened the night of Endicott's (Dermot Mulroney) death, she turned to her father for answers about what was going on. To make the family reunion complete, Jessica (Bellamy Young) also found herself calling her murderous ex for some insight into their children's minds.

With all the drama taking place inside Claremont, the prison where Martin is incarcerated, the episode allowed for a lot more time spent with Sheen's bafflingly charming serial killer. We chatted with the actor about getting inside a murder's mind and what's to come for the Whitly family in the show's second season.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: In this episode, the team is in Martin's territory. Is this the most screen time you've had in this series so far?

MICHAEL SHEEN: It's a funny, the thing about the way we shoot the show, and particularly the way we shoot my stuff, we now shoot multiple episodes at the same time. I can sometimes find it quite difficult to remember what's in each episode. But this particular episode was a very, very different field for me. My experience of working on this show has been a kind of opening up as it's gone on. There were actors in the core cast that I hadn't even met, let alone worked with, when we got to the end of the first season. I didn't get to do a scene with Aurora [Perrineau] or Frank [Harts] or Keiko [Agena] until really late in the first season. I would just do scenes with whoever walked into my cell, unless it was a flashback, and then it'd still be with people within the family. So things have opened up more and more as it's gone along. So in this episode, the fact that the investigation comes into Claremont opened it up again, and of course for Martin that is just absolute joy.

Right, it's safe to say Martin is having a lovely time throughout most of this episode.

Yes, because they're all coming into his world and I meet Edrisa [Agena], and Gil [Lou Diamond Phillips] has to come in, and my kids come in! I'm working with my own son on a case in my prison. Martin's just in heaven. It was very enjoyable to do because I got to work with people I haven't worked with before and work with the same people in different ways. I got to play basketball, for instance.

Yeah, you got some outdoor time!

It's funny because Martin would love having outdoor time. Michael doesn't love it that much because it's quite cold. I quite enjoy being in my cell with my cardigan on.

One of the people Martin gets some quality time with in this episode is his daughter, Ainsley. How much do you think he's enjoying this newly discovered murderous streak in her? Or is he more interested in just spending time with her regardless of the reason?

I think it's a lot of things for him. There's a real delight in seeing this flower that has grown in the dark. Malcolm is the flower that has grown in the light, and that he has watered and fed as much as he possibly can to try and bring to bloom. She's this extraordinary flower that is actually grown in the dark, without him feeding it at all. There's a special delight to that. For all of Malcolm's experiences that are on the edge of murderous and psychotic and violent, he's never quite tipped into just pure murder, and Ainsley has, whether she's aware of it or not. That creates a special connection for Martin.

That's kind of terrifying.

Yes, it is terrifying. For Martin — and I always try to see it from Martin's point of view — it's both the opportunity to feel known in a different way because somebody else has experienced the thing that he experiences, and it's also an opportunity to feel connected and bonded to someone. It's the same way as a couple of episodes ago, where there was that scene where Malcolm talks to Martin about what it feels to walk around having got away with murder, and that the scary thing is that it didn't feel bad and all that. Martin can now talk about those things that have been such a part of his secret life with someone who's also experiencing aspects of that. That's even more so with Ainsley, because the part that Malcolm hasn't done is to actually feel the liberation of murder, and Ainsley potentially has.

Well, so as not to play favorites, Martin also had a couple of really intense scenes with Malcolm. How much do you think Martin resents Malcolm deep down for sending him to prison? Is that something we're going to get to explore more?

Yeah, I think so. The version of Martin that he allows people to see is such a tiny portion of him. It has an oversized place in the world because it's how he interacts with the world. Even before he was put in prison — when he was still actively pursuing his addiction to killing — the reason he was so good at it was because he was able to develop a persona that put people at ease, that made people like him and not suspect what he was doing. That is a construct he has created. What is actually going on for him is very different. We just don't see that very much because it works for him for people not to see it. But for someone who is so obsessed with control and needs control, there are moments where he loses it and we do see something else. We get a sense of what's really under there. I think there are currents within him that even he only vaguely understands. There are times when stuff comes out that he has decided to let come out, but there are times when stuff comes out that he hasn't decided to come out. In that moment in the cell with Malcolm, something comes out that he's not even aware of. I think he really does have the capacity to feel strong, positive emotions towards Malcolm, but I think he also has massively negative emotions towards Malcolm, because Malcolm is the one who ultimately — as far as he sees it, anyway — took away his control. There is huge oceans of rage in Martin.

It's so great when you're watching it because you can find yourself siding with him and believing he could be a good dad.

Yes, because it's in his interest for people to not think that he's a monster. It works great for the show because the more I hear and read people saying, "Oh, I can't believe I really like the serial killer," I'm like, "That's right. That's how it works." You use what will work for you. There were people who had crushes on Ted Bundy. Use what you've got. Martin uses that and it works very well for him, and it still does in prison.

Do you know a lot more about Martin's past than we've learned on the show so far? Have the writers filled in some of those years of serial killing for you?

We've had conversations about that, and we've got lots of different ideas of things that we could explore. It sort of depends on what the big picture is for the show and what is useful to go into and what's not. A lot of the time it's quite useful for people to not know his past. We know more about him than the audience does, and as to how much we reveal about that — who knows… We'll see.

We'll still be finding out about people he's killed come season 10. So Martin and Jessica also had a cute — but not really cute at all — co-parenting moment in this episode. Is there anything you can tease about what's to come between them this season?

In a way, that's the motor of the show, isn't it? That you've got a family where there's one member that everyone would really rather not have to deal with, but they have to. Jessica is never going to be free of Martin. At the same time, you also don't want to overplay that, so when the moments come between them they're able to have zing to them. I think that that scene between them says so much about the relationship, particularly from Martin's point of view, that he's able to lie so easily to her. He takes a real pleasure in knowing how much she's been duped by him and shocked by him and how much she doesn't know about him. Having spent years and years deceiving her, she now knows who he is and he's still able to deceive her. There's a very special enjoyment in that for him, which is very dark. There's also a real rivalry between them, a parental rivalry. When he has something that connects him to them that she doesn't have, whether that's a piece of information or a connection, both of those things delight him in different ways.

Eek, poor Jessica. Speaking of women in his life, Catherine Zeta-Jones is joining the show soon. Can you tell us anything about her character and how she'll affect Martin?

I think what will be enjoyable for an audience is not knowing what's going on at any given point. What I will say is that it puts Martin into new territory and therefore the audience will be in completely new territory, in terms of what they're seeing Martin doing and how he's reacting to things — and that's really exciting.

Prodigal Son airs Tuesdays at 9 p.m. ET/PT on Fox.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

SOURCE

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ twenty-three

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 6.2k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

act three ➻ part five

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Everything feels almost too calm. There is a sense of serenity surrounding the lake tonight, and you can’t place it, but you imagine it must have something to do with the man sitting cross-legged across from you. He bears white garments like you, soaked through on the bottoms, and you keep cracking an eye open to gauge his expression. His eyelids are pressed shut, but there’s no tension in his brow. Peace. He’s at peace. That’s not something you have felt all too often while here, so it’s strange to see Seonghwa that way. The stillness of his face gives you a chance to drag your gaze over his features; the sharp curve of his jaw, gentle slope of his nose and lips, and the long eyelashes that nearly brush against his cheeks.

“Close your eyes.” He catches you off-guard, mostly because his eyes are still shut when he says the words. You press your lips into a small frown, lower lip pouting out, but squeeze your eyes shut anyway. “There’s no reason to make a face.”

You dare to crack an eye open, finding Seonghwa’s gaze on you now.

“I’ve told you to focus four times now. You keep getting distracted. Do I need to wear a mask? Is my face that distracting?” Seonghwa teases. He lifts his chin a little as he blinks at you. His gaze is innocent, but you know he’s well aware of what he’s doing.

“What’s the point of all this again? Isn’t it taking away from our sleep?”

Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shakes his head ever so slightly.

“It’s the Dreamscape for a reason. Your body is resting even if your mind is awake in here, so technically, you’re still sleeping.”

You really wish there was some way to kick him in the real world. Maybe if you glare at him hard enough it’ll work—just a quick kick.

“Why are you giving me that face?”

“Hm?” You purse your lips and lift your brows, desperately trying to hide your growing smile. Seonghwa just huffs a sigh out in response, followed by another order to focus more.

You’re still smiling when you press your palms against the bed of the shallow lake. The pebbles underneath are smooth against your skin, and you almost lose yourself in the sensation when Seonghwa’s voice cuts through the air again.

“Imagine the water being pushed away from your hands. Don’t think of it as you doing the pushing, let the water do the work.”

Seonghwa makes it sound so easy, but the longer you sit there, the more you realize that absolutely nothing is going to happen. You only try for a couple of minutes before giving up and tugging your hands back out of the water.

“Maybe I’m not a Siren after all.”

Seonghwa releases a loud laugh, head falling back as he snorts towards the sky.

“Nice try. Don’t play coy, and try again. Most Sirens have the ability to do this.”

“Emphasis on most.”

“You seem to be above average. I mean, you’re above average in other… departments, so I’m sure it carries over.”

“Above average? Excuse you, I would like to think that I am far above average in other departments!”

“I was talking about sparring, princess. Where is your mind headed?”

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do. Now, come on. I just want to see how strong you are mentally because that’s what these abilities are based upon. It’s all psychic, not physical.”

“I’ve done it before… used whatever these abilities are. Changing something about my body, I don’t know what, but making bullets pass through me without hitting me? Only when my life is being threatened though.”

Seonghwa squints a bit at you. He is suspiciously quiet, and you’re about to question him when he stands up all of a sudden. He closes the distance between the two of you in an instant, fingers latching onto your throat. You choke at the impact and fall back to the rocks.

“Th-This isn’t as s-sexy as you think it is,” you mutter as you bring a hand up to grip Seonghwa’s wrist. Seonghwa lets another laugh loose, this one much quieter than the last, and his fingers tighten a tad.

“If your life has to be threatened just to see the extent of your powers, then I can do that.”

“G-God, you’re insufferable.” You aren’t sure why he would think that choking you is the best way to get you to focus, because all you can think about is how damn hard it is to breathe instead. Still, you press your palms flat against the rocks once more and desperately try to push the water away. It hits in that moment, a sense of familiarity and deja vu, and your mind slips back into a memory rather than the pull of the water on your fingertips.

The breath leaves your lungs, and you gasp for air, cradling your bleeding nose with careful fingers. Her knees drop onto your abdomen while her hands go for your throat. You try to swat her hands away from you with the bloodied hand, but she seems to have even more strength than before. You stretch a hand out to her sternum, trying to reach for the cloak over her skin. The lack of air is making your head spin though, and you can’t focus enough to use your abilities on her. Your fingers tremble and shake against her clothes.

Fucking… work. Come on. Just fucking phase.

Spots dance on the edge of your vision, and your hand falls to your side limply.

The last time you were in this position, you weren’t able to do anything. You couldn’t defend yourself. Your fingers tighten on the pebbles. Then the pressure of Seonghwa’s grip dissipates, and you jerk upwards, gasping for air.

“Good job!” His tone is bright and cheerful, like he didn’t just try to choke you into unconsciousness. You would laugh if you weren’t still attempting to catch your breath.

“Are you congratulating me on almost dying?”

“Oh hush, you’re fine. I barely choked you. You pushed the water away though. It didn’t last a long time, but that isn’t as important. You still managed to do it, which means you at least have the ability. Now we can move onto tr–”

“Hey! Hello, Y/N, are you there? Did I lose your brain somewhere?”

“Huh?” You speak before your brain catches up, the vivid memory of the previous night dissipating bit by bit until you remember that you are in fact awake and not still in the Dreamscape with Seonghwa. Long fingers snap in front of your face. You jolt a little and turn to the man at your side, his peach hair blending in a bit with the sky around his head.

“You’ve been off in la-la land for a while now,” Yunho chuckles. His smile is soft as he looks down at you, and you can almost sense a cheeky comment coming, so you speak before he has the chance.

“I was lost in thought and thinking of other things, that’s all,” you say through a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“That much is obvious, but there’s no need to be sorry.”

You pull your stare off Yunho and glance around the little marketplace again. San isn’t with the two of you today – something about staying back to help Jongho and Mingi run some maintenance checks on the ship – but you aren’t alone. Wooyoung and Yeosang came along today, and you can only be grateful that Yeosang is too preoccupied with Wooyoung to sling insults your way. The pair keeps a significant distance from you and Yunho; they walk along the row of stalls on the other side of the street, Wooyoung’s arm linked through Yeosang’s. He has something in his hand, though you can’t tell what it is from this distance. All you can see is Wooyoung wrapping said item around Yeosang’s wrist, then a clear and bright laugh falls from his lips, one you can hear from across the road. Yeosang smiles down at the action, teeth flashing, and the action looks so foreign on Yeosang’s features that you glare at the man a little.

“Damn, I’ve never seen someone look so bitter at the sight of happiness,” Yunho snorts, drawing your attention back to him. A scoff slips past your lips.

“It’s not like that. I just don’t understand Yeosang.” Yunho seems to understand what you mean, nodding slightly as he hums in response. His gaze trails over to where Wooyoung and Yeosang stand.

“Yeosang is complicated and hard to understand. You shouldn’t take it personally. He hates everyone at first, then he continues to act like he hates them to save face and seem tough. Plus, he’s bitter that you’re a better shot than he is. His pride is weak in that regard. Besides, no one is as close as Yeosang and Wooyoung are. They’re basically family at this point, had no one but each other for a long time before joining the crew. They bring out the best in each other, so of course, Wooyoung will bring out the softer side of Yeosang.”

You don’t respond, just letting a sigh slip through, and Yunho smiles a bit at your reply or lack thereof. He comes to a sudden halt and releases a noise of surprise. For a moment, you think that something has happened to either Yeosang or Wooyoung, but Yunho is faced in the opposite direction, towards a small stall.

“Y/N, Y/N, come here!” He ushers you closer to the stall, hand around your bicep, and points down at something that looks like a plant. “They have hyacinth root! It’s extremely rare. I’m surprised that they have it. Excuse me – could we have a handful of your hyacinth roots?”

“What’s so important about a root?” You inquire as the person behind the stall begins to pick out a few of the plants.

“You can crush them up with peppermint leaves to create a paste that, when consumed, will slow your heart rate but keep you alive. It makes you seem dead when in actuality, you aren’t. It typically lasts between seven and ten minutes. Good for getaways or dupes.”

“Have you ever used it before?”

“Once, yeah. Hongjoong had a mission somewhere in the Yuki system, but it was so long ago that I can’t really remember where we were. Not too long after I joined the crew actually. Hongjoong came to me with the root and told me to make the concoction. That was the first I’d heard of it. It’s always handy to keep a few around in case of emergencies, especially since they’re hard to come by, but I haven’t been able to find any for quite some time now.” You watch Yunho quietly exchange money with the vendor and take the bag of roots. He pulls away from the stall after a few moments and softly spoken thanks.

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable in any sense, but your thoughts won’t quiet down enough to let you relax. Every lingering stare from the townspeople makes you second-guess yourself, and they aren’t exactly shy about looking at you or Yunho as they walk past.

“Hey, I have a question,” you say after a few minutes. “I talked with Jongho about it before, but I wanted to ask about Mingi. From your perspective, is it… is it possible to undo the mental conditioning he went through?” Part of you is genuinely curious about Mingi’s condition and what Yunho thinks about it, but you’re also asking for yourself. If it were up to you, you would erase every lingering touch of the military and push it all out of your mind. If Yunho knows of a way to do that, then you want it.

“It’s very possible,” Yunho hums. “Just like undoing what the military did to you.” You open your mouth to protest, but there’s no use because Yunho just shifts and smiles at you. The smile is knowing and understanding, like he’s picked your brain apart in seconds. “Everything is reversible except for death, right? Mingi is just a tough nut to crack. He wants to learn and understand emotions, but he doesn’t want to let go of what tethers him to the part of him that misunderstands and can’t process emotions like you or me. He wants to abandon his title as the Brute of Kebos, but he doesn’t want to completely lose that part of him. It’s a hard dichotomy to dissect. Hating yourself but clinging to what makes you the thing you hate. Not once have I ever heard him call himself the Brute of Kebos. So… I think that the only way to break him loose of those chains is to have something like a rebirth. A rebirth of the Brute of Kebos, a new version, one different than the last.”

“Why isn’t he allowed off the ship? Is it because we’re on Kebos? Is Hongjoong worried that there will be another incident?”

Yunho freezes, head snapping towards you so fast that it looks painful. His lips part, but no sound comes out for several seconds.

“How do you know about that?”

“I-I – uh, Jongho just m-mentioned it. He didn’t tell me anything, only that there was an incident.” Yunho’s hand closes tight around your arm again, this time much more painful than the last. It almost burns, and you had no idea that Yunho was this strong until now.

“You shouldn’t ask about it,” he hisses out through gritted teeth. You’ve never seen this expression on his face, this gleam in his eyes. He doesn’t seem angry in the slightest, and that’s what sends your thoughts into a scramble. Merely sad. “That’s between you and Hongjoong if you want to talk about it, and it’s on him to tell you about it.”

“O-Okay, yeah, um, I’ll drop it,” you stammer out, averting your eyes, so you don’t have to see Yunho’s pained expression any longer. “We can… we can try to confront a bit of my trauma now like – like you’d wanted to do.” Yunho’s hand falls away from your arm, but the ache continues to reside, and you bring your other hand up to rub at the skin there. Yunho notices your movements, expression falling into guilt. “Yunho?” You press, desperate to just change the damn subject now.

“Y-Yeah, sorry, let’s get started. First, can you tell me some things that comfort you? Things to think about if you’re feeling panicked or anxious? A sight, smell, taste, sound, feel.”

A soft-sided grin, rounded cheeks, and bright eyes. You don’t even ask for the image to come to mind, yet it does as soon as Yunho mentions comfort. You’re frantic as you try to push the thought away and replace it with something else that comforts you, but everything you think of surrounds Jisung.

“Um, the stars on a clear night.”

Jisung.

“The smell of cherry wood and sugar.”

Jisung.

“Sound of fire crackling.”

Jisung.

“The feel of a-a rough hand in – in mine.”

Jisung.

“The taste of honey�� and vanilla on soft lips.”

Jisung.

Your voice trails off and dies in a whisper. The heat of Yunho’s stare is on you. Out the corner of your eye, you spot the barest hint of a smile on his lips, but it disappears when he speaks again, tone quieter to match yours.

“Think about the last time you were here. Do you remember it?”

Vague. It’s vague and foggy. A cold night. Stars. Warm fire. Even warmer next to him.

“Y-Yes.” You nod.

“Can you recall it for me? It doesn’t have to be detailed; you can only tell me if you want. Whatever you want to tell me and are comfortable telling me.”

“I last came here with a friend on business. One of my teammates, someone in my unit. Just the two of us.”

“Three constellations. The ones I taught you last time. Come on! If you name them all, I’ll give you something.” Jisung’s laugh is clear as it rings through the air, so loud and bright that it could dispel every cloud in the sky.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna give me?” You roll your eyes ever so slightly. Only enough for Jisung to see it and scoff at your gesture, and he sits up to hit your arm with the back of his hand. You laugh, hair sprawled out across the ground. Jisung hesitates there. His expression melts, and his gaze is so gentle and full of emotion that you feel a deep pang in your chest. “S-Stop looking at me like that. It’s weird.”

Jisung doesn’t respond right away; instead, he leans down over you and blocks your view of the sky. All you see in that moment is him. You exhale, breath fogging in the air between you, and Jisung dips in to press his lips against yours. Soft lips. The taste of honey and vanilla. Stars hanging high in the sky. Jisung’s calloused hand reaching out and finding yours. Cherry wood and sugar on your nose. A fire crackling behind you.

“I decided to betray the military on that trip. I thought it would protect him. That I was doing it for him. He hated the military more than anything, but it was the only thing he – we had. I thought I could dismantle them on my own. I was so stupid and foolish to think that I could.”

“Has this all been for him then? The papers as well?”

“No. No, the papers were for someone else. The friend I came here with is still alive, at least I think he is. I haven’t – haven’t seen him or heard from him in three years.”

“Who are the papers for then?” Yunho’s tone isn’t pressing; it’s hesitant and cautious, yet it somehow still urges you to answer.

“I lost someone the night I killed the king. That’s who the papers are for.” You dare to glance up at Yunho. Maybe it’s an attempt to see if there’s disgust or hatred on his face, but his brows are furrowed and sloped with concern instead. His lips part to say something in response. A loud shout interrupts him before he gets the chance though. The two of you whip around to find the source of the sound. It’s Wooyoung, hand raised high in the air as he drags Yeosang along with him and approaches you and Yunho.

“Hey! We need to go!” Wooyoung says, tone loud even when he gets close to you. “Lieutenant just called me over the comms. He said we need to get back to the ship as fast as possible.”

“Did something happen?” Yunho asks, but Wooyoung merely shakes his head.

“Don’t know. He didn’t say. He sounded mad though.”

“Shit, let’s go then.” Yunho is quick to spin on his heel and start walking back the way you came. To your surprise, Yeosang pulls away from Wooyoung to fall into step with Yunho instead, and you stay back with Wooyoung.

“He really didn’t explain anything?” You ask, tilting your head to look at the dark-haired man. Wooyoung purses his lips.

“No, he didn’t. But if he’s upset, then that means Captain is going to be a nightmare to deal with.”

“You think?”

“I know it. When Seonghwa is this mad, Hongjoong is always ten times worse.” Wooyoung turns away, bringing a hand up to rub at the skin under his collar, and you watch the movements with nervous eyes.

“H-Has he–”

“No.” Wooyoung doesn’t let you finish the thought, but he seems to know what’s on your mind. He drops his hand to his side again. “He’s never hurt me, and he never will. It just reminds me of my previous own–captains. My previous captains. I don’t do well when any of the crew gets upset or angry because of that.”

“O-Oh,” you exhale. It almost sounds like a noise of relief. Wooyoung doesn’t push the conversation further, and neither do you, so the two of you trail after Yeosang and Yunho in silence until you reach the hangar where the ship resides.

Seonghwa is waiting for you there, just outside the airlock. Wooyoung was correct – he looks upset based upon the way the muscles in his face are tightened and drawn together, but also because of his rigid posture.

“You all need to go to the bridge immediately,” he says, not waiting for you to get close before speaking.

“Can’t I drop this off first?” Yunho asks as he lifts his satchel off his hip.

“It wasn’t a recommendation, Yunho. It was a command. Bridge, now.”

Yunho doesn’t even try to argue. He dips his head and follows Yeosang onto the ship. You and Wooyoung move to do the same, but Seonghwa catches Wooyuong by the arm as he’s climbing the stairs to the airlock.

“Are you alright? Did anyone bother you in the town?” Seonghwa’s tone slips back to its regular warmth and soft concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay. No one bothered me.”

Seonghwa offers a small nod, tongue darting out to moisten his lips before he lets Wooyoung continue onto the ship. The lieutenant falls into step with you as you climb the stairs behind Wooyoung, but he doesn’t speak at all.

“What? You’re not gonna ask me if I’m okay?” You inquire, tone teasing and light. Seonghwa doesn’t respond with his regular mirth or teasing though.

“I know you can handle yourself just fine,” he mutters back.

“What’s going on?”

“Hongjoong is upset.”

“Why?” Wooyoung asks, turning around to face the two of you. Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head back and forth a bit.

“Eavesdropping is bad.”

“Have I ever really been good though?” Wooyoung lets out a quiet laugh and rubs the back of his neck. It’s meant to be a lighthearted joke, probably to get Seonghwa to loosen up a little, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“The lead died.”

“Did the trail die or the Siren?” Wooyoung asks, hand falling away from his neck as his expression grows more serious. A sigh slips past Seonghwa’s lips.

“The lead who was supposed to be here has been dead for thirty years. It was bad information and a dupe to cover tracks.”

“Oh…” Wooyoung’s mood deflates before your eyes. His shoulders slump forward a little, and he faces forward again. Seonghwa frowns at his back before continuing to speak to you.

“Hongjoong is furious. It would be best if we all just bite our tongues no matter what so he doesn’t lash out.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Wooyoung murmurs. Something about the whole situation doesn’t feel quite right though, nor does it sit well with you. You harden your gaze on Seonghwa.

“Is it really true? About the Siren?”

“Why do you think I would lie to Wooyoung?” Seonghwa barely shifts to look at you, a sharp glare that makes his face almost unrecognizable landing on you. His eyes and tone are colder than they’ve ever been with you, and it’s enough to make you regret even opening your mouth. You near the bridge feeling worse than before, Seonghwa’s angered presence lingering at your side as he continues to walk alongside you.

Actually stepping onto the bridge somehow makes your heart plummet further. The air is tenser than you can imagine, and you’re bringing up the rear with Seonghwa apparently, because everyone else already stands in front of the captain’s chair looking both uncomfortable and nervous. You round the edge of the chair to find Hongjoong sitting there. He seems calm more than anything else, hair a new shade of blue and laying loosely over his forehead. It makes him seem younger and more innocent, but the gleam in his eyes shows how furious he truly is. Seonghwa moves to stand beside him, whereas you hurry to stand alongside Wooyoung.

“During one of our meetings today, a captain of one of our allied crews showed us some obituaries and news reports concerning the Siren we were led to believe was here. That Siren has apparently been dead for nearly thirty years. The lead I was given was a dupe, which means that my information broker is a traitor and working for someone else.” Hongjoong somehow manages to maintain a steady and flat tone. His nostrils flare a bit with each word, so it’s evident that he’s on the brink of letting the anger slip through.

You glance down the line of the crew to find Jongho and Mingi, gauging their reactions to Hongjoong’s spike in anger. Jongho seems to be just fine; his expression is blank, and he looks at Hongjoong like nothing is wrong. Mingi, on the other hand, can’t stop shifting his weight from foot to foot. His brows are so closely knit that you can barely see the skin between them, and he won’t look up from the floor. You aren’t the only one who notices the discomfort Mingi is going through. Seonghwa tilts his head towards Hongjoong, speaking quietly, but thanks to the silence lingering over the rest of the bridge, you all can hear his words loud and clear.

“Calm down.”

It’s the wrong thing to say apparently, because Hongjoong pushes up from his seat and stares Seonghwa down like the man just shot him.

“Why should I calm down when we’re running out of fucking time?” Hongjoong yells, voice booming through the room in a shocking way. “When we’ve been wasting time on a damn false lead because we were betrayed yet again? What part of me should be fucking calm then? How long until someone fucking sells us out?” He expects an answer from Seonghwa, but the man doesn’t provide one. Instead, he huffs air through his teeth and steps closer to Hongjoong. His fingers close around the collar of Hongjoong’s long brown coat, tugging him forward just enough to hiss his next words in the captain’s face.

“You should be calm because Mingi is present.” Seonghwa pushes Hongjoong away from him, and the shorter man falls back to his chair with little to no reaction. He looks down at the floor, avoiding everyone’s wide-eyed stares while Seonghwa turns to address the crew.

“Everyone is dismissed,” he states, tone as flat as he can manage. Yunho is the first to move, then Yeosang, who places a hand on Wooyoung’s hip and guides him off the bridge. Jongho follows without a word, yet Mingi doesn’t move. He hasn’t budged one bit, still in the same position he was in before. “Everyone is dismissed, Mingi. That includes you.”

The sharply spoken command spurs Mingi to move. He nods once, but the movement is stilted and awkward, before following Jongho off the bridge. You find yourself in a similar position to the one Mingi was just in. Your feet don’t want to move, and you can’t get yourself to even turn your head away from Seonghwa and Hongjoong. The lieutenant shifts to look at you. Your heart pounds against the confines of your ribcage. A hand brushes your lower back, and you nearly jump out of your skin because you hadn’t seen anyone come up behind you. San blinks back at you, nudging you forward a little. You take the hint and let him guide you off the bridge.

“You looked scared shitless,” he mutters once you’re out of earshot of Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

“Just a bit surprised,” you whisper back.

“We don’t see Hongjoong like that often. In fact, it’s been well over a year since he seemed that angry.” San doesn’t elaborate past that. You don’t ask him too either, too caught up in the thought of Hongjoong’s unprecedented anger. San’s hand stays on your back throughout the walk back to your rooms, but you don’t speak. It leaves you alone with your thoughts, which are a jumbled mess of confusion at this point between all that’s happened today.

And at the forefront of it all? Jisung.

You just want to pour your heart out to someone and get it all off your chest, everything you remember starting from the minute you joined the military up until the assassination of the king. You want to get it off your chest; you’re sick of bottling it up and not being able to talk about it. You don’t know why you’re thinking that way all of a sudden. You’ve spent so long thinking about yourself and how you can’t be vulnerable or weak in front of anyone. The hand on your back remains. The slightest pressure against your skin, guiding you and pushing you forward. It’s merely driving you down the corridor, yet it feels like more than that. San could’ve moved his hand at any point, but he didn’t, and you only realize why when you reach the door to your room.

He wants to comfort you. To show you that he is here for you even if you fail to realize it.

As his hand slips away from your back, you twist and catch his wrist between your fingers. San blinks at you with wide eyes.

“I t-think – I think I’m ready to tell you about my past in the military,” you spit out in a rush. It’s a miracle you only stuttered a couple of times because your heart is pounding and making your heart rate accelerate.

“You don’t have to,” San whispers, obviously caught off-guard. “I don’t want you to feel like I expect that from you. Because I don’t. I meant what I said yesterday.”

“I know, I know. I just – I want to trust you. I mean, I trust you. I do. I trust you, and I want to trust you with this as well.”

San’s face melts into a soft smile. “Okay. Is it alright if I come in?” He motions towards your door, and you nod quickly, tapping at the keypad to let him in. He waits for you to step through the door first then follows you to the bed. He sits as far away from you as he can without falling off the mattress, hand pressed to the comforter between you. You expected some level of awkwardness or tension to come from this conversation. While you’re panicked and nervous about exposing this part of you, San’s warm and intense gaze does nothing but ease your worries.

“You… you don’t really know much about me aside from the fact that I killed the King of Eros, and that I’m trying to pardon someone.” You bring your hands into your lap, tugging at the skin around your thumbnail to avoid looking at San. “I joined the military at 14.”

“Recruit number seventeen. Name and age?” A cold tone that tears through your skin and confidence with its iciness, and yet you pull your shoulders back and stand up a little straighter.

“L/N Y/N, age 14.”

“I think th-that something happened then because I can’t remember my life before going to the recruitment office. I don’t know if they… if they did something to me or – I just don’t know, but I wasn’t fit to be a recruit. They took me anyway because they needed recruits. I was small and weak. I got injured more often than other people, and no one ever tried to help me because I was a runt. I was thrown into a small unit of only six people. All of us were young and misfits, kids who didn’t fit the military mold, and they never expected much from us.”

“Alright, we’re the mess of recruits, okay? They lumped us together because they think we’ll fail, but we won’t! So we gotta prove them wrong, little lady. Understood?” The boy jabs his thumb at his chest as he says the words, smile falling to emphasize his serious tone. You nod several times in response.

“The only thing I was ever good at was shooting. So… I dedicated everything I had to being the best at shooting. It paid off, of course. They never moved me from my team though, because no other commander wanted me in their unit, but I shot up in ranks and quickly became known for being the best sniper in the division. Somehow that turned into being the best shooter in the military of Eros. I never wanted that title, and I never wanted them to like me. I don’t know why I joined in all honesty. They must’ve taken that away from me when I joined, but eventually it became a desire to protect my team. They became my family. Then I ruined it. I stole some classified documents that could’ve destroyed the military from the inside out, but I got caught. Branded a traitor and stuck in jail for what I did. They weren’t going to kill me then though. One of my friends came to visit me in jail and promised to fix things.”

“Jisung.” You glance at the man, his face slightly shrouded by the steel bars between you. “Jisung, I–”

“I thought we were gonna work through this together, Y/N.” The stinging of his disappointment almost hurts worse than the brand on the inside of your wrist. If you could twist them, you would, but the cuffs around your wrists prevent you from doing so.

“I know…” You can’t finish your train of thought.

“I, uh, I don’t know what I was going to say. I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m sorry, Jisung.”

“Four years. I don’t want it to end like this.” Jisung shakes his head a little bit.

“They aren’t going to kill me. Just – just the brand a-and being kicked out of the military.”

“I’m going to fix this, Y/N. They can’t – this isn’t right. I won’t let them do this.”

“Jisung, you can’t – they – the damage is already done.”

“Then they’ll have to kill me. I won’t let them do this. Not to you, Y/N. You can’t ask me to sit on the sidelines this time.”

“Once I was let out, they expected me to leave and never come back. That’s what I was planning to do, but I found out that one of my teammates told the king that he had organized everything. The theft, the plans to dismantle the military, even claimed that he plotted to kill the king. It wasn’t true at the time, but it didn’t matter. He earned a public execution sentence for it. Because of me. Because I thought I could fix things and make it better for my team. Instead, I got our leader killed. They all blamed me except for one, and that was almost worse. I would’ve rather had them all hate me than have one defend me. They all left Eros as soon as they could. Didn’t even wait for the execution. I stayed and went back to the palace where the execution was being held with the intention of stopping it. I was going to shoot the king before they killed my friend. I thought it was meant to be penance for what I caused. To take away the guilt I was feeling and redeem myself. Then they killed him, and I was too late. I hesitated. He died. So I killed the king and left. I should’ve taken my gun with me, but I left it. I was t-too emotional to remember to grab it. They picked up the traces of my fingerprints and traced it back to me. So yeah… there’s my sob story.”

You exhale shakily. Now that it’s all out there, you feel light and airy. Almost like you’re floating, but not in a good or happy way. Next thing you know, San is pulling you against his chest, and your face collides with his shoulder as he wraps a hand around the back of your head. The action causes a choked sob to slip out. Neither of you were expecting the sound, and you didn’t even feel the tears in your eyes until San pulled you against him. Shaky hands move to grip the back of his shirt.

“I know you still blame yourself,” he murmurs against your hair. “I can tell. At some point, you have to face the truth though, Y/N. And the truth is that you did not make those choices for whoever your friend was. He made those choices, and he alone made them. It sounds like he made them because he cared about you as much as you cared about him. Enough to die for you.”

“B-But I… I didn’t – I didn’t die for him. I should’ve told the truth. I should’ve sacrificed myself. I d-didn’t,” you cry, blinking against San’s shoulder.

“You did sacrifice for him. That’s not something that you should blame yourself for because it’s not your fault. I’ll remind you of that every single day if I have to. Until you believe it.”

“W-Why?”

“Because it’s what you deserve, Y/N. It’s what you deserve.”

✧✧✧ a/n: ahahsdfjkhaskjdfs im late but here oh my god i didn’t expect it to take so long i even cut 1k out of the outline and moved it to shorten yet aslfidjiosdfj here we are welp anyway i hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think of this one 🤧

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[lets-steal-an-archive]

Unlike their counterparts on The Definite-Indefinite Article-Team, the Robin Hoods on John Rogers and Chris Downey's Leverage aren't joyful militarists whose idea of helping people invariably involves vans and walls. Because, unlike Leverage, that other show

"was a guy's show. It was male-driven. It was written by guys. It was directed by guys. It was acted by guys. It's about what guys do. We talked the way guys talked. We were the boss. We were the God. We smoked when we wanted. We shot guns when we wanted. It was the last truly masculine show."

In the 1980s, heroism only came from the barrel of guns aimed by incompetent men at similarly scattershot adversaries—because for all the gunplay, no one was ever shot. When these world-historically poor shots grew tired of wasting ammunition, they would chase each other in vans until one of them found a wall in need of Kool-Aid, then someone would punch someone, everyone would laugh, and the day would somehow have been saved.

The Definite-Indefinite Article-Team was a male fantasy about a world in which simpleminded evil could be thwarted by brute force, the implication being that had the government allowed these clowns—who, the audience was to believe, were once ex-Special Forces—free rein in Vietnam, America would have won the war. How you win a war with soldiers who can barely hit the broad side of a barn with a van is beside the point: the 1980s needed manly men to manly deeds, and when they did, nothing made much sense, but everything worked out.

[Insert here a clunky summary of the arching plot. Describe how it's a show in which a former insurance investigator hires the talented specialists he formerly investigated to help those that corporations have rendered helpless. Maybe mention that the official website describes it as a show that features "elaborate scams designed to exact revenge against those who use power and wealth to victimize people." Then move on because exposition is necessary, but good God damn, is it ever boring.]

With Leverage, the issue isn't whether nothing makes sense and everything works out, but whether the audience can make sense of how everything worked out. According to John Rogers:

"Testing indicates—and I'm not kidding—that about 30% of our audience never understands the con at all."

Despite the fact that almost one-third of viewers have no clue what's happening or why, Americans have voted with their eyes and elected Leverage the most popular show on basic cable. Which means that Americans love something they don't understand, fully aware that they're not understanding it. Unlike Twin Peaks, where the ignorance was as collective as its ratings were impressive, Leverage is a caper show, so the visceral narrative enjoyment should come from watching the plot hatch.

Let me literalize that:

Ideally, the audience should watch a hen have sex with a mutant rooster, then see the egg appear and, knowing what's in the egg, watch with gleeful anticipation as the fox steals into the hen house and is confronted not with a delicious yellow chick, but a mutant-blue chick with the proportionate strength of an ant:

Only then should they treasure their anti-corporate catharsis.

Instead, almost one-third of Leverage's audience sees chickens having sex, is momentarily confused, but then marvels at the sudden appearance of an egg and squeals with glee when a just-born peep beats down the full-grown fox. For a caper show to be popular without being, for much of its audience, a caper show, means that its appeal is rooted in soils unwatered by Ocean's 11 and ff.

So it is.

Rogers again:

"Bernie Madoff stole FIFTY BILLION DOLLARS. In a PONZI SCHEME. Which is the criminal equivalent of convincing people you are going to fly to the moon in a refrigerator box. The single, unpleasant truth is that most people, particularly criminals, are NOT complex. They are shallow, greedy sons of bitches to whom we attribute genius planning or complex motivations in order to preserve a false sense of order in our universe."

We desperately want to attribute otherwise. We want to believe that simpleminded evils are not, in fact, simpleminded, but that we've been duped by highly competent con artists whose methods are so arcane they can only be countered by other, more highly competent con artists. We enjoy the show despite the con because we want to believe such cons can't be understood and really just want some vicarious vengeance.

Reaction to the show, then, is primal and political: we want to see for-profit military opportunists suffer for their trespasses against our soldiers, because war is more complicated now than it was thirty years ago; we want to see contractors who prey on over-extended homeowners in the wake of natural disasters be punished, because disaster relief is now politicized; by which I mean, we want to see ordinary criminals so offended by the non-crimes immoral profiteers lawfully commit that a third of us will devote thirteen hours to a show we don't understand just to watch a mutant chicken gore a cowering pro-corporate fox.

Originally posted August 4, 2009 by Scott Eric Kaufman

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 14-19

This is the “Elevator Action” arc, presumably named after the 1983 video game of the same name.   I’m pretty sure a lot of Hellsing arcs are named for video games, which makes me wonder about the ones that aren’t.   Like, is “Master of Monster” a video game that I just haven’t heard of?  

The title fits, in the sense that there’s an elevator in the story, but we don’t spend much time there.   Anyway, this thing starts off with Alucard checking into a ritzy hotel in Rio de Janiero, and his only luggage is two big-ass coffins covered in sheets.  What happens next might surprise you...

For some reason, the guy at the front desk objects to Al’s luggage, not because they’re coffins, but because they’re just really big?   Like, he’s not even remotely suspicious, even though the sheets sort of hint that they’re trying to smuggle something in.   No, this guy just thinks it’s too big.    So Alucard uses vampire hypnotic powers or whatever to Jedi Mind Trick him.   Pip Bernadotte thinks it’s a “sex beam”, and yeah, this dude sure looks like he got hit with a sex beam.  

Seras is part of this mission, but she can’t travel over running water, so she had to make the transatlantic flight in her coffin.    Apparently they tricked her into this, which I don’t understand, but okay.  

And Al makes a big production over the debut of his own coffin, because he’s a diva like that.  

During the trip, Seras fell asleep, and she dreams of a visitation by the guy who played Baron Harkonnen in the Dune movie.   I think?   This is all a big gag revolving around her gun being named after a guy in Dune.    Then Alucard wakes her up because there’s helicopters and soldiers surrounding their hotel, and he thinks it’s awesome.

A bunch of this arc is panels and panels of commando goons taking up positions and getting ready.    A Brazilian newscaster is there covering the story, which he says is a hostage situation.    The authorities seem to think Alucard and Seras massacred a bunch of people in the hotel, and have hostages on the top floor.    It’s weird that they would even have a photo of Seras for this, since no one saw her.   As for Alucard, they identify him as “J.H. Brenner”, which I believe was an alias Dracula used in the Bram Stoker novel.   He shoulda spelled it backwards.   “Yes, I have a reservation for R. E. Nnerbhj”.   

Also, these photos are just panels from the Valentine Bros. arc.    That’s Seras killing ghouls in her berzerker rage, and that’s Alucard chillaxing while he waits for Luke Valentine to find him.   How would a Brazilian TV station have these?   I’m starting to think this comic about gun-toting vampires might not be on the level.

So now all the main cast can see this situation unfold on international television.   Pip watches from his crappy one-star hotel room, Integra, Walter, and the Convention of Twelve watch from Jolly Old England, and Millennium is watching from... well, somewhere.   

They clearly orchestrated this whole situation, which means they not only knew about Alucard’s mission, but they had a whole thing prepared for him.   As far as they’re concerned, this is just a test to see if Alucard will kill humans as readily as he hunts monsters.

What follows is, well, a bloodbath.   The police try to enter Alucard’s hotel room, only to find his coffin, engraved with “The BIrd of Hermes is my name, Eating my wings to make me tame.” While they try to suss out that riddle, Alucard shows up and demands they stay away from his coffin, so they shoot at him for like three pages in a row.    But bullets don’t work on Alucard, so he just grows back a new everything and starts slaughtering these guys.

The last guy in the room is so horrified that he just gives up and shoots himself, which actually shocks, then enrages Alucard.   

Then he tells Seras to come out of a cupboard he hid her in, and he gets all upset when she objects to his killing humans.    “Look, this is war,” he tells her, but that look he gives her at the end kind of suggests that he knows she has a point.    Those cops were never any match for him.    The two of them could have easily escaped this penthouse without a scratch.    Alucard’s ethics may excuse this kind of overkill in the line of duty, but he knows it’s not right. 

This scene also marks the first (only?) time Seras defies him.   There’s a part in the Gonzoverse series where Alucard is about to execute a human reporter who Knows Too Much, so she pulls a gun on him, but then Integra shows up and is like “No, it’s cool, you can kill this lady, idgaf.”  I guess that whole moment mirrors this one pretty well now that I write it out.    Seras doesn’t like how this is playing out.   She joined Hellsing to fight vampires, not human police officers, but she still follows Alucard’s lead in the end.   So is he influencing her, or is she influencing him?   It’s kind of hard to tell.

And maybe Seras really did make an impression on Al, because the next thing he does is call Integra to report in and confirm his orders.     She told him “Search and Destroy” before he left, but that was before all these human dupes shows up at his doorstep.     He’s willing and able to kill them without regret, but he wants to know if Integra is cool with it, since she’s the one calling the shots.    But Integra holds firm and insists that nothing has changed.    She looks resolute here, but leading up to this moment she was pretty anxious about what Alucard was going to do with all these humans.   

So why is Walter so giddy about this?  Is he just proud to see his commander displaying this ruthless leadership style?   Or is it something more?    After she hangs up, she asks Walter if she made the right call, but he declines to give an opinion, since he’s just the butler.  

I’m not sure Seras was privy to any of this, since she was preparing the coffins for transport while Al was on the phone.    He orders her to take the coffins to the roof and steal a helicopter to escape.   While she does this...

Alucard leaves the suite and heads down to the front door of the hotel.   There’s more cops in the hallway waiting for him, but he just mows them down the same way he did the ones in his suite.

Back to Millennium, their leader, known only as “The Major”, is now satisfied with the knowledge that Alucard can and will kill humans that get in the way of his mission.   But he sees no reason to prolong this battle, so he orders his man in the field, Tubalcain Alhambra, to put this to an end.  

Oh, and here’s the elevator.    The cops scramble inside and try to close the doors to escape Alucard, but he sex beams one of them to hit the “door open” button, which gives him just enough time to get inside.   He kills them all, then emerges on the ground floor and kills the cops there to make his way to the entrance.    Along the way, he tosses some of their bodies out the windows, and they land on nearby flagpoles, which impale their corpses like pikes.     Because he’s Vlad the Impaler, get it?  

And finally Tubalcain Alhambra reveals himself.   He calls himself “The Dandyman”, and he has card powers.   Is he anything like D’arby the Elder from JoJo?   Well, he’s got a vest, so maybe.   He explains that he manipulated the authorities into sending those cops into the hotel.   All he had to do was promise them eternal life.   They didn’t hurt Alucard, but they did get him to waste a bunch of his ammunition.   Maybe all of it, since I’m pretty sure Al never shoots Dandyman during this fight.    See?   Seras had the right idea after all.

Never mind, he does shoot him.   Also these two hit a lot of innocent bystanders while they fight.    It’s worth noting that Dandyman seems to have a lot of the same abilities Alucard expected from Luke Valentine during their battle.    Luke thought he was hot shit, but he couldn’t regenerate or transform himself.    But it looks like Tubalcain can shrug off gunfire and turn his whole body into playing cards.   

While all of this vampire fightin’ is a-goin’ on, Pip Bernadotte infiltrates the bad guys’ command post, shoots all of the crooked authorities in league with Dandyman, and then blows the whole thing up for good measure.

Oh, and here’s the third (and final?) Cross-Fire backup.    Bishop Maxwell gets injured during a pagan cult tries to assassinate the Pope, so he sends Heinkel Wolfe and Yumiko Takagi to go to Wales and slaughter their entire congregation.   And they do.   These Cross-Fire stories just don’t hold up.    It’s two overzealous religious fanatics killing other fanatics, except they always have the firepower and the element of surprise, so there’s no suspense or tension to any of it.  

Back to the Dandyman fight, well... wait, we gotta go through a flashback, first.

The last installment opens with young Integra learning about vampires from her father, Arthur Hellsing.    He quizzes her about why vampires are so feared, and the answer is that vampires are powerful, and they’re also vicious and aware of their own power.    So in close-quarters they’ll tear a human to pieces.    And another monster wouldn’t?   I’m not sure I understand his point.  

Back to the fight, Dandyman seems to have Alucard in a bit of trouble, because his cards are razor sharp and once they cut Al, he can’t recover from the wounds so easily.    Fortunately, Seras shows up to provide a helpful diversion.    And by “diversion”, I mean, shooting enormous shells at Dandyman.

And that gives Alucard a chance to get the drop on him.   He breaks Dandy’s leg, splits his left arm in half, longways, and then drinks his blood.   Also, Millennium does that self-destruct thing on Dandyman, so he goes up in flames.    This is about as defeated as a bad guy can get.  

And then Pip shows up in a helicopter, I guess the same one Seras was ordered to steal, since they have the coffins ready to go.   But Alucard is in no hurry to withdraw, because he’s just so gosh darn excited to be fighting this Millennium group.  They’re bloodthirsty, violent maniacs, just like him, so it’s perfect.  Or is it...

[andyquynhnickyjoebookernile]

The Betrayal

So, I was reading this amazing fic which is death, suspended by BeesKnees in the middle of the night and I was hit with this barrage of epiphanies. Also, before I get into those epiphanies, ‘death, suspended’ is an amazing fic that explores the idea of Joe and Nicky having been separated after the van scene. So if that intrigues you definitely check it out.

Anyhow, getting back to why I’m writing this post. I saw “The Old Guard” sometime this week and I know it is a utter tragedy that I don’t remember the date, so in the future I could pinpoint the moment my life changed but since that day I have been in a haze and when it cleared, I went to tumblr. I love tumblr, just going through the huge number of posts on the movie and especially Joe x Nicky has been the best part of the last two days. But, as I digged deeper I eventually got to the Booker discourse and Joe.

Truthfully, after having seen the movie, I would have been totally okay if they went along with Nile on Booker’s punishment because I got where he was coming from and I truly believed it wasn’t a malicious intent, it was self-serving but it wasn’t outright cruel but now, I’m rethinking that.

Let’s start with Nile. Nile was the one who was ready to forgive Booker immediately after and I realized this was because Booker didn’t betray her. Whenever Booker came up with this plan he didn’t account for Nile. Nile was a happy accident and she did get caught up in the fallout but she wasn’t the one being betrayed therefore, she was judging Booker on her own interactions with him which had been pretty good and even till the very end, I felt like if Nile had slipped away she could have escaped getting caught and being made into a lab rat. So, it makes sense that she is the most forgiving of this crime that wasn’t perpetrated against her.

But, Booker did make his plans fully aware of the fact that he would be betraying Andy, Joe and Nicky and they should be the ones to judge his actions because they are the ones most affected by it.

And, this is when I realized that irrespective of how desperate and depressed he had become, he was fully aware of how cruel his actions would be especially towards Joe and Nicky.

For a moment, I truly believe that he thought that Andy could possibly see his side of things. I feel like he really believed she would get where he was coming from and maybe even agree to his proposition for finding a cure to the immortal condition but that is something Joe and Nicky would never agree to.

For, Joe and Nicky immortality has been the biggest boon, it is the reason they found each other and centuries of happiness. I don’t believe either of them would chose mortality, if it really was their choice, anytime soon so they could never agree to Booker’s plan and Booker knows it.

Therefore, instead of convincing them and I believe he had a good chance of convincing Andy, he dupes them. And the moment he turns to outside forces, the more likelier it becomes that none of them can escape the fallout of his actions and decisions.

I briefly considered the fact that he was trading in the secret to immortality for a cure for himself and therefore he might have believed that Andy, Joe and Nicky could probably get out of this trial with their immortality and their lives intact. But, the more I think about it the more this line of reasoning falls through.

If this idea was something he had brought up to the other three, I feel like it would have been rejected, because Joe and Nicky don’t want a cure to immortality and they truly don’t believe that science can find a way to replicate it. Andy has the benefit of understanding both point of views, she gets why Joe and Nicky don’t want to get involved and why Booker does, so it’s anyone’s idea what her decision would have been. But, one thing the movie makes clear is that it isn’t Andy making the decision, it’s all of them and they all take equal responsibility for the decision they make as a team. In such a dynamic, Booker definitely wasn’t going to get his way of things.

So he looks outside for help and he finds it, he sets up the deal and his prize for honouring it. Logistically, anyone looking to help him through the scientific method would require all subjects because that way you can isolate the anomalies each individual might have and then cross-reference them to find the common ones making it easier to pinpoint the source of their immortality. So, to any outside presence it becomes vital that they get their hands on all four of the immortals they are aware of. Therefore, Booker essentially bargains three lives for want of one. This also works the other way around, finding a cure means finding multiple subjects to test it on and after animal trials you eventually do have to test it on humans and knowing all this, there is a very limited chance that any of them would have survived the fallout especially given the moral compass of the people in charge of this endeavour. Also, we have no idea what they might have looked at, one abject possibility is making them die of different causes to find out what brings them back and what doesn’t to find the answer to both questions.

This seems like a nightmare from anyone’s perspective, it’s already very clear that Joe and Nicky are horrified of dying and leaving the other behind and even more terrified of being the one left behind. To witness your loved one getting tortured or even being aware of the fact and not knowing when they won’t wake up multiplied with the uncertainty of them ever escaping this nightmare, is already horrific without taking into account the fact that they are also going to be aware of the same happening to Andy and possibly even Booker, makes it even worse.

And, maybe Booker really hasn’t thought this far ahead and he really believes they make it out, each with what they want, it still means that in doing this he was fully aware of the fact that the team wouldn’t agree as a whole and instead of living with this he decides to take their choice away.

I also wonder if Booker was to some extent motivated by jealousy because truthfully there doesn’t seem to be anything countering this particular point.

Which brings me full circle, to the fact that Booker’s betrayal is extremely pointed towards Joe and Nicky, they are the victims here and unfortunately the story makes them suffer the most for it as all. So, now I get why they can’t and why they won’t and truthfully why they shouldn’t let Booker off the hook.

Interestingly the only reason, I feel like Andy isn’t equally incensed as Joe and Nicky even though she has had her choice taken away just as much as they have, and this betrayal has been fully against her as well even though thankfully, she doesn’t have to suffer through it as much, is because she invariably gets everything she wants. She gets back her purpose for life through Nile and she now has an expiration date for it as well. She manages to come out of this ordeal better as a great testimony to who she is.

Also, for someone who seems to have lost her faith in humanity seemingly fairly recently, you also can’t discount how many chances she has given it. She is over six thousand years old and she seems to have managed to look at the very worst of humanity, has died because of it countless times and she can still at the end of the die find her way back to humanity. That just gives you an idea of her calibre for forgiveness because I have been on this Earth for some two decades and I haven’t remotely witnessed the worst of humanity and I’m still disillusioned by it. I mean I totally get why Andy was able to face and hug Booker at the end of it. She was also the best person to talk to him about it because she can see both sides of the coin and now having had her faith and purpose in life restored she can still look forward to it even knowing that she now has an out.

Also, faintly I wonder if Booker wasn’t actually horrified by what mortality would mean once he is faced with the fact that he could be the reason Andy dies, like I feel like that moment jolted him out of his head space and actually made him face what the consequences of his actions looked like. I even wonder if Booker was just skeptical about what Andy was telling them about Lykon until this point, given that she is the only witness to the event that he knows of, which now makes incredible sense. Having Andy turn mortal means that Booker has to realize that the fear that Joe, Andy and Nicky have is real and something that he should have also feared that their immortality and their life wouldn’t jump back into their lap every time and that there would be one final time to it. The very fear that have we have seen manifested in Andy and Joe’s eyes towards Booker and Nicky’s deaths respectively.

This definitely turned out way longer than expected and I unexpectedly ended up answering a question I didn’t even know I was trying to answer - why Andy turns mortal in a divergence from the comic canon?

[thecupcakewritesmorethings]

Amgry Kingdom Hearts Theory: Fox in a Box

Hi I’m mad.

I’m mad because of Kingdom Hearts. I’m aLSO MAD BECAUSE I THOUGHT OF THIS THEORY AND IT MAKES SOME(?) SORT OF SENSE.

Caplock rant over, crackpot theory Under The Cut.

Before I actually talk about the theory itself I have to establish a few things that lead me to believe any of this is a plausibility aside from how it’s Kingdom Hearts; and it’s just like though.

.Basis.

First of all, I am running with several theories here which haven’t been outright confirmed, though it’s pretty blatant a few of these things are meant to be implicitly deduced, not downright explained. Whether it’s because Nemura may decide to re-neg on some of these or not is anyone’s guess.

I’m running with the ideas that Ava is The Traitor, Is Darkness, and is also the Disembodied Keyblade Wielder in the final world at the end of Melody of Memory. Also, I feel like I should note that Ava is technically alive/has the chance of becoming a force in later games.

Ava, however, NOT Subject 0. Such an honor belongs to Skuld... For reasons you may already be guessing.

In fact, I’m going to do you a solid. The only game events you need to know in order for this to make sense is the general plot of Union X, The Kingdom Hearts 3, and Melody of Memory. Or even just the general plot of Union X, the end of Kingdom Hearts 3, and the end of Melody of Memory.

In Union X we uncover the general back bone of the theory. When we get through the entirety of the Keyblade story foam we come with the pieces of evidence we really need to back up this theory.

Time Travel works, but with limitations (Tm). Everyone from the Original Keyblade War is saved to the Book of Prophecies all USB style,but this doesn’t stop people from potentially dying. WHEN SOMEONE “DIES”, or more precisely their heart gets destroyed, their body vanishes (in the case of Strelitzia). 

WE ALSO know, in the case of Luxu/Braig that bodies outside of this Data world still age. This is why Luxu has apparently hopped multiple hosts, and also why Braig’s body ages when he’s a Nobody.

I also would like to propose another tag-along theory that doesn’t ultimately change what I am about to say; but Braig and Luxu are very much so aware of each other and while Luxu is riding passenger on Xigbar’s consciousness; they are in fact separate people. Xibar/Braig will just do things for Luxu when Luxu asks. It’s not super important, but I think it does add another layer of depth to the role Luxu had since his only job was to observe, and he chose to observe through Braig’s eyes. Braig/Xigbar is entirely at fault for his actions which led him to becoming a Nobody/Nort.

Get it? Got it. Okay. Moving on.

.Schrodinger’s Fox.

The overwhelming problem that is in Union X that isn't in the other games is actual consequences one would normally think of when considering wars: death and permanent injury.

In the span of the series we have seen ONE person die for real, and despite how sad it is; Strelitzia is likely never going to come back. The good news is for everyone playing Union X after KH1-KH3 (ish) is that this sets up the stakes of the game perfectly. The fact she hasn’t miraculously re-appeared due to some Keyblade Miracle really sets the stakes for that time period. When people die; they stay dead in Union X.

This provides the foundation of the problem. The Master of Masters KNOWS a war is going to happen due to the use of No-Name, and the efforts of Luxu passing from body to body in the future. This is also why I believe Braig/Xigbar has agency and isn’t just possessed. Either way, he knows a lot of people, potentially great and revolutionary Keyblade wielders, are going to die.

Whether or not his motivations are noble, just, or even at all reasonable: MoM sets out to try and stop it. By sending Luxu forward to do his observations MoM has a direct lay-line to the future which allow him to make the book of Prophecies... Which, as we all know from playing Union X, act as databases that the participants of the Keyblade war are stored to... Or maybe just their memories? It’s rather unclear.

Basically the people died but their memories were backed up, giving them a potential chance to live on in memory. Just... You know. Literally.

However, this is not just some grand gesture. MoM uses the Foretellers to set up his data world and keep the proverbial fires stoke while Luxu and the Traitor (Ava) confront each other.

This is where a lot of speculating begins. If Ava is that soul in the Final World; then she must have lost her body at some point, right? Well. She did.

MoM, knowing Ava is the traitor and she will inadvertently set of the war herself, travels into time to go and retrieve her body before she totally fades away and stuffs her into a device devoid of time, space, light, dark, and meant to keep her body functioning without perishing. Luxu doesn’t seem to have realized that Ava perished, or hasn’t realized he’s carting around her life support.

Anyway, MoM returns to the past, and he gives the box to Luxu, and tasks him to keep it safe and never to open it. The reason WHY it’s crucial the box is never opened is because Ava’s heart is in the Final World chilling with the people who died in the Keyblade war. If he were to open the box without going to the final world, Ava would actually perish.

Luxu probably suspects that Darkness is Ava, which is true, but that’s not the entire picture. In order to keep Luxu from figuring out too much, MoM makes a backup copy of Ava and names her darkness. This is something he could have easily done in the Data World, since he basically did this to create it. We also see data copies of Kingdom Hearts characters later in the series.

.Scientific Revelation.

Anyway, we jump forward several games. We could stop at Birth By Sleep, but aside from Braig appearing canonically for the first time not much happens here to serve the theory. All we do know is that Luxu and Braig are DEFINITELY rocking the same body by KH2 (not a phrase I ever thought I’d say). At the end of Kingdom Hearts 3 Luxu pulls the other Foretellers out of the Data World from the book of Prophecies.

There has to be a reason for this; and I propose Luxu’s goal was to wait and observe until the ability to bring people back from the dead/ bringing people out of the data world became a possibility they could achieve.

The Xigbar and Repliku fight was the second big fight in the maze, and I gather that Xigbar/Luxu chose to back off then because of Replica Riku’s sacrifice left him speculating something big may have been happening.

And lo and behold, something did. Xion is back and Xion has a heart? Old Xemnas becomes Tera again? ROXAS EXISTS AGAIN AND HAS A HEART? Yeah this has to be the sign he was looking for. He packs up his box, goes to the Keyblade Graveyard and summons/waits.

It is unknown whether or not he knows that Namine is walking around, but at this point he knows what he knows. Sora and Co can now bring people back from basically thin air, even giving life to people who shouldn’t exist, provided they have a vessel.

.”Ava had her own Mission, and she carried it out”.

I would say FAMOUS last words, but these weren’t Luxu’s last words. At least, I don’t think they will be. It seems rather uncharacteristic of Xig/Luxu to let things be, and even if Luxu’s task is done Xigbar lives for chaos. I doubt either of them will be gone.

Anyway, Ava did complete her task. By being duped into becoming the “Traitor” and having her body and heart separated, she was able to take care of the memories in the Final World, where the Fairy God Mother takes Kairi to meet at the end of Melody of memories. It’s unclear if she knows her body is in the waking world stuffed in a box, but I’m going to say she doesn’t, just like Luxu/Xigbar.

.”Like a Seeds of a Dandelion, Let them Fly to the Another World”.

I would like to cycle back to the beginning on this... Why Ava? What makes her so special out of the other Foretellers, barring Luxu? Something must have made her specific for this role, and it may have been Ava’s own good nature that made her the candidate. After all, if any of the other Foretellers took her role, it’s entirely possible that Ava could have quelled any infighting among the Foretellers, especially if one of the more hot-headed Foretellers was put in the box instead.

Another possible theory is that it was a fail-safe. When MoM speaks to Ava he’s not as dramatic as he is with the other Foretellers, so it would not surprise me if there was a large grain of truth to what he said to her. He told her that she was the last chance of hope for Light, but unfortunately that may have lead her into the box. Ava was tricked into being the traitor, but by becoming the traitor, she actually managed to land herself a very safe place. I think that the Master of Masters wanted her to be revived if his plan didn’t pan out. Just to be sure that Light survived.

[year2000electronics]

HLVRAI takes place in a video game- but how does it work?

(a headcanon masterpost)

in the world of hlvrai, half life vr is in fact an actual new game from valve (released in 2020 because of coomer’s line that one time)

HOWEVER, it’s an experimental beta tester copy given to the player

more likely, however, considering the player’s insistence to roleplay and general confusion of features, the player isn’t an actual game tester themselves- they probably got a copy off the internet or from an outside source

in this universe, valve is probably still as big as it used to be in its hayday- taking all holly’s gags about extra features like a hunger meter and a staff ghost gives off the impression that valve grew as a company and wanted more stuff to advertise for what’s admittedly a clunky game for 2020 standards

the player is aware this is a game- however, they wanted to roleplay as gordon and act accordingly (most likely thanks to the influence of machinimas like freeman’s mind)

they’re known to get a bit “too into it” though- they not only act as if this is real, but the player eventually ends up caring deeply for the npcs, which is why the player is GENUINELY MAD about the betrayal etc etc

some of the anxious confusion also comes from the fact that this is just not how the games supposed to be

(benrey ended up actually sending a shock through the right vr controller to simulate the betrayal- so the players right arm did hurt for a bit)

should add that the player here isn’t wayne. with the fiction rtvsolutions has brought to the table, the “player” and wayne being one and the same is impossible from a storytelling standpoint, as wayne knows it’s just him and his friends in gmod

the player, to contrast, is played only by wayne as “gordon”, but gordon also expresses the fact he knows he’s in a game.

so it’s a player who would have HLVRAI as a real game, basically.

part of why the AI becomes so self-aware and breaking the laws of the game is because this is still a beta tester copy- this specific copy would likely designed with the early stages of “self-aware AI” in mind, meaning most testers would probably stick to basic yes or no answers or greetings

it’s because also the ai encounters two personalities it wasn’t expecting: gordon’s and benrey’s

benrey himself was never supposed to be the way he was

despite barney being one of the iconic half-life characters, the real barney calhoun is canonically only seen by gordon near the beginning of the game

benrey is somewhat of a “cancer cell” in the game- he was originally a mistake, a glitch- but being around the other NPCs not only caused them to become more “off the rails”, but made benrey more powerful in terms of the game

the longer the game went on, the more benrey ruined it-

unintentionally, he corrupts the NPCs of the game just by being near the plot trigger (that’s gordon)

every mistake and bad line of code the game does is thanks to benrey existing and fucking the source up

intentionally, he’s become so powerful/made the game’s code so weak that he’s able to just rip it open and assign himself as the final boss

since half life 1 has close ties to the source engine, benrey is able to break the game’s rules and borrow gmod assets (ie the wowozela, and changing his model to be a skeleton)

he also switched gordon’s model to an armless one to “add some excitement”

his final boss form is when he discovered packs on gmod and had a field day

he is able to look at files in the player’s computer, which is how he knows all the stuff he does

however his power isn’t enough to escape the game completely until the acab stream (which puts a whole different spin on the HLVRAI game)

although benrey is a glitch, he was still originally an NPC. his NPC quality is somewhat like cleverbot or ai dungeon- his stories are wild, nonsensical, and may come out of nowhere if gordon says even one thing a bit oddly. like cleverbot, benrey’s AI also has trouble registering when stories are his- although on a fundamental level, benrey is aware gordon is asking him about “when were we friends”, he can’t comprehend enough to say an answer that isn’t “whuh?”

(his repetition of “can i see your passport?” and “you’re not supposed to be in here” may also be his default lines- being a glitch, he would either not have any or be able to ditch the usual guards’ “what the hell are these things?”

tommy is arguably the least NPC-like, but that’s because he is the most important NPC.

he’s the g-man.

in a technical sense, i mean. the g-man was upgraded code-wise to be able to be a “self-aware ai” of his own, but somehow (most likely thanks to benrey being there), the class “g-man” was duplicated- and that’s tommy.

tommy has all the same abilities as the g-man, but since he registers himself as his own being, he’s not really aware of them

all his “seeing faster” from soda is actually the g-man’s timestop

this is why the g-man sees him as his “progeny”- he sees duplicate code but it’s a different person entirely

tommy never fully realizes he’s in a game until the acab stream- it’s not really distressing to him, considering he’s found the news right after gordon’s rescued him from a finished game

he didn’t pick up on the cues that it was a video game because he is an “important NPC”- story events and maps work smoother around him

this is also why he’s the least talkative of the group- unlike tutorial NPCs, it was never tommy’s job to help gordon around the maps

tommy found sunkist after benrey left him laying around from messing around in gmod, and he used the in game science equipment to effectively make him immortal lore-wise

bubby was supposed to be another tutorial NPC, like coomer, but the game messed up and he was assigned both “tutorial NPC” and “hostile NPC” (eg. what happens to a guard whenever anyone bumps into them). that’s why he’s so grumpy. his nature of overconfident attack, only to run back screaming, is a direct result of his two AIs conflicting

dr. coomer is pretty much spelled out from holly’s great performance- a tutorial npc who is also busted

as for why he got busted? too much unpredictable things happening around him. it mostly blossoms from the resonance cascade itself

coomer’s code indicates that RESONANCE CASCADE means ONLY GORDON SHOULD BE HERE

but that’s just not what happens, so he just gets a bit... busted

darnold appearing so late is a result of the bugged game being played for so long that it starts accepting the crazy lore the glitched AI has been feeding it

effectively, the NPCs have the power to change the game because gordon keeps going along with what theyre saying and treating it like fact

which leads to a feedback loop of “yes, and” that causes the game’s cybernetics department to bust and darnold to throw out the complete non sequitur of a mixology department

thanks to this it’s really hard to say why darnold is what he is

however, he still has NPC traits- like the devil gun spiel and how log says he was supposed to break down as soon as they stepped through the door- that’s his dialogue trigger

effectively, he’s a tutorial NPC for a broken area of the game, making him a “self aware AI” just as much as everyone else is

forzen speaks as casually as benrey does, but that’s because they’re “best friends”

forzen used to be a regular soldier NPC who had a pretty run-of-the-mill “mean soldier” AI, but benrey got bored after disappearing time and time again, and decided to make a friend

after copious use of the wowozela and making forzen his “plus one” for looking around the computer, forzen decided being a soldier was lame and he just wanted to graduate

he’s basically “benrey junior-“ a cell infected by the cancer cell that benrey is

the g-man somehow remained pretty spot-on throughout this whole debacle, but once again benrey ruins things

g-man has the level of awareness that tommy does, but since he already has the programmed personality of “the G-man”, he goes about his lore-breaking ways exactly as the g-man would

which is somehow going to chuck e cheese.

basically, benrey is responsible for most of the AI being fucked up- tommy being a dupe plot NPC, bubby being two NPC codes combined, coomer being flat broken, darnold being a sequentially generated NPC, forzen being benrey’s little sith apprentice, and g-man being a father

to end this off: the player has a son named joshua but it’s a little robot gifted to him by a friend who rigged it to have a terrible tts voice that talks about cowboys a lot

[quentinblack]

Smoke and Mirrors 

Chapter 9: Ron III - I’m Fine (link to full story on FF.net)

Word Count: 2K words

Featuring: Ron Weasley, Voldemort, Hermione Granger

A cold breeze blew against Ron’s cloak as he explored the Woollahra wilderness.

The Sydney sun had set and it was both cold and dark outside, with only the odd flood-light and a few fireflies preventing the forest from being encased in darkness.

He jumped slightly as he saw a little spider run past his shoe, but then he noticed a whole horde of them scattering away to the east.

Ron’s eyes shifted to follow where they were all going and he saw that they were all converging on a rose bush at the start of a clearing. His arachnophobia caused him to hesitate, but his curious nature soon overcame his fear and he trudged over to investigate.

A closer look at the rose bush did not give away the reasoning for the spider’s strange behaviour, but then he heard a hideous hissing sound approaching behind him.

Ron reached for his wand and his heart skipped a beat when it was not there, where he always kept it.

How could that be?

He never left the house without his wand.

It would be akin to going out without any clothes on.

He wasn’t that careless or reckless.

Or maybe he was.

He had after all just followed a trail of spiders, which hadn’t exactly ended well the last time he’d been roped into doing that.

Why was it always spiders?!

But as the hissing grew louder Ron realised that it might not be an army of Aragog’s extended family that would be his biggest problem this time. He braved a look behind him and was horrified to find a giant snake staring down at him.

The snake hissed viciously at him as if it was trying to communicate with him. Ron wondered if Harry would still be able to communicate with it if he were here.

And where was Hermione?

At least Hermione wouldn’t have forgotten to come outside without a wand on her.

The snake suddenly shifted its appearance in vicious fashion and Ron was greeted by an even worse sight.

“You….you’re….you’re dead. Harry killed you!” Ron fumbled out at what appeared to be a reincarnated Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort hissed at him in what Ron presumed must be parsel-tongue.

How had he survived again?

How was he back?

“You…” the Dark Lord whispered. “You are no parsel-tongue… that my ancestor’s language was used in such fashion to bring about my destruction… you will pay dearly for that, blood-traitor!”

“I- I-

Ron floundered around but could not find the words or the courage to engage in conversation. He expected to see a flash of green light any moment now… he was unarmed… defenceless… it was only a matter of time.

“You fear I will kill you?” Voldemort smirked. “I can’t kill you here. If I were to strike you down now all that I would achieve would be waking you up from this nightmare.”

It made sense now.

It was just a dream.

That was why he didn’t have his wand on him.

“How the hell are you in my dreams?” Ron demanded, as his fear evaded ever so slightly with the knowledge that this wasn’t real.

“How should I know?” Voldemort snapped back. “It’s your mind, not mine. The great mind of Ron Weasley… I must say, even with my limited expectations I am disappointed.”

“Disappointed in what?” Ron clamoured, but Voldemort began speaking again as if Ron had not spoken at all.

“But I suppose that’s your speciality, isn’t it? Disappointment. What would you say was your biggest achievement in your pitiful little life?” he spat.

“I… I… err…”

Ron thought hard, but Voldemort had interrupted him before he had the chance to answer.  

“I’ll tell you what your biggest achievement was, blood-traitor. On that transfigured chessboard in your first year… you used the power of your mind and your courage to recklessly sacrifice yourself for the greater good… the sign of a sharp, strategic mind… cunning skill… expertly applied under such pressure… that night was the first chapter in Harry Potter’s road to destroying the greatest dark wizard who ever lived… and when books are one day written of his conquest, even the most naive of readers may be duped into thinking that based on your actions that night... that you might well have played a crucial role in helping him destroy the great Lord Voldemort…”

“…BUT THEY WOULD BE WRONG!” Voldemort suddenly screamed after his calmly whispered monologue.

“You contributed nothing!” he raged. “You showed the signs of a sharp, calculating mind… but to what ends did you cultivate that potential? Did you master the art of Occlumency? Did you learn Legilimency? Did you scrutinise the history books documenting the downfalls of history’s greatest Dark wizards, so that you could conjure up a master battle-plan to defeat me… with as few of your foolish friends and family finding their way to an early grave as possible?”

Voldemort’s verbal onslaught had Ron lost for words.

He didn’t know what to say, but he could never have mastered Occulemency or learned how to be a Legilimens. He wasn’t smart enough to come up with battle plans to defeat the Death Eaters.

It wasn’t his fault that some of his friends and family had died.

Or was it?

“You forget that I am an accomplished Legilimens myself! You think that I can’t see what you are thinking?! You blame your failings and underachievement on not being clever enough for true greatness… but you are not stupid. Stupid people don’t have the self-awareness to know that they are stupid... they blame other people for their mistakes and misgivings. You are not as stupid as you might look Ron Weasley… no… you are just lazy.”

Ron saw You Know Who reach for his wand and he was almost glad.

Glad that this nightmare would be over.

But it was not over.

Not yet.

Voldemort waved his wand and conjured up a moving image projected on a cloud of smoke. Ron was greeted with an animated picture of his Mother’s face filled with tears, yet they were not tears of mourning… but tears of joy.

“You so seek your Mother’s approval… look at her, so happy that she is reduced to tears as she watches your oldest brother on his wedding day… what a pity that she will never get the chance to shed tears of joy at a wedding for her youngest son.”

The wand swayed in the moonlight and the image of Ron’s Mother disappeared.

“I will get married someday… you’ll see!” Ron retorted.

A small grin found its way onto Voldemort’s face.

“But who would want to marry you… you can’t mean the mud-blood?”

“Don’t call her that!” Ron spat back.

“Defensive of your girlfriend? Oh, how noble,” Voldemort laughed. “Do you know what was really noble? Harry Potter letting you have her.”

“He didn’t… she loves me not Harry-

“She’s only with you because Harry Potter didn’t want her… or maybe he did, but he felt so sorry for his best friend that he was willing to let him have that one small victory… your relationship is doomed to fail regardless.”

“You’re wrong! You don’t know anything-

“I KNOW ENOUGH!” Voldemort shouted. “I know that she will forever overshadow and out-earn you… and let’s be honest she’s already got quite a head-start in the finance department. You’ve wallowed in self-pity and jealously in Harry Potter’s shadow since you were a boy of 11… can you really handle spending the rest of your life in the shadow of your partner?”

“I… I…”

“You’re weak. You’re lazy. You’re a quitter. The mudblood is everything that you are not… imagine what she and Harry Potter could achieve together… they could revolutionise the Wizarding world… not for the better of course… but still… the most powerful wizard and witch of their generation… together as one… imagine what children they could create together.”

The thought of that caused Ron to snap.

He ran at Voldemort full pelt and threw his fists towards his face, whilst screaming in an uncontrollable rage.

Voldemort apparated before Ron could punch him.

He looked to his left and there The Dark Lord was.

“Gilderoy Lockhart could’ve wiped your memory in that Chamber and put you in St Mungo’s next to the Longbottom’s for the rest of your life… and it would have had no impact on whether I lived or died.”

“You’re just like that horcrux… you’re just trying to make me-

“You were more of a hindrance than a help! You unwittingly protected the man who betrayed your best friend’s parents to me… when Harry Potter had most of the school turn against him you didn’t stand by him like the mudblood… you turned against him too.”

“That was a mistake! I didn’t- I was-

“At the height of the war… when Harry needed all the help that he could get… when he needed that sharp, strategic mind… you didn’t take control… you didn’t hatch a cunning plan… you didn’t jump on a knight and sacrifice yourself… you bottled it! You ran away! You quit! Because that’s what you are Ron Weasley… and that’s what you will always be…

Avada…

Voldemort raised his wand and cast the spell so quickly that Ron barely even heard the words before the green light blinded his eyes and took him.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

Ron bolted up in bed.

He felt his heart breathing at a million miles per hour and sweat covered his body, which was completely bare save for a pair of underwear.

His heavy breathing caused a startled Hermione to awaken next to him.

She strained to open her eye-lids and her brown eyes briefly stared deep into his soul, as they adjusted from mild curiosity to grave concern.

“Are you… are you alright, Ron?” she asked anxiously.

“I’m fine,” Ron lied.

[runrundoyourstuff]

Switch 

(Gravity Falls one-shot, 3487 words) --

He has never set out to actively harness the town’s Weirdness, but, sometimes, Ford tinkers.

It’s helpful, he finds, in those moments when he inevitably hits a roadblock—as seems to be happening more and more frequently these days—to temporarily shift his focus. Build something—let everything else, the big question mark at the center of this town and of his Unified Theory of Weirdness, percolate in the background of his brain like the coffee he probably drinks far too much of, in the hopes that when he returns his active attention to it, he’ll have something of a breakthrough—and build something.

It’s been working less and less lately, though, as that question mark grows and gets larger and larger, and there is little to no empirical evidence left unturned that seems to hold that key. Ford feels this hole like an electric shock, like static buzzing and buzzing louder and louder in his head with every day that the mystery remains. It’s more than curiosity or scientific inquiry, it’s compulsion, he has to discover what is at the root of the weirdness of this town, has to complete his unified theory…because he’s…if he doesn’t, he’ll…he needs…

A Unified Theory of Weirdness. He has to complete it.

(It taunts him from every one of his twelve fingers.)

He pours over the journals, every day and most nights, looking for something, anything, he might have missed, finds nothing.

He reads about the gnomes.

Nothing.

More coffee.

The Eye-bats.

Nothing.

Coffee.

The Undead.

Nothing…

Eventually, and he cannot say precisely when, he falls into a fitful sleep at his worktable, head plastered to the parchment, and dreams of seashores and backyard taunts, smirks on bullies’ faces…

When he wakes, hours later, he’s clenching his hands pale.

Tinkering. He’ll build something. Anything. Take his mind off of…bring clarity, yes.

But what to build?

His fingers are still numb from the grip. Nothing nimble or requiring too much dexterity. (And he’s still groggy so those decades-old voices still ring out in his head: freak, freak, freak…)

His eyes scan the room, and eventually they settle on the carpet. It’s hideous—a shag area rug, and bright blue, with astonishingly clashing yellow accents. He’d purchased years ago it at a garage sale he’d passed on his way into the county—and when had he ever been one for aesthetics anyway? It served its purpose, kept his feet warm as he paced during those cold Oregon winters.

And, Ford decides, it would serve its purpose now—give him something to do with his hands. (It always comes down to his damn hands!) He leaves his chair to kneel beside it.

What to do with it? He runs his fingers through it and finds the decal in the center: two circular arrows pointing at each other—he’d never really noticed it before—runs his hands along it. The bristles brush his fingertips, he can scarcely feel it…

(Freak, freak, freak…)

“Gah!” Ford pulls back, suddenly, as the carpet releases a static shock. It jolts in his fingers—spits the feeling back into them all at once—and it dawns on him. Isn’t the brain, every aspect of the nervous system—surely the very sense of self—fundamentally an electric charge? This carpet was a festering ground for static electricity, and if he could harness some of the town’s natural Weirdness to amplify the charge…

If two entities with electric nervous systems—two humans stood here at the same time…

If they touched the moment the field was maximally amplified, when the static charge released…

(How many times, for how much of his childhood, had he wished…he was odd, and Stanley…if they could just switch…It wasn’t as though Ford’s fingers were the only thing that made him strange, and Stanley was…Stanley would be able to bear…)

(Freak.)

(They were twins. Stanley wasn’t a freak. Stanley wouldn’t mind an extra two fingers. And even if he did...And their bodies were similar enough, or they had been as children…It would hardly like having a different body at all...)

It’s a fantasy, of course. He hasn’t seen Stanley in seven years, and may never again. And even if he did, why would Stanly agree to… But, then again, he is just tinkering. Why shouldn’t he indulge in some fantasy?

Ford fetches his tools, and puts his hands to work on the carpet.

*** As it happens, he does see Stanley again. After a short, blissful period in which he thinks he gained two friends—one in the form of a college acquaintance willing to become a colleague and then compatriot, and one in the form of a so-called muse—and after he then subsequently loses both of them—Fiddleford to Ford’s own hubris, and Bill to never having truly been his friend in the first place—Ford is desperate. He doesn’t need anybody. He can’t trust anybody, because no one would ever accept him. The bullies, and then the voices in his head—both the recollections of Crampelter and the very current, very real Bill—have been telling him as much since he was a child. And yet. And yet. And yet. His own mind can be compromised. Bill could—can—penetrate it, (was able manipulate him so easily, he’s such a fool, how could he be so stupid…) If he hides all the journals himself, even if he hides them in separate places, they’re all vulnerable. No, he needs someone else to hide the last journal somewhere remote and not tell him where. That way, if Bill breaks into his consciousness again, if he pries open his memories, he won’t find all of them. The instructions about how to complete the portal would be incomplete. It’s the only way… And yet. And yet. Everyone in this town could be Bill, and Bill could be anyone in this town, and he wouldn’t know because he doesn’t know anyone in this town, and they don’t know him—he’s made sure they don’t know him—the only person he could remotely trust would be Fiddleford, but he has no idea where Fiddleford is and even if he did, Fiddleford wouldn’t help him now… The only other connection he has—though can he even call it a connection when they haven’t spoken in ten years?—is Stanley. When Stanley answers the call and arrives on his doorstep, Ford is admittedly preoccupied. But, after Ford shows him to the portal like it would mean anything to him at all and makes his request, after Stanley flies off the handle and has the gall to compare their experiences, to insinuate that he had suffered more, something in Ford’s brain snaps into sharp focus. “You think you’ve got problems?” Stanley shouts. “I’ve got a mullet, Stanford! “Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods! Selfishly hoarding your college money because you only care about yourself!” And this reference to how their physical attributes now differ notwithstanding, Ford wants to drag Stanley upstairs, to yank him onto the carpet, and let it activate like he had fantasized once upon a time. Let him see who has it worse. And of course not everything would change, Ford would still be the freak, even if Stanley had the anomalous fingers. But other people wouldn’t know that. They would see Stanley and think…See how Stanley liked being alone! And their brains wouldn’t switch. Ford would still be the one burdened by the weight of the knowledge of what he had created—Stanley wouldn’t understand it anyway—but Bill wouldn’t know that. Bill would still be under the impression…Would Bill attempt to enter Stanley’s mind? In the end, it’s just a theoretical quandary. He doesn’t have time to think through the implications of this line of thought, because suddenly Stanley is attempting to burn the journal, and Ford has to stop him—because yes, he wanted his research destroyed, but not destroyed, because it’s dangerous, but it’s also his life’s work, all he has to show for…all he has… But of course, Stanley—normal Stanley—would never understand that. It was a mistake to ask him here, Ford knows now. He dives for the journal, but Stanley counters, and then they’re on each other, fighting like they might have if they hadn’t liked one another as children, ugly hand on ugly hand, a kick, a punch, a burn…then somehow the portal is activated, another shove, and Ford is in the air... And then he’s gone. *** When he returns, decades later, his above-ground study—that had, in the years before his disappearance, served as his primary room of residence, certainly more than his actual bedroom—is almost entirely untouched. The rest of his house (his house!) is transformed into something else, some unrecognizable commodity to dupe unwitting out-of-towners—and if Ford weren’t so bone-achingly tired, or if there weren’t so much else to be furious about, this might enrage him. But, save for the layers of dust, his room is almost precisely how he left it, down to fact that the calendar still shows July 1982—(several months before he learned of Bill’s betrayal and was flung into the multiverse, and probably the last time he been engaged with or aware of the outside world enough to change it). The only noticeable difference is that the carpet is conspicuously absent. And it’s not as though he would use it now, at least not in the way he’d fantasized when he’d constructed it. For one thing, he doesn’t see Stanley enough for it to be feasible. True, Ford stumbles up from the basement for meals on occasion, but most of the time it’s only a quick stop—he brings the food back down to his lab with him, eats it alone with his eyes in his journals or on the remnants of the portal. And if he encounters Stanley in these moments, they flit their glances away from each other, hardly acknowledge one another at all. They look similar again, he must admit, more like twins than they had decades ago. They’d both aged to look like their father. And there are differences, between them, of course—beyond the obvious on their respective hands—their physiques are different, Stanley had clearly not spent the past thirty years with an intensive exercise regimen. But even this is not insurmountable. With the right clothing… But it’s no longer only about their bodies. Though he’d never admit it out loud, Ford wants Stanley’s life, the life in which he has an adoring family, a great-niece and great-nephew who love him, who sit with him in front of the television, and who laugh with him over pancakes and bacon and eggs in the morning. And Ford knows, somewhere in him that’s even deeper than instinct—in the same place that he still feels the ghost of Bill pulling at the shadows of his mind even around the metal plate, that he still feels himself falling through the portal and being buffeted through the multiverse despite all rational knowledge telling him that he’s back in his home dimension and stable—he knows that he could never have what Stanley has. This being the case, it’s easier to remain below ground, away from the mocking presence of a happy family. There’s a moment, though, when they’re all away—at that diner, or fishing, or doing whatever it is that normal people do in this town—when Ford’s poking around the rest of the house, looking for something, anything, that might make dismantling his life’s work either simpler or more palatable—that he stumbles into the attic, and sees, amongst the girl’s stickers and the boy’s novels, the carpet rolled up and stashed away in a corner. His eyes settle on it. If Stanley moved it after leaving so much of the rest of the room untouched, he must have somehow, at some point, deduced what it was for. Ford wonders when that was. At what point, precisely, did Stanley realize just how much Ford had tried, once upon a time, to steal from him? *** Dipper and Mabel will perish, and the culpability rests entirely on Ford’s shoulders. Though, Stanley seems intent on monopolizing the blame for himself. “I can’t believe this!” he exclaims, sinking to the ground of their pyramidal cage. “The kids are going to die, and it’s all my fault! Because I couldn’t shake your stupid hand!” Ford’s stupid hand, indeed. But that isn’t the point now. No, there’s a particular moment of clarity here, at the literal end of the world—the literal end of the world that he is about to cause—in which, even if the voices in his head don’t quite settle, he’s able to suddenly move past them in a way he has never been able to before. He’s a freak. He caused this. The world will end. But none of that matters. He will shake Bill’s hand, let him inside his head, gift him the equation, if it will save the kids. “What?!” Stanley bursts, when Ford vocalizes as much. “Are you kidding me?! Are you honestly telling me there’s nothing else we can do?!” “Bill’s only weak in the Mindspace,” Ford explains. “If I didn’t have this darn plate in my head, we could just erase him with the memory gun when he steps inside my mind.”(It’d be akin to something like suicide—he would be erased from his body, even if the body itself were unharmed—but that wouldn’t matter, it would be a way out, a way to save both the kids and the world…but it’s impossible, and so there’s no use dwelling on it…) “What if he goes into my mind?” Stanley asks. And clearly, Ford thinks, his brother doesn’t understand the implications, what he is suggesting. He opens his mouth to explain, but then his twin continues. “My brain isn’t good for anything!” So he does understand. And it’s almost funny. But it’s also futile. There’s no reason for Bill to enter Stanley’s head, no equation or key there to lure him, and Ford tells his brother as much. “There’s nothing in your mind he wants. It has to be me. I need to take his deal. It’s the only way he’ll agree to save you”—(because saving Stanley matters, too, of course it does)—“and the kids.” “Do you really think he’s gonna make good on that deal?” “What other choice do we have?” “Simple. We make him go into my brain. And then you erase him.” “But I told you, Stanley, there’s nothing in your brain he wants. He has no reason to—” “But we’re twins, Poindexter. We look almost exactly the same, even more now than we did as kids! And I know how to pretend to be you—I’ve been doing it for the past thirty years! We swap clothes, I put on your nerd gloves, and do that nasal-y voice of yours, it’ll be just like we switched bodies. Bill won’t know the difference. At least not until he gets inside my head, and by that point it’ll be too late for him. Right?” “I..But…” And all at once, that the clarity, the shocked calm shatters gives way to a lurch in his stomach, shocks even more violent than Bill’s torture. How many moments over the course of that decades-long one-sided feud that seems so pointless now, had Ford fantasized about switching bodies with Stanley, thought about bringing Stanley to the carper with various degrees of coercion? But not…it was never…he never… It was never supposed to be like this. Never supposed to end with Stanley gone. “Look,” Stanley says. “This is the only way to save the kids without destroying the world. And you can’t do it cuz of that plate in your head. It’s gotta be me. Go on, Poindexter, tell me I’m wrong.” “Stanley…” “Then let’s just do it already! Before he comes back with the kids!” And before Ford can protest further, his brother is already stripping off his hat, his pants, his suit jacket… What choice does he have but to acquiesce? *** Even though he’s slept better the past few nights than he has in forty years, Ford nonetheless rises early the morning after the kids leave. Such that, a few moments after he does, as he stands beside the Bottomless Pit, the sun is only just beginning to rise and peek through the pine trees. “Yeesh,” says a voice approaching behind him. “You’re not one for lazy mornings, are ya?” “Did I wake you? I tried to be quiet on the stairs…” “Eh.” Stanley shrugs. “Gotta get up sometime.” He gestures to the object rolled up in Ford’s arms. “Whatcha got there?” As if it’s not obvious, Ford thinks. Even if it’s faded over the years, the carpet is still a distinctive, hideous shade of blue. “A mistake,” he responds at last. His brother grunts inscrutably. “Stan…when did you realize what this was? What it did?” “Not until a month or two ago. The kids found it in your room. I pretty much stayed out of there the past thirty years, and I tried to keep everyone else out of there too, but Soos found the door, and then Dipper and Mabel wandered in, and turned the carpet on or whatever…” “They activated it?” “Yeah. Some shenanigans went down that day. It all turned out okay though, so, ya know, whatever. Dipper told me to get rid of it after that, but I could never bring myself to throw out anything that had been yours, so I just stashed it away somewhere.” Ford’s eyes flit toward the ground. “Mm.” “Ford, why’d you make that thing?” “I don’t know. I wasn’t happy. And there were moments I thought I would be if I were…if I wasn’t...” He clenches his hand absentmindedly. “If I were someone else.” “You mean if you were me.” Another glance away. “Well, lemme tell ya, my life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, pal. And I’m not saying I had it worse, cuz I don’t think I did with what Bill was doing to ya and with what you were doing to yourself in your own head even before that. But I also don’t think I had it better.” “I know that.” He pries his gaze back to his brother’s eyes, a breath, and then: “I was wrong, Stanley.” There’s a weight to these words—this admission wrenched out of him, utterly novel though perhaps it shouldn’t be—and they both hear it. They stand in it, silently, for a moment, then, Stanley breaks the tension, nodding at the carpet. “That’s why you’re getting rid of it, then? Chucking it down the pit?” Ford nods. There are more serious things he could elaborate on. How it represents a jealousy that was a part of him for so long even as he remained unaware of it. How, once planted as a seedling in the back of his brain, decades of anger and resentment had watered it, and it festered and grew, until it was part of the fabric of his mind itself, and he hadn’t even seen it until the events of the past several days. And how now, if they’re going to live a life together as brothers, he has to—wants to—uproot that envy from every inch of inside him, cast it all away. Ford could elaborate on any of those things. But instead, he looks at the carpet, says in a voice flat and deadpan: “Besides, it sure is ugly.” Stanley ogles at him for a minute, then his features break into a grin. “Hah!” He slaps his brother on the back—and Ford tenses for a moment, then smiles and leans into it. His brother keeps his arm around his shoulder, and they both approach the edge of the pit. Stanley doesn’t move his hand as Ford hesitates for an instant, or as he closes his eyes and lets the shag carpet fall. They both stare after it until it disappears from view. Then, they turn to each other. Stan’s arm still sits firm on Ford’s shoulder, and it feels, Ford thinks, like the promise of a new beginning, or at least a return to the way things always could have been. “So, uh, ya hungry?” Stan asks. “Cuz I could go for some eggs, and Susan’s probably open by now…” Ford smiles. “Breakfast sounds wonderful.” He slings his arm around his twin’s shoulder in turn, so that they’re both holding each other as they turn back toward the car. And if any static is generated by Ford’s sweater or Stanley’s socks as they go, it dissipates into the ground before it’s able to shock either of them.

[ao3]

[stealingkneecaps]

The TWEWY timeline in DDD is weird for several reasons

First off, if we assume the kids are from the original TWEWY timeline, then they’re from Week 1, between Neku accepting the Game for what it is, and Rhyme getting erased: Neku and Shiki are partners, Shiki appears as Eri, and Neku has a Game timer; arguably Rhyme not having her memories is also a point in that favor, but she also doesn’t seem to recognize Neku, suggesting that Joshua taking her dreams for the portal also fucked with her memories of the Game itself.

However, Neku knows and recognizes Joshua in DDD, and even calls him a friend - something he would’ve only done in Week 3: Neku didn’t even know of Joshua’s existence in Week 1; in Week 2, Neku begrudgingly accepts him as a partner but very openly hates his guts; and after the Game ends, Neku’s aware of Joshua’s role in everything (maybe it’s just me, but I don’t feel like you’d call somebody you cannot forgive a “friend”).

On the other hand, there are some clues that the kids have been in Traverse Town for at least a little while, the biggest one being when Joshua tells Beat that they’ve “already been over this” when he tries to explain that the Black Coat duped him. Not to mention that Neku and Beat have their own Spirit Dreameaters and are fully aware of how to deal with the Nightmares. Granted, they could’ve learned the ropes within an hour or two, but that’s still plenty of time for Joshua to have endeared himself to Neku with his story about saving them all from Shibuya’s destruction - something he could’ve only done with Week 1 Neku.

Then there’s Joshua saying that “a friend” said he didn’t have any dreams, but his turned out to be the most powerful dream of all. People seem to think he’s talking about Neku, but aside from his Week 1 amnesia, Neku never talks about his dreams or lack thereof. You know whose TWEWY storyline explicitly involved “not having any dreams”? BEAT. Beat doesn’t consider himself to have any dreams because he’s been taught to equate “dreams” with shit like academics and careers - but his actual desire that he voices several times is to “protect the one person who matters.”

In terms of the original TWEWY timeline, Joshua wouldn’t call Beat a “friend” - their first few encounters were in Week 2, when Beat was trying to attack Neku and Joshua. However, their interactions in Traverse Town suggest a much less antagonistic first impression, and since Joshua is trying to get Riku’s help, it’d make sense that he’d refer to the gang as his friends, regardless of his actual feelings. (He also later calls himself “a friend” to Riku and Sora, just before sprouting fucking wings and swanning off into the ether - kinda suggests a blue-and-orange morality definition of “friend.”)

But then you have to take into account that Joshua can hop dimensions, or, to use KH terms, worldlines. Suggesting that he can also hop timelines. Timetravel in KH is tricky...at least for mortals. But Joshua’s some kind of demigod, canonically existing at a higher frequency (i.e. on a different plane of reality), so who knows what rules apply and don’t apply to him. Sure, the mortal kids are most likely from mid-Week 1 (if they’re from the original timeline at all), but when the hell is Joshua from? Joshua himself states that he saved the gang right before/during the destruction, and that might be true, if you consider TWEWY’s canon and DDD’s canon to be divergent timelines (which is really the only way the crossover worlds make sense anyway). Joshua himself may very well also be from Week 1, in a timeline where Shibuya was destroyed mid-week.

But the problems is that it doesn’t have to be that simple. TWEWY’s canon timeline may very well be intact for KH’s canon. A New Day mentions something terrible happening in Shinjuku - if you assume that the terrible thing is it falling to darkness, they could very well be concerned that Shibuya is next. And Joshua could reasonably hop lines to pull the gang from a time where they’re most likely to trust him, in order to keep them safe and use their Dreams (Beat) and Imagination (Neku) to restore Shibuya. This would also explain why Hanekoma ensured Beat’s survival on Day 4 - Beat’s powerful Dream was needed in order to ensure Shibuya’s survival/revival.

Basically what I’m getting at: Neku, Shiki, Beat, and Rhyme are from Week 1, somewhere between the start of Day 3 (after Neku and Shiki make up) and mid-Day 4 (before Rhyme is erased).

Joshua is from post-A New Day.