#I do wonder if it's supposed to be a character driven decision though. like how some character's weight like Amy's I think? is 'secret'

[egg-emperor]

it's so funny when people say they think Eggman is in his 30s wtf kind of 30 year olds have you seen that look and sound like him, that's just some heavy denial. why do you fear old men you coward lmfao

I wish they'd stop having his age down as unknown in bios and just come out and confirm that he's actually double that like they really see him as 60s because it'd be so funny to see how those people react

[heckinhacker]

Orianna x Reader - Aren't you amazing?

Word count: 1,230

requested?: Yes! by @solphage: "A, I hate it when it eats my ask and I have to retype it; if you want the start of an idea, perhaps robot enjoyer (you) x Orianna, and with that Taliyah bit it's making me think of taking her out to buy outfits (and if you're feeling spicier, toys) for a date and scene #h4ck :3" - I'll use the ask for taliyah part~

Slight warnings: Made-up reader's backstory so it's more fitting to the scenario of meeting her. Non-proof read.

A/N: I decided to write for Orianna and I've read her history and fanfic. Do I have a wrong feeling, or her lore was changed? I feel like some of older champions had other story, but they got re-newed? It's not THAT different, or maybe I just remember it incorrectly...but nonetheless, I'm up to date with her rn, and she's still a new character to write for me, but robot-fuckers nation arise!!

Orianna, since she left her home, felt like she left her last human part in her father's chest. She accepted said fate and with her changes before, thought nothing more of it. She did what was necessary. He sacrificed everything for her, and so did she for him in return. It only seemed fair that way.

She loved him, after all. Her Father. Someone who was ready to turn whole Piltover upside-down so she can keep on living after her recklesness.

Yet, she never did regret anything she did. Even though she lost a lot.

Losing herself, losing her creativity...it seemed to be sudden, yet she couldn't tell if she missed it. It just happened. So leaving behind her home, her family, it also was supposed to "just happen".

She did not regret any single decision she did. Even now. She left her humanity behind, yet still thought hardly of her sickened father. Even with new, healthy heart, will he be alright?

Maybe she did wrong, leaving older man behind all alone.

Yet, maybe deep inside, she did not want him to see her that way. She wasn't sure if she's still the same Orianna that went down to Zaun to help after the legendary accident. Maybe she did not want him to see what she had become, so she left.

It should be better - she thought.

It was supposed to be that way, yet she felt so, so alone.

Her hopes used to be at zero for being understood in any way, yet situation on Sir Feisterly’s Fantastical Fair, where she was sure she found someone that understood her.

Yet, the hope she thought was nonexistent was sort of taken away from her, dissapointment running through her mechanical body faster than the disease running through her body before.

Weird feeling, for real.

As she was ready to leave the place, after passing her way through two knocked-out guards that attempted stopping her from her shenanigans, she noticed another figure in front of her. Guard? Worker of the fair? By your outfit she could say you were just a worker, but she did not want to risk it, getting ready for a fight.

Yet, all you did was smile at her.

- Well, Isn't that a sight? - you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

- Excuse me? - Orianna asked, shocked. Where did this compliement come from?

- I'm sorry that you got wrong idea of Fieram's nature, but as he said, you are a miracle, unique.

- Thank you. - she answers politely, yet thinks nothing more of it.

- So...Orianna, right? I saw your little talk with Fieram, and I wonder. Do you travel by yourself?

- Yes. - she responds shortly. - Why do you ask, fair employee?

- Yeesh, cold. - you answer, shrugging. - Do you look for plus one? You could say this work is tiring me out, I'll gladly take a break from it, plus I disagree with agression on sight, screw that.

- You want to follow me? - she asks bluntly. - Why?

- Do I need a reason?

- People are always driven by reason.

- Oh, really? How do you know that, Orianna?

Unintentionally you pressed that wrong button somewhere inside her, because she had to take a moment to think. Then, shrugged. Did she use shrug right this time?

- I just do. - she says. - Then? What's your reason?

- You look just like a next wonder that I want to get to know better. Would you give me a chance? I take no as an answer. - you reassure her.

And she takes a time to think. She humms, another emotion that she just mimics, giving you a signal she still takes her time to process the idea. Yet time is running short on her, as other guards quickly approached place of a fight.

- Hey, you! Stop the robot girl! - one yells at your direction, to which you react with a playfull look towards him, then back to Ori.

- Well, no time to waste. For now let's run away together, and later think if I can tag along, no? Now go! I know the way out!

And you direct way out by some shortcut that was well known for you, making escape route way easier for both of you.

As you were out of breath and laid down on a grass far away from Sir Feisterly’s Fantastical Fair. You ended up in some fancy garden, but since most of the city was over the fair to see it's wonders, anyone who could fend you off for tresspassing is not present at home, and guards may be preocupied. Lucky.

Orianna felt no more tired than normal. Can she even get tired? - she thought to herself. She looked down at you, and out of politeness to not stand above someone laying down, she put herself to rest. Or, as how she calls it now: on stand-by mode. She sat elegently on a grass beside your figure, listening to your small laughs.

Sound reminds her of chimes dancing on gentle breeze. Soothing. More Soothing than audio programmed to speak for Fieram.

- Did you see outside world, human?

- Not really, that's why I wondered if you're going to see it by yourself.

- I may. I'm not looking for friendship, hence you should reconsider going with me.

- Oooh, why so? - you asked, curiousity peaked.

- I'm not going through aging process anymore. Befriending human from flesh will be just hurtful for both sides, but mostly on my side. You'll leave, I'll remain. - she explains.

You humm in acknowledgement, yet one part of her words sticks to your mind. You just had to ask.

- Anymore? Did you go through aging progress before, Ori?

- My name is Orianna.

- Okay, Ori.

She says nothing to that, just remains her unchanging gaze at you. If she could show any expression, you felt that unamusement written on her face. Yet still, you caught her intentions no problem.

- You can tell that story another night. For now...I'll just tag along outside of city. Later you can leave me somewhere on our way. You could say as a thanks for showing you a way out.

- I could do that perfectly by myself, I reckon.

- Oh, let me have some fun. I wanted to see more of you. Especially in action! That fight with your ball was amazing! Does it understand, just like you?

She looks down at the ground, noticing that her mechanical hand is grasping the grass under it. She did that subconciously. Before she answers, you continue with another confusing question.

- Aren't you amazing? - you ask with amusement, wathcing Ori tilting her head with confusion.

- Why? - she asks after a short moment.

- As I said. You hide many wonderous things that I'd love to see. You're such an interesting unit.

Bizzare. Very bizzare, you are. She does not say no, yet this time, she does not discourage you from trying to tag along. Maybe having companion for at least a while won't be so bad? Noone said she should get attached.

But she knew herself well enough, and knew. Perfectly knew that you'd grow on her with no time and effort.

[decepti-thots]

I was wondering, do you plan on reading the new tf comics?

I am reading it! I discussed issue one and my thoughts (overall positive) last month. I haven't gotten around to cracking open issue two yet though I have it to read (work right now is destroying my soul and doing Anything after work has been hit and miss, ooooop) but I will. I really like a lot of the foundational work being done so far though- there's a lot of careful craftmanship in it and I think the approach to the human characters is really promising (including what I've seen of #2 in posts so far), and there's some stylistic decisions going on I will probably want to talk about once we have a full arc complete.

I know the level of stylized-but-very-human violence has been pretty divisive, which I get, but that stuff bothers me uhhh. Literally not at all so that's fine by me, ngl. (And I find the current simultaneous complaints that a) 'it's more adolescent than mature, violence doesn't mean mature!" AND b) 'this is a kids' franchise and this series is aimed at mid-teens, it's Too Violent' very weird? Like. Yeah, this feels Exactly like a comic that knows a lot of its expected audience is mid-to-late-teens! Nothing in there feels remotely inappropriate for a 15 year old to me! Lmao.)

I'm interested right now to see what they do with the inevitable backstory. It seems like so far they are going FULL Sunbow, including with the very cut and dry moral divides between Bots and Cons. In G1, especially post-Movie (which the writer has said is his personal fave G1 stuff), this has a very specific backstory, where they've basically been fighting ever since the Quintessons left after manufacturing them and getting driven off the planet, as opposed to… baaaasically every subsequent (and even parallel!) iteration since. (Bar that one very weird, uncomfortable reference WFC insisted on doing recently.) This could uh. Go well or poorly depending on how it is approached! Overall! So we'll see if they are going in that direction, I suppose.

[no-gorms]

This a real question, not a complaint: how do you still ship Steve and Tony after Civil War? I used to love it, but now I cant forget that CW made it clear Steve doesn’t care about Tony or even the Avengers very much. I always wonder if The Letter TM was supposed to be a real apology and the screenwriter was just a sociopath, or if they were making him a dick on purpose. Anyway, I’d love to know how you reconcile all of that because your characterizations of them are so beautiful. I want to enjoy the ship again, so I’d love to hear your take on it.

----

The funny thing is, Civil War is what made me ship Steve and Tony again, and I feel like how people engage with CW's take on them depends on where their feelings already were when that movie came out. I'm speaking broad strokes but not to universal experiences, plus shipping is subjective. Thoughts behind the cut.

I got into Steve/Tony as a ship around the time the first Iron Man movie came out (thanks, zen-ish!) and most of the fic back then was comics-based and focused on a deep, years-spanning friendship with bumps between them. Understandably, a lot of these feelings got projected forward into the fresh potential of the MCU's new versions of the characters, and in my memory, a lot of fic post-The Avengers predicated a future friendship dynamic not too far from from what the comics had established.

Now, a lot of people thrived then and still thrive now in that post-2012 The Avengers time of rich possibility. I know I had joined that high with tremendous excitement. But my investment in them as a ship took a sharp blow when Age of Ultron came out, because (not knocking those who get stuff out of it) the team dynamic was not working for me. Workmates instead of teammates, Steve wasn't even living in the tower (WHY?) and though there were some nice moments, Steve and Tony's main interactions were plot-driven instead of character-driven, and coolly semi-antagonistic. And by 'cool' I mean impersonal, which comes back to the workmates vibe.

The Avengers didn't need to show them as a tight team, but it teased the possibility. AOU, in my opinion, didn't follow up on possibility, and as a result I lost interest. I know a lot of people filled in the blanks and used the 2012-team-as-family momentum to keep going, but I couldn't get into that.

Now Civil War. Oh boy. I understand why people like yourself have strong negative feelings about it, but when Steve and Tony fight in this movie, it's personal. It's also plot-driven, but in my opinion the character beats are stronger in how the conflict is depicted. It fills in the negative space in AOU of two people who should know each other well by now -- Tony knows how Steve's going to react to the Accords, and Steve knows that Tony's already made a decision. Tony gentles himself, and uses a personal touch to try to convince Steve to change his stance. Steve outright yells at one point, which he rarely does. When Tony learns about Zemo, he goes to help Steve without hesitating -- that's a ride-or-die that's too late, and gets turned on its head at the last moment. When Tony learns about his parents, Steve stops trying to justify his actions, because he knows Tony's pain is too great and in this, without question, Steve was wrong and he can't defend himself in any way, it's done, it's over, all he can do is stand his ground and not let Tony hurt anyone.

It hurts because they care. As opposed to AOU, where when they fought the dialogue could've come from anyone and the movie refused to address the fallout afterward, or in The Avengers they barely knew each other and (you guessed it!) the movie refused to address the fallout afterward.

Would it have been nice for them to show Steve and Tony as good friends? Definitely, I'm upset about AOU to this very day. Is Steve's letter at the end of CW weird? Yes, and I won't bother justifying it.

But to me, CW built up a storm of emotion between them where previously there was (again, in my personal opinion) barely anything at all, and as long as there's something, that's something I can work with. (And I thought it was delicious.) A lot of how I write Steve and Tony is influenced by CW and its fallout, especially in how I'd build their friendship backwards in their timeline (through the post-2012 Avengers and AOU era) knowing what we know about them and how they strongly affected each other in CW and after.

[goldenhydreigon47]

Tales from the Dreams

The Faraway Town Massacre: Possible Deaths told by Nier Vins quotes on them

Nier Vin likes to make sarcastic and witty comments with a touch of black humor, caustically mocking player's bad decisions and especially the deaths of other characters.

Poor Basil, such a horrible death. Maybe choosing to face a deranged killer by himself wasn’t a good idea. He learned that the hard way when he was left suffocating, without oxygen, unable to breathe.

- Nier Vin on Basil’s Death, in his case, getting poisoned to death via cyanide gas.

I suppose Aubrey and Kel just weren't on the same page with their plan to catch Mr. Belknap. Deep down Kel will always know he played a part in Aubrey’s death. It's not the first time he's let down a friend of his like that.

- Nier Vin on Aubrey’s failed plan to kill Laurence and her death, in her case, getting beaten to death from a claw hammer

That was one excruciating way to go. Sunny, left helpless from the grievous injuries of a great fall, only for his head to be reduced to nothing. I guess you can say he’s finally earned his rest. Good night Sunny.

- Nier Vin on Sunny’s death, in his case, getting thrown off a building from a great height

Oh Cris. Was that what you wanted? Or are your bearings a little off? ...and you! You could have chosen differently, avoided her untimely death. You know that... right?

- Nier Vin on Cris’ death, in her case, getting drowned to death at the lake

Look at Kel, Took a step into the unknown, I fear. Too bad. He... or rather, you, should have been a bit less... careless.

- Nier Vin on Kel’s death, in his case, getting gunned down by Laurence’s crew

Poor Hero. That wasn’t a very pretty pretty way to go now is it? Some people should take greater care over the decisions that they make. Such an agonizing way to go, but there are always other ways.

- Nier Vin on Hero’s death, in his case, getting blowtorched in the mouth

Oh Mari. She had a-lot of promise in life, and a very successful upbringing. How were those dreams crushed? Well, she was trussed up like turkey and left out in full view for everyone to see.

- Nier Vin on Mari’s death, in her case, getting a meat hook driven into her

How do we feel about Mr. Belknap’s lovely animatronic? I think its rather clever. Though it seems to look very realistic. I wonder where he sources the parts...

- Nier Vin on Mincy’s death, and the aftermath of it

Oh god

[robininthelabyrinth]

Same universe as the one where LXC kills JGY on a boat to not-Japan. JRS-centric as he grows up in the Nie clan and deals with his reputation as an inbred son of a traitorous bastard.

so I don't think I've ever written a fic in which LXC kills JGY on a boat, and definitely not one where JRS is a character? I mean, I've written a lot of fics, so possibly I did and I forgot, but I'm pretty sure about this one.

That being said, I don't think I've gotten any Jin Rusong prompts before so I'm reinterpreting this to be a prompt for a fic about JRS growing up in the Nie clan. Fic below!

ao3

-

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Nie Huaisang reminded himself. Risk is proportionate with reward. Your spine should be made of steel, just as your saber is.

He licked his lips, thought of his brother who had loved him, and threw himself forward with tears in his eyes.

“Oh, gongzi!” he blubbered. “Can you help me? I’ve gotten completelylost, I don’t even know where to begin –”

Xue Yang blinked at him, the lids of his eyes moving slowly like a reptile.

“Maybe you know where my san-ge is? Lianfeng-zun?”

The feeling of immediate threat lessened. It seemed he’d gambled right, and the rabid dog that was Xue Yang could still be controlled by reference to Jin Guangyao.

“I’d really appreciate it if you could just give me some guidance on where to find him,” Nie Huaisang said, lowering his voice confidentially. “I’d be sure to pay you back! If there’s anything you want –”

“Do you have any snacks?” Xue Yang asked.

Nie Huaisang, who had come prepared based on the rumors he’d painstakingly collected, produced some dragons’ beard candy.

“Not bad,” Xue Yang said. “Okay, sure.”

Nie Huaisang smiled, and even meant it.

-

“Hey, good-for-nothing,” Xue Yang said, and Nie Huaisang turned to look at his least favorite but nevertheless highly useful source of information in Lanling Jin. The fact that Xue Yang had no idea that he was functioning as such just made it more satisfactory. “You like kids, right?”

Nie Huaisang blinked. “Yes?” he hazarded, not so much because he actually did – he’d never had strong feelings about children one way or the other, though perhaps he was being presumptuous in thinking that the reference did not involve goats – but because that seemed to be the answer Xue Yang was looking for.

Xue Yang wrinkled his nose in distaste, though not, Nie Huaisang thought, at him.

“Theoretically,” he said, and he wouldn’t know ‘theoretical’ if it hit him in the face, “if there were, I don’t know, a whole bunch of them hanging around somewhere without parents, you’d be able to do something about that, right? Especially if they had a talent for cultivation?”

It took only a moment to piece together what must have happened to lead to such a question, given the ruthlessness of the cultivation world and of Jin Guangyao in particular, and Nie Huaisang marveled briefly at the idea that Xue Yang might draw a moral line in the sand over something. Presumably he felt some kinship to the children, being similarly utterly infantile, amoral, and fond of sweet things.

“Oh sure!” he said, playing up the brainless idiot who didn’t know to ask questions. “My sect is always recruiting, you know. We took some losses in the war and, well, I feel like adult cultivators aren’t really all that interestedin joining ever since I took over…”

“Because you’re a waste of space,” Xue Yang said, and Nie Huaisang pouted at him. “Whatever, the important thing is that you have space for kids. Orphans. Think, like, a whole orphanage getting shut down or whatever – anyway, not important. You’d take them back to Qinghe, right?”

“Oh, that would be so wonderful!” Nie Huaisang clapped. “That would suit everyone, wouldn’t it? They don’t have to worry about the children, and we get new disciples. I should tell san-ge – no, on second thought, he might be too busy –”

“Definitely too busy,” Xue Yang said quickly. “Wouldn’t it be nice to accomplish something yourself? You could casually show him that your numbers went up at the end of the month instead so he gives you the credit, without explaining that it’s kids making up the increase.”

“That’s a great idea! He’ll be much more impressed by that, I should definitely do that. Where is the orphanage?”

“…uh, in the forest. The back forest.”

You couldn’t come up with a better lie?

“You already brought them here?” Nie Huaisang asked, batting his eyelashes. “You’re so nice, Xue-xiong! I’ll go tell my second in command to go deal with it right away!”

-

It was in the fifth round of kids getting picked up – small cultivation clans being massacred and there was nothing Nie Huaisang could do about it, because there was either no evidence or else Jin Guangyao had come up with some motive to justify his actions and, inevitably, Lan Xichen would be there behind him, soothing over tempers and providing explanations because he believed him, every time – that something unusual happened.

“Sect Leader Nie,” one of his most trusted subordinates murmured into his ear. “There’s a problem.”

Nie Huaisang found a reason to leave the party early, a reason to go to the rendezvous point, and, once there, found the reason for the problem.

“Oh, hey there,” he said with a smile fixed onto his face by sheer force of willpower, crouching down to make himself seem less intimidating. Not that he was ever particularly intimidating, though given the rage coursing through his veins right now, he thought he might be able to pull it off if he tried. “What a lucky chance! It’s so funny, finding you here, Songsong. How are you?”

Jin Rusong wiped his eyes and looked tearily at him, recognized that the person asking was his Little Uncle Nie, and threw himself into Nie Huaisang’s arms with a howl.

This was pretty typical – Jin Rusong wasn’t much of a crier, but when he did he definitely took Nie Huaisang as his model, something all the other adults in the cultivation world had a tendency to give Nie Huaisang dirty looks over.

The only problem here, of course, was that Jin Rusong was dead.

Or, rather…he was supposed to be dead.

And if Jin Rusong was here – here, in the rendezvous point where Xue Yang put those of his prospective victims that happened to be a little too young for even him to stomach killing, at least without the personal grudge that had driven him to slaughter the Chang clan in its entirety – that meant only one thing.

Jin Guangyao had ordered his own son to be murdered.

Through demonic cultivation, no less, which was a pretty nasty way to go. There was a reason everyone implicitly countenanced Jiang Cheng’s vendetta against demonic cultivators no matter where they were, even when he ignored all territory lines and forgot to not ask for permission – the things a demonic cultivator gone bad could do were just so much worse than what anyone else could that they couldn’t risk any delay in dealing with the problem.

Well, shit, Nie Huaisang thought, even as he comforted Jin Rusong, petting the toddler’s back to try to get him to calm down. What do I do now?

-

“There has to be a reason,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “He’s not rabid. Songsong was his son!”

“Sect Leader Nie, we can’t find anything that might explain it.”

“Look harder. I don’t care how minor it is, I want to know everythingto do with Songsong. Every little detail – every person who saw him – every medical report, every compliment, every good grade –”

“He placed last in one of his classes,” one of his spies volunteered.

“What?”

“He placed last in one of his classes. About two months before his ‘assassination’, and shortly before his father started collecting evidence against the other sects that were in his way, which he later used to ‘prove’ that they had been involved in the alleged murder.”

“He wouldn’t kill his son for failing a class,” one of the others objected. “The kid’s barely more than a baby. What’s he expecting, genius from birth?”

“He’s a genius himself. Why not?”

“If everyone inherited everything directly from their parents, he’d be a whore.”

“He’d be a Jin. They’ve all got that nose, every one of them…”

“I heard he’s having the other Jin bastards killed. All of them, even the women…”

Something snapped in Nie Huaisang’s hands.

They all turned to look at him.

“Investigate Qin Su,” he said, looking down at the mess of wood and paper that had once been a fan. “Come to think of it, she has a Jin nose, too.”

-

“I don’t want to go!”

“I don’t want you to go, either,” Nie Huaisang said, feeling tired and also much more in sympathy with his poor older brother than he’d ever been while Nie Mingjue had been alive. “But you disobeyed me, and that means we don’t have a choice. You have to go.”

Nie Songsong looked down at the ground, his lip quivering. “I didn’t mean to…”

“You did,” Nie Huaisang said. “You have to own your decisions, Songsong. You can’t take them back once they’re done, no matter what the consequences. Not even if you feel bad, but definitely not because you feel bad for having to pay for what you did.”

“But…”

“No, Songsong. You cannot be in the Unclean Realm when – when he’s here.”

Nie Songsong hung his head.

“He’s not your father anymore,” Nie Huaisang said. “You know that, right?”

Nie Songsong nodded.

Nie Huaisang sighed and held out his hands, and his arms were full of a teary-eyed child a moment later.

“He loved you once,” Nie Huaisang murmured into his child’s hair. “I love you now. I wish I could give you more than that – I wish I could give you an answer, tell you why he didn’t love you enough to keep from doing what he did. But I can’t. All I can do…”

Is what I’m already doing.

“You’re enough, er-ge,” Nie Songsong whispered back. “You’re enough. I promise.”

-

“When will I get to go night-hunting?”

“You go night-hunting all the time,” Nie Huaisang grumbled. “You’re a fraction my age, and already my height, my weight, yet you wield a saber like my brother was around to raise you properly. You’re ruining my reputation, you know; now no one will believe that my incompetence comes from how short I am…”

“Not night-hunting with the rest of the sect, er-ge,” Nie Songsong said, rolling his eyes. “With other juniors!”

“Not long now,” Nie Huaisang said, looking down at the paper beneath his hands. It was all finally coming together. “Not long now. Just give er-ge a little more time to finish taking care of matters for da-ge, and you’ll be able to go night-hunting with anyone you like.”

-

“Er-ge! Are you all right? You look so pale…”

“I’m sorry,” Nie Huaisang whispered. “Songsong – I’m sorry. I’m so sorry –”

“What happened? Are you injured?” Nie Songsong demanded, already starting to pat him over, looking for wounds. “Er-ge, what’s wrong –”

“Your mother’s dead.”

Nie Songsong’s hands stilled.

“I told her about your heritage,” Nie Huaisang said, his lips numb. He’d never tried to hide it from Nie Songsong, although he’d introduced the subject very gradually and only once he thought that he’d be able to handle the revelation. “About your father – your grandfather. What they did. I wanted her to be angry at him, to turn against him, to distract him…instead, she killed herself.”

“Er-ge…”

“I shouldn’t have told her. If I knew –”

“Er-ge.”

“I should have brought her in earlier – told her about you surviving – I kept her from you for years –”

“Er-ge!”

Nie Huaisang looked at the child he had raised as a little brother the way his older brother had raised him, a father in everything but name, and who he had the constant feeling of having failed.

He wondered, as he always did, whether his brother had felt the same about him.

“Er-ge, it’s all right,” his little brother, his adopted son, said, and took his hands in his. “It’s all right. You tried, remember? Time after time, you tried to talk to her, but every single time you concluded that she would’ve told her husband instead of trusting you. She would’ve ruined everything. If she did that, I’d be dead all over again, and you with me.”

That had been what Nie Huaisang had concluded. That was why he’d never told her.

But…

“She’s your mother.”

“And you’re my er-ge. As long as you don’t die on me, too, it’ll be all right. Okay? It’ll be all right. It’ll be worth it in the end.”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. He’d already done so much, caused so much chaos and strife, and yet this moment – this was the step too far.

This was the first time he realized that he wasn’t sure he believed that it would be worth it anymore.

But by now…what else was left to do? There were no ways out of the plan he’d made himself; he’d designed it that way on purpose, because he’d known that if there was a way out, that snake would find a way to slither through it. He just hadn’t thought that he would be the one looking for it.

It didn’t matter.

He had to keep going.

His older brother deserved it, even if the younger one didn’t.

-

“I represent the Nie sect,” the young man – just about their age, though shorter than either of them – said with a smile. He seemed kind, gentle and polite, easy-going, but Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui looked at each other, and then at Jin Ling, who just scowled. “Can I come in?”

“Were you even invited?” Jin Ling asked in bitten off words. He was still bitter about some of the things that had happened in the Guayin Temple a month before, and of all them the one he was most bitter about was his second uncle’s retreat into seclusion – they were all upset about that.

“But it’s a discussion conference,” the young man said, blinking in confusion. “We’re a Great Sect. Why wouldn’t we be invited?”

In the face of such profound ignorance, there really wasn’t very much they could say, and eventually Lan Sizhui stepped forward with a smile, welcoming the young man – Nie Songsong, he introduced himself – into the Cloud Recesses.

Everything seemed fine for a little while. Lan Sizhui was able to talk to the people in charge of arranging juniors into finding another place for Nie Songsong to stay, although it would be a little delayed – Nie Songsong assured them that there was no issue – and as recompense they even showed him, at his request, a few of the main landmarks.

And then they turned around and their guest had disappeared.

“I knew he was up to no good!” Jin Ling exclaimed.

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Lan Sizhui told him.

“I’m with Jin Ling,” Lan Jingyi said. “He seemed so nice and understated – just like you know –”

“Don’t talk about my little uncle,” Jin Ling hissed at him. “I know it’s true, but just – don’t, okay?”

“We should find where he went,” Lan Sizhui decided.

It took them a while, but in the end they found him in the most unexpected place: in the rooms their sect leader had chosen for his seclusion, sitting on the bed with Lan Xichen’s head on his shoulder, sobbing as if his heart had been broken.

“What are you doing?” Lan Sizhui exclaimed, unnerved even out of his own habitual politeness.

“I came to greet my uncle,” Nie Songsong said, his manner just as gentle and polite as it had been from the beginning, although it was now evident that he was as stubborn as a rock and not easy-going at all.

“Your uncle?” Lan Jingyi gaped. “How can he be your uncle?”

“You’re Sect Leader Nie’s son!” Jin Ling accused.

“I’m Sect Leader Nie’s little brother by adoption,” Nie Songsong corrected. “It’s through my father that he’s my uncle – and you my cousin, I suppose.”

“Your – father?”

“Oh, yes. My birth name, you see,” Nie Songsong said, “was Jin Rusong.”

-

“Why did you choose to reveal yourself?” Lan Sizhui asked. “Given that everyone knows – well –”

Nie Songsong finished the character he was writing and put down his brush. “Wondering if you should let it be known that you were born with the surname Wen?”

Lan Sizhui jerked in surprise, then flushed. “How did you – that didn’t come out in Guanyin Temple.”

“No, I knew it before,” Nie Songsong said. “My er-ge is very clever, you know.”

“Yes, I suppose I do...why do you call him brother? Shouldn’t he be uncle, or – or –”

“Uncle is probably right,” Nie Songsong said. “But he raised me like a son, just as his brother did for him.”

Lan Sizhui looked down at his hands.

“Why did he publicly reveal your background, knowing that you were still around?” he asked again. “Everyone will know. Who your father was, all those terrible things he did, his relationship with your mother –”

“Why shouldn’t he? He did do all those things, and he did have that relationship with my mother.”

“But what about you? What about your reputation –”

“Are you planning on sweeping Wen Ruohan’s grave?”

Lan Sizhui stared at him.

“He’s your grandfather, isn’t he?” Nie Songsong looked calmly back at him. “Who he was, all those terrible things he did –”

“That’s nothing to do with me!”

“And the crimes of my father are nothing to do with me. My er-ge gave me his surname, just as Hanguang-jun gave you his, and for the same reason – to cut us off from the sins of our original family.”

“I suppose that’s true. But – no one knew about you, just as no one knew about me until I told them, and I only told them because they were my friends. Why’d you tell us? Aren’t you worried we’d tell more people?”

“Of course I am,” Nie Songsong said. “I hope you don’t, of course, but you would’ve found out regardless – second uncle wasn’t exactly subtle in his grief. And I had to tell him.”

“Why? To bring him out of seclusion?” Lan Sizhui hesitated. “Do you care so much for him?”

“Of course not. The last time I met him, I was a small child, and my father was just about to order me murdered; that’s not much of a basis to build a relationship. But having him lock himself away like that, as if he were in mourning…it hurt er-ge. And I won’t let anything hurt my er-ge. Anything, or anyone.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“I understand,” Lan Sizhui said.

“I’m glad you do,” Nie Songsong said, and then smiled. “I would’ve had to escalate to threats next, and I’m given to understand that I’m too short to really pull them off properly.”

Lan Sizhui snorted. “I think we’ve all learned that that’snot true.”

-

“Should we talk about this?” Jin Ling asked, arms crossed over his chest and glaring.

“What do you want to talk about?” Nie Songsong replied.

“How about the fact that your father tried to kill me?”

“Sure. Can we talk about the fact that you got all of his affection for years and years after he tried to kill me?”

Jin Ling blanched.

“I wonder if he would’ve gotten me a dog, too,” Nie Songsong mused. “I was too young for that when he ordered his demonic cultivator to feed me to fierce corpses and have my body ravaged until it was barely recognizable…but sure, let’s talk about how he tried to kill you.”

“I was talking about Sect Leader Nie!”

“Well, then, you should have been more specific. Sect Leader Nie’s my brother, not my father.”

“He’s a whole generation older than you!”

“My little uncle, then.”

Jin Ling flinched. “That’s worse. Go back to calling him your brother.”

Nie Songsong shrugged. “Would it help if we fought?”

“…what?”

“It makes me feel better, sometimes. Besides, I may be short, but I’m pretty good with the saber. I bet I could match your sword…maybe not your arrows. But I’ve always wanted to try.”

Jin Ling looked at him suspiciously for a long moment.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Sure. Why not?”

-

“I really hate that you’re kind of cool,” Lan Jingyi told him.

“I am so cool,” Nie Songsong said, and passed him another jar of wine. “Want to see my spring book collection?”

“…yes please.”

-

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Lan Xichen said to Nie Huaisang, who shrugged. “I’m sorry that you couldn’t trust me to help.”

“It’s only what I should have done,” Nie Huaisang said, not for the first time. He’d said it so often these past few days that it felt like a new refrain, an alternative to the old I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. He preferred the original. “I was his little uncle, remember? I held him on his first month party. How could I do any less?”

He did not say that Lan Xichen, who could be classified as Jin Rusong’s older uncle, had done much less, but from Lan Xichen’s expression, he’d taken it that way anyway.

“You never…” Lan Xichen hesitated. “Did you ever have any – concerns?”

“That he’d turn out an idiot? No. I figured he’d be in good company, with me.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh, you meant whether I was worried that he’d grow up longing for his blood family over his adopted family and turn against me in favor of his real father?” Nie Huaisang asked mildly. “No, not really. The memory of your father ordering you to be mauled by fierce corpses and to make sure your face is destroyed so that there’s a reason to refuse to let your mother see the body, as it would only upset her, is a fairly effective panacea against things like that.”

“No,” Lan Xichen said, though he looked sick all over again at the reminder of how considerate Jin Guangyao could be when it came to those he thought of as people, and how monstrous he was towards those he didn’t. “No, just – your brother always took such a hard line against the Wen sect…”

“Because they were raised with the philosophy that they were superior to the rest of us and my brother purposefully made himself into the symbol of their fallibility, thereby making himself and all the rest of us the primary target for their traumatic realization that they’re just as weak and vulnerable as everyone else,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes. “Our Nie sect cultivators were always especially targeted whenever we were captured – our survival rate as prisoners of war was less than half all the other sects, and it wasn’t just because we were usually more injured when we got caught. Even the civilians surnamed Wen would pull out knives and try to stab us in the back if they had half a chance! We were in a blood feud with them, er-ge. You don’t put down blood feuds just like that, not even if you want to. That’s not how it works.”

Lan Xichen nodded slowly, thoughtful.

“Anyway, Songsong is mine now,” Nie Huaisang said. “Just as Lan Sizhui is your brother’s, and Jin Ling Jiang Cheng’s. Can’t we all just agree to not care about the rest?”

“I suppose we have to,” Lan Xichen said, bowing his head. “Huaisang…did you ever think about what happens now? I mean – what should we do next?”

“I don’t know,” Nie Huaisang said, and smiled humorlessly when Lan Xichen looked at him. “I’m not joking. I didn’t know what to do when I got Songsong for the first time, er-ge, and I don’t know what to do now, either. I just wanted to see justice done for my da-ge, and I did, and for the rest – I don’t know.”

“That’s fine,” Lan Xichen said. “I don’t know, either.”

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Nie Huaisang thought. Spine as steel as your saber.

“Would you like to come visit the Unclean Realm sometime?” he asked, pretending to be casual. “Perhaps we can figure out what we don’t know together. If you like.”

“…perhaps I will,” Lan Xichen said.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Andy Cavenaugh

(My shitty gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Living in the middle of the desert was an interesting experience. You’d lived in the same home since you were born and yet there were still occupants of your town that you’d never seen or met; even though there was only a meager population of under 50.

- It was the sheer size of your state that did it. Everyone lived miles away from each other and any shop that was considered to be “nearby” was still at least a thirty minute drive so you only ever went into town a couple times a month. Which is how you met Andy.

- You’d driven into town with a list of supplies you’d needed and a wallet full of that months savings, ready to get your stuff and go as quickly as you could; hoping to get home before the sun rose all the way and baked you alive.

- Coincidentally, Andy was in town at the same time, loitering around the store you were attempting to shop at. You paid him no mind and went about your business until you were ready to check out.

- Once the shopkeep had rung you up, you found that you didn’t have enough money for all the things on your list and reluctantly told the man to keep something as he helped you pack up what you could afford.

- Andy watched the entire interaction from somewhere behind you as he pocketed whatever he felt like. Once you headed towards the doors of the building, he picked some cheap thing off the shelf and went to the checkout, watching you as you packed up your car.

- While the store clerk was preoccupied with the cash register, the boy snuck whatever you’d left behind into his jacket and waited another few moments for the man to hand him his actual purchase before he made his way outside.

- You were just about to get into your car when he came up to you, greeting you casually before he held out his hand and offered you the thing that you’d left behind. You looked at him in surprise before you thanked him and took it, shifting it to your other hand so that you could offer him yours in a handshake.

- The two of you introduced yourselves and he asked if you’d be interested in going out sometime. Since all you knew about him was that he was attractive and sweet enough to “buy” you the thing you couldn’t afford, you agreed and wrote down your number for him, telling him that it was nice meeting him and saying goodbye before you drove off. 

- He calls you a couple days later while out with his friends, a little liquid courage in his system and a bit of peer pressure from his buddies leading to his wonderful decision making. 

- You’re clueless and he thinks his friends will stick to their word of “heading out before you show”, which obviously doesn’t happen. You arrive and they’re still there, almost immediately inviting themselves to what was supposed to be your first date and making the night rather uncomfortable at times. 

- You can tell that your date is just as uncomfortable as you, but that doesn’t exactly make things any better. By the time the night ends, you’ve already decided that you’re probably just gonna count your losses and find a potential boyfriend elsewhere. 

- But fate seems to be on Andy’s side because the two of you find yourselves face to face a few days later. He gives you an apology, explaining everything before telling you that he’d like to see you again.

- It takes you a minute to decide but you finally agree and tell him that you’ll give it another shot, bringing up your own idea for a date in hopes that you won’t be bothered by his buddies again. He gives you a wide smile, asking when he should pick you up and thanking you genuinely just before he leaves.

- So, for your second date; though you like to consider it your first, the two of you go to whichever place you chose and wind up having a really nice time. He seems to be on his best behavior but his real personality shines through as well; and it’s one that you really enjoy.

- You probably give him a kiss on the cheek as a goodnight but the two of you share your first real kiss on your next date. You’d spent pretty much the entire night together and wound up parking off on the side of the road to stargaze for a while. 

- You were leaning against the hood of his car with him, looking up at the sky before your gaze shifted to the man beside you. He was preoccupied with watching the stars, leaving you to let your mind wander. 

“I’m glad we gave this another shot.” You said and watched as his focus shifted to you instead. 

- He gave you a smile and told you that he was too before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. 

- Congratulations, you caught yourself a firebird in the middle of the desert.

- Andy really doesn’t give a shit about how other people feel like 80% of the time, and he’s just a fan of affection in general, so there’s going to be a lot of Pda in your relationship; if you’ll allow it.

- Handholding. He likes keeping you close to him and making sure that you aren’t getting into any dangerous trouble; especially if you’re around his friends. Although he does wear his gloves a lot so; even though he gives you the occasional reassuring squeeze or strokes his thumb across your knuckles, you’ll most likely be feeling leather more than his skin.

- If someone’s kissing a face, it’s you. His lips are for your lips only, he doesn’t bother touching them to anything else; though he does enjoy when you kiss him on the cheek or jaw.

- Deep, slow kisses.

- He calls you honey or baby more than he calls you by your name. And as tough as he likes to pretend he is, he’d love to have you call him by pet names too.

- Cuddling is one of his favorite pastimes; he absolutely loves it. Most of the time, he’ll pull you in, pressing his cheek/jaw to your head and letting you lay right up against him, your head resting against his shoulder or in the crook of his neck.

- A lot of the time, he prefers to be loving in a more reserved way. He tends to show that he cares through his actions and by doing little things to make your life easier. Things like waking up early to put gas in your car or picking up things that you need from the store whenever he’s in town so that you don’t have to go.

- Sometimes, he’ll set up a sentence like he’s about to say something really sweet or you’ll ask him something expecting a cute response and he’ll just say something crude or lewd instead.

“How do I look.” He turns and looks at you, a smile gracing his face.

“Your tits look great.” He replies, barely holding in his laughter.

- He indulges you more than he cares to admit. He might occasionally act like he’s too cool but he’s too in love with you to say no and potentially make you sad.

- Tv dates. There ain’t shit else to do.

- Cruising around in his firebird; and sometimes parking somewhere to makeout.

- Going on road trips or long outings. There isn’t a whole lot to do in your town so you’ll occasionally take the long ride over to the next town in hopes of finding something fun.

- He’ll never tell you that he does but he always dodges potholes and bumpy areas during these trips so that he doesn’t wake you up while he’s driving.

- Driving out to the middle of the desert with a bundle of blankets to watch the sunrise; or stopping on the side of the road during one of your trips.

- Sitting with him while he works on his car.

- Going out into the desert to shoot or smash random junk. Vases, porcelain, tin cans; stuff like that.

- Playing pinball and other convenience store arcade games.

- Every now and again, he’ll get some money from his pops and take you out to a nice dinner; especially if it’s after the two of you are pushed into doing something you dont like and he can see that you’re upset. It’s usually because of Sam but he still feels the need to try and make it up to you and make sure that you aren’t gonna ghost him.

“Hey, why don’t we go and get some dinner,” he’ll say, a hint of nervous desperation in his voice as you walk out to his car. “You can get whatever you want. Dessert too.”

- It isn’t clear exactly how rich Andy actually is but it seems like he’s sort of embarrassed to have wealth in such a poor town. Because of this, I feel like he probably wouldn’t mention it and would try to dodge questions that would lead to him exposing the truth, maybe acting like he’s less wealthy than he is until Sam “outs” him and causes an awkward situation.

- Him stealing things for you. You’d much prefer if he just bought them but at least he doesn’t tell you whether or not he’s stolen it most of the time.

- Likes to fool around a lot; he’s rarely ever fully serious and he’s always trying to make you laugh.

- Can quote just about any western film you can name and does impressions of all the characters. He grew up on those sorts of things so he’s practically an expert by now.

- He likes messing with your stuff: putting on your clothes, using your mirror for random stuff, picking things up off your dresser and toying around with them, etc.

- My god, the change of character he has when he’s with his friends and you, compared to when he’s with his parents gives you whiplash. It’s hilarious seeing him lie and act like an angel during family dinners.

- His dad probably lectures him about manners whenever you’re with them: things like putting his elbows on the table, saying grace, how he treats you, etc. Its pretty amusing to see.

- He seems like a good guy who got mixed in with the wrong people. Sure, he enjoys a little chaos and trouble making like the rest of them but he doesn't like hurting people and you can tell from the way he acts afterward that he isn't proud; especially when you give him a look in the middle of the situation and sober him up.

- You’re dragged along with him and the boys a lot; or he’s forced to ditch you to hang out with them whenever Sam calls.

- Sam flirting with you. You know damn well that he’d make you compliment him or get you to agree with his praise of himself; and Andy would be miffed but unable to do anything besides listen to him while his knuckles whiten on his steering wheel.

- There aren’t a lot of people in your town for him to get jealous of but whenever there is, he does. Most of the time, it’s Sam or some flirtatious traveler but other times it’s your celebrity crushes or old boyfriends. He usually just bites his tongue or makes some kind of sarcastic, passive aggressive comment; it depends on who it is and how you’re reacting to them.

- He’s always looking over at you and making sure you’re alright whenever he can; especially when you’re out with his friends. He knows that getting into the trouble that they do can be dangerous and he doesn’t want anything happening to you just because Sam doesn’t know when to stop.

- The two of you get into a lot of arguments but they’re rarely ever serious. You mostly just bicker before the two of you give up and decide that it’s a pointless fight.

- Whenever you do have an argument, one that he causes and upsets you with, he always feels guilty and finds himself unable to stay mad at you. He might not verbally apologize but he will try to make it up to you in some way and tell you that he’s sorry.

- He’s not big on saying he loves you but he does say it on occasion; and definitely shows it more than he says it.

- The two of you probably get engaged on a whim a bit too early into your relationship but he’s promising to take you out of that desert city and along with him to Hollywood so the ring is a nice symbol of that oath. 

[perceabeth]

i will say i’ve not yet read lucky charms past the first chapter or two, but honestly like. generally the fandom is so much more critical of annabeth than they are of percy, in like everything. i constantly see ppl calling annabeth abusive and toxic, saying shit like how she ‘makes percy’s self esteem worse’ or she is bad for everyone around her, the fandom’s treatment of her is genuinely so awful whereas literally every other character is excused for their bad actions. percy almost murders a god out of anger and yet ppl r like “omg so cool!! i love dark percy!!” annabeth judo flips him once in an ooc moment for ‘comedic relief’ by rr and ppl treat her like the devil. your characterisation of them is so wonderful as i’ve seen from your other fics and it saddens me that ppl are so quick to write it off as abusive or smth for being a nuanced look into them dealing w the symbol of their trauma

ldfslklkfj u know like. ur absolutely right! people do that in canon but i suppose like- the one thing I will give them is that we don't actually see Annabeth's POV a lot so like those who are determined to misunderstand can do so with a certain ease.

the dumbest thing is that my fic is literally in both their points of view??? so it's really not hard to follow thought processes??? i think with fic like because I have actually noticed this on many of my own-- people love when conflict is externally driven and will send you hate if ur character makes the decisions that lead to conflict. like if the Big Bad appears out of nowhere and it threatens Annabeth and Percy? people eat that shit up. if Percy and Annabeth actively make decisions that leads them into some kind of turmoil? they're the worst, deserve to die, are toxic, abusive etc etc (usually that's annabeth even if percy is ALWAYS mirroring her every action, like u said). for some reason like. character-driven conflict is so feared as though if annabeth specifically isn't absolutely perfect she'd become suddenly lesser

I definitely blame it on the way people read the books like. a lot of people, even the ones who like annabeth, see Percy as literally perfect in every way despite that being so far from the truth, so they project either this impeccable annabeth who never does anything wrong and lives to serve percy or as this absolute demon that u just described. it's actually quite sad, like I'm not saying it in an I'm Too Intellectual way, it's just that I like writing stories with a stronger internal battle I think so I get this a lot!! and it's annoying bc it's oftentimes people who read and leave kudos on my OWN other work?? like u know i write them in a certain way why can't u trust me lol

[pathofcomet]

look at what you taught me

fandom: bridgerton series

pairing: colin/penelope

summary: Colin and Penelope have never been awkward with one another. Except for this one time.  (AO3) (book spoiler ahead)

In the beginning, when he travels, Colin can think of nothing else but the present moment: a ship under his feet, the lull of a carriage, the wide expanse of the world all around him. Whatever destination is coming next, if he is certain enough – if not, he’ll just make it up as he goes. The furious scribbling of his quill against paper, as he races to put down in words all his eyes take not but a second to admire. It feels like everything he never knew he wanted to do so desperately. It feels right.

Then, it becomes more difficult to return home, the more he travels. But soon enough, the travel starts to wear him down. He begins to look forward to when he’ll return home: despite his own mother’s incessant remarks, despite the brotherly arguments, despite having to see another sister married off. Even the most loving mamas trying to marry off their daughters to him seem somewhat adorable, if he is gone long enough. But the need to travel comes back, like an itch that won’t go away unless he scratches it away. He makes promises to his sisters – so that he can stay as much as possible, but he goes insane with anything more than a couple of months. He likes to believe that by now his family simply made peace with his many eccentricities, and simply paid the cook more when he was around.

He treasures the pockets of familiarity he gets when in London as much as the breathes of fresh air he gets when he’s away. He imagines he drives his mother wild, with all his coming and going across the continent. He knows what Lady Whistledown writes about him as well, and he’d strangle the woman himself, for alerting everyone of his return so punctually. Ambitious mamas are hard to fend off when you’re a young man, and it only gets worse the older he becomes, because the expectation of marriage dawns ever closer.

***

“You must agree, Colin,” his mother says, and at the mention of his name, he straightens in his chair, because it’s a terrible thing to be singled out in a conversation by Violet. “Penelope is quite an agreeable young lady.”

Colin agrees, both because he truly believes so, and because while his mother doesn’t need his confirmation, she’s kinder when she has it. Benedict, from the other side of the room, leans closer in his chair, so he can hear better whatever commentary their dear mother is about to impart with them.

“I dare say she’d make quite a suitable bride for you, really.”

All hell breaks loose. Benedict drops his foot to the floor with a loud thud, while Colin drops his sandwich, eliciting a swear for which he’s reprimanded by three of his sisters. And then.

“Mother!” Eloise shrieks, quite offended – which Colin finds surprising, considering that the two of them are best friends. “That is entirely too daring!”

Colin agrees, but he is too busy desperately trying to cough away the piece of sandwich stuck in his throat. Eloise, though still quite shocked, pushes her cup of tea in his hands, just to get him to make less noise. He downs it in one go, grateful to not have died of this particular cause. His heart, quite in override still, might provoke a heart attack soon enough if his mother does not change the subject.

“I believe you misremember your ABCs, dear mother,” he jests, because he does not want to take the idea seriously. “There’s one son for whom you haven’t found a bride quite yet.”

Benedict shifts in his seat, suddenly finding his newspaper way more interesting. But this time around, Violet doesn’t rise to the so delicious bait of teasing her second, not when her brain is so set on match-making her third.

“I don’t see why not. Isn’t she a friend to all of us?”

She stops, waits for a nod from each one of her children currently engaged in eaves-dropping on the topic.

“She’s polite, witty,” she continues listing reason after reason, all to which Colin is entirely familiar and now that he thinks about, has noticed himself, several times over, in Penelope. “And quite darling.”

He imagines darling is what girls who aren’t called beautiful get stuck with by kind mothers. He never actually stopped to even consider Penelope in any of these ways: she’s always been there, ever since he was in short pants – and that’s almost already half their lives. A fixed presence by the side of his younger sister, and a favourite of his mother, despite all the awkward wallflower tendencies in Penelope. But he doesn’t recall ever trying to pick apart her character, find her individual traits, even consider her as a… woman.

Colin is suddenly shamed by his wilful, manly indifference. Violet arches her eyebrow at him, clearly still expecting an answer.

“Mother,” he adds with a sigh. “I can promise you most certainly that I am not marrying any time soon.”

“One never knows,” she murmurs, though she allows him his momentary peace, and returns to her embroidery.

***

Only that his mother doesn’t stop with her comments, and they seem to grow in number each time she meets Penelope, which unfortunate for him, is often enough. The next morning, as she returns from shopping, she comments on how nice she looked in a dress of her own picking, and not her mother’s own distasteful choices. Each time any married sibling sends a letter, or comes visit, her efforts in getting Colin to marry are reinforced. She jabs at him with comments: morning, afternoon and evening.

And suddenly, Colin can find that there’s nothing else much that he can think about, but Penelope, and how exactly this insane idea came to live in his mother’s mind. So he starts paying attention.

He supposes parties would be generally more enjoyable if he didn’t have to attend them with his family, as much as he loves them. He can physically feel Violet’s eyes drawing across the room, and then settling, decisively, on his back, a list of eligible ladies for marriage already compiled in her mind, alongside one for dancing partners. Colin can already guess what her mother is about to tell him.

And he is right. She pokes at his elbow with her fan, nodding to the edge of the ballroom, where Penelope Featheringston stands, card empty and looking like she’d rather be anywhere else but here. Well, at least they do have that in common.

“Colin, darling,” and really, that’s all that Mrs. Bridgerton has to say to any of her children for them to do her bidding.

He makes his way across the room, trying his best to avoid getting roped into introductions by mothers or old friends alike. The faster he’s getting this over with, the faster he can return to the appetizers, and to a reconnaissance of the room of his own.

“Pen,” he says, and she startles, turning around to him with the widest of eyes, and the shyest of smiles. Huh, maybe she does look quite darling.

“Colin!” she exclaims, smoothing down a hand over her dress, and while it’s a gesture driven by nerves, it looks quite adorable.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance?”

He extends out his arm, which she takes – an answer without needing one. And it’s quite a shame, to all the other men in the room, because Penelope is a wonderful dancer, and a most attentive conversationalist during them. She asks him of his most recent travels, destination known through the letters he sent to Eloise, most likely. He’s received his fair share of foot stepping and the occasional elbow in his side, but never with Penelope.

She animates with each step, blushing at his hand around her back, smiling at a spin. He never considered how soft her body feels under his fingers, underneath the thin material of her dress, but now he is acutely aware of her warmth seeping through. He asks of the books she’s been reading, which he knows are plenty.

And at the end of the dance, he finds that maybe dancing with Penelope Featherington is not such a tedious task, after all. And at the end of the night, he’s quite certain she’s been his best partner.

***

Art exhibitions are not really Colin’s thing, really. His interest lays in a world painted in words, not in colours. But considering the fact that one of Benedict’s pieces is to be exposed to the world for the first time, of course his entire family must be present. He is proud of his brother, for having found a path in life, having chased it so full of determination.

Colin’s good at chasing as well. He’s just been proven, more and more lately, that he chases only things that cannot last, which displeases him greatly. It doesn’t mean he is not entirely supportive of his older brother. What other reason he’d have to be present here, at all?

“Penelope!” Eloise shouts, gathering the attention of her friend.

Penelope spins around, red curls jumping with the movement, and she blushes. Colin is pretty sure she’s done this every single time he’s seen her, though maybe he now begins to understand why. She nods her head in their direction, all Bridgertons replying in kind. Eloise lets go of his arm, rushing instead by her best friend’s side, hands entangled in a most obvious display of friendship and affection.

Colin knows Penelope’s family – and so he knows there’s no such camaraderie between her and her sisters, as it can be so easily observed between himself and his own siblings. He’s glad these two have each other then: a friend is one’s most fearful champion.

He walks by his mother’s side, going through the gallery, the two girls just a few feet ahead. Eloise is the taller one, yet both their heads are bent together as they discuss, such an air of ease and comfort about them. His sister says something, and suddenly Penelope turns a bit more to the side, laughing: a sparkle of mischief in her eyes and the loveliest pull at her mouth. Now, Colin finds himself quite taken with her mouth, staring because he finds it impossible not to. The soft pink of her lips, as she’s worried at them trying to come up with a comment about this and that painting. The white of her teeth, as she smiles. Her tongue, wetting her lips, from time to time, as the rooms grow hotter, with all the people passing around.

He’s lucky that the art pieces all around are distracting enough that Penelope herself doesn’t notice. His mother does, though.

“Quite darling, no?”

And she looks at the exact same person that he is, and most certainly not at the painting of a fruit basket in front of them.

“Mother,” he warns, a slight squeeze around her arm.

“Oh,” she sighs. “You can’t blame me for caring enough to try.”

Maybe not. But he can blame her for opening his eyes to something that he, like everyone else – he begins to realize - didn’t really know was right there.

***

So Colin Bridgerton, like a true hero of his days, leaves for Wales. And like the caring gentleman that he also is, he uses one of his friends as his excuse. It helps – it’s quite a useful distraction, for a while, walking over the hills, staring out at the sea, spending evenings eating hearty meals with someone that knows him well enough, but not too much. And he writes in his journal, of his quiet passing days.

By contrast, the nights are not so quiet. While he tries so hard to forget the society back in London, at night there are no distractions: and even so, while asleep, he cannot really control his unconscious mind.

So Colin dreams: at first, the most innocent of shadows, people that he can vaguely make out. Then the visions get clearer, and longer, and more tormenting. It starts with Penelope’s smile, and that mouth of hers, which in a dream he can admit to wanting to desperately kiss. Which, in a dream, he has leave to do. He knows, upon waking, that whatever taste lingers on his tongue from his haze, it certainly has nothing on the reality, and hates himself all the more for it. Then her body, close to his, the press of her bosom hard against his chest, the roundness of her bottom in his palms. The next morning, he is in need of a change of bedsheets, like he is nothing but a horny teenager.

He is sure his mother must have cursed him. The dreams continue, sweet haunting that only makes the guilt rise in his throat. She’s his sister’s best friend, for heaven’s sake, and here he is, conjuring her up in his dreams with no respite! It’s like his body has decided to take an entirely different path from his mind.

Colin is miserable on a travel, for the first time in way too long.

***

Maybe that’s his excuse. He lacks sleep, and for him, the most pressing issue is, obviously, still the one of his marriage. Violet Bridgerton is popular for many things between her children, but her cutting words and sharp mind are not necessarily one of those, especially if used against one of them. Colin has found himself at the receiving end of exactly that for weeks and months now, so he is apprehensive when he is summoned back to London.

But if his mother has need of him, then he must make haste. Of course, the real reason is simply the news of Daphne’s new pregnancy, which is incredibly happy. Colin loves to be an uncle way better than he likes being a younger brother.

Especially since right now, Anthony and Benedict have taken the liberty to pick up with the teasing where their mother stopped.

“You left in the middle of the season,” Benedict remarks, and Anthony clasps his back in a way that only eldest brothers can do, when they require an immediate answer.

“Oh, very well,” and Colin actually scowls. “I needed to get away. Mother has been incessant with this bloody marriage thing.”

And because they’re his brothers, of course they joke and jest more, at his own expense. Everyone in their house knows that his mother has her eyes set on Penelope, and everyone in their house is already tired of her insinuations, Colin most of all. That doesn’t mean that Anthony, or Benedict are going to pass up the opportunity to rile him up on the subject. It’s been a while, after all, since they’ve had reason to laugh at him in particular.

It’s the damn lack of sleep, and all of these comments, which are entirely unwarranted and so overwhelming, despite his protests, that make him throw all decorum out the window.

“I am not going to marry soon, and I am certainly not going to marry Penelope Featherington!”

“Oh!”

The softest sound, really – feminine and delicate and belonging to the single person that he didn’t want to see right this moment. With much slowness, burning red with shame, Colin turns around to look at Penelope Featherington. And he knows: by the expression on her face, the haggard breathing with the desperate rise and fall of her chest, and her eyes, that he just broke her heart.

What he says right there on the spot, he cannot truly recall. A fumbling of stupid, empty nothings, apology too small, too unfulfilling, because Penelope draws herself up and protects the little bit of her dignity left.

And she leaves, so fast that he doesn’t have the time to do what he wants: follow her to clear up things.

Benedict punches him in the arm, quite terribly hard. It still doesn’t feel as bad as the gut-wrenching guilt building up inside himself, or the self-loathe that he so much deserves. Because just as he was beginning to make up his mind regarding how dear, truly, she has grown to be for him, he has done the worst thing a person who cares about another can do: hurt her.

***

He shows up at the doorsteps of her house the following day, surprised to find Penelope alone in the drawing room.

“As you might suspect, Mr. Bridgerton,” she says, when he inquires after her mother and sisters. “Many men before you have made the same declaration, though maybe in more private settings. I am afraid any hope of marriage left in this household falls upon my sisters.”

It is the fact that she doesn’t use his name that stings the worst, and makes him understand exactly how much harm he’s done with his extremely horrifying comment.

“Penelope, I am so entirely sorry for the way I behaved yesterday. You must believe me when I say I did not mean to offend you in any way.”

“Must I?”

He stops, opens his mouth: no words come out. She looks the picture perfect of peace, and maybe this is what should worry him the most. It is his first time seeing her as more than a blushing young woman, and suddenly maybe he realizes why she is Eloise’s best friend: she’s made of tougher stuff than what he’s been led to believe so far.

“What I said, the way I’ve said it. I’ve hurt you… It’s entirely intolerable and I apologize for the situation you’ve been put in because of me being an ass.”

Situation that she handled entirely fine, given the fact that he so singled her out in a market of numerous others undesirable young ladies. She sighs at his curse, something that sounds like Colin, that has the tiniest of fondness in the tone. Something in his chest tightens with fondness of its own, for this woman in front of him, who has been nothing but a most beloved friend, to his entire family – and to him, as well.

“I…” she stops, taking in a deep breath, her hands shaking. “I already told you, no feelings were hurt. You’ve made no remark that wasn’t already obvious to everybody in the ton,” she says, and she waves in the air the latest number of Lady Whistledown.

Of course, even when he misses it, his sisters and his dear mama are quick to fill him up on the happenings of the season. In today’s fresh paper, Whistledown has written down that were the two of them ever to get married, she’d have to give up writing altogether – such an unfitting match never having been seen before.

“You can’t possibly believe those writings,” he says, suddenly offended at the paper, though he’s not quite certain on whose behalf anymore.

“I didn’t, until –”

Until he has reinforced them all the more, with his declaration. Colin suddenly feels himself flush from head to toes, at being so openly chastised. His brother Benedict has already told him, that he has cruelly overstepped most demands of polite society when he lost his temper in that way, in such a public place.

“I really do apologize, Penelope.”

He hadn’t realize how much he enjoys saying her name until now, when he so desperately wants her, needs her to say his own. A sign that things between them can be mended, move from the terrible awkwardness between them.

“Pity doesn’t feel that nice to those who already know how pitiful they are, Colin.” His gaze snaps up at her, and finds her already smiling at him – quite charming, even if so utterly self-depreciating. “Though you are forgiven.”

He bows at her in thanks, lower than he’s gone in months, if not years, just to show how entirely grateful he is. Of course, Colin is yet too young, rich, handsome and charismatic to know the meaning of her words, and too stupid of a man to try and understand where she is coming from.

But he will, in due time.

For now, maybe his favourite sight to see during his travels becomes the shores of England, when returning home. Because home has just started to mean just a tiny bit more.

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 4

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see  Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

It’s time to take a close look at Episode 2 of the second game, The Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro!

Episode 2-2: The Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro

Remember how in the last episode we vaguely got Barok on our side near the end of the trial by proving Mrs. Garrideb was actually involved in the crime? … Yeah. Forget that progress. It's being undone. Case 2-2 is the first case of the second game which features Barok, which unfortunately means he needs to be 'reintroduced' to the audience and it takes him back several steps in his growth. It makes sense, I suppose, it would've been weird starting a new game with him already being lightly on Ryu's side. Even so, it's a bit insulting how this case acts as if the chronologically previous one accomplished nothing.

So anyway, this case flashbacks to something which supposedly happened right after the first game's fourth case. The day after Soseki's acquittal, even. Turns out, Soseki awoke to find one of the other tenants in his building dead and asked Ryu for help, but (S)Holmes tagged along. Gregson is at the crime scene, keeping an eye on the place and on Soseki in particular since he's suspicious. (Sure, Gregson. Sure. Has nothing to do with the Reaper's curse, probably.) After some investigation with (S)Holmes, Gregson has enough evidence to actually arrest Soseki, which definitely feels like a step backwards. A bit later, it turns out the victim is Not Actually Dead Yet. Again! The Great Ace Attorney really enjoys throwing us for a loop by pretending we're in for another murder case.

Anyway, during the course of the investigation, I found two mentions of Van Zieks. The first is when you investigate the broken glasses and bottles in the victim's room. Susato is immediately reminded of Lord van Zieks.

And when examining Garrideb's old army uniform, Susato points out it might suit Lord van Zieks.

Haha, as if his usual outfit isn't ostentatious enough already. So we learn that Susato doesn't have a very high opinion of him at all, and I should hope it's not still related to that time he called detective novels pathetic. It's fun of them to refer to him in an investigation that he's not involved in in any way, especially when they don't know yet that he's the prosecution again.

Speaking to Soseki in the gaol, we're once again told that he's had a dreadful time in England so far. He sees foreigners everywhere and he's sure they're all laughing at him. He's been so on edge the past year that he's moved 'more times than he can remember'. So once again, we're reminded that racial prejudice in 1900s England is a focal point of this game's story. Once the conversation is over, Gregson appears to let the gang know that the victim has regained consciousness and is accusing Soseki of poisoning him. We're going to trial for an attempted murder charge, y'all!

The next day, in the defendant's lobby, Susato comes bursting in with the dreadful news that Barok van Zieks has once again taken on the prosecution. It's definitely safe to assume now that either Ryu or Soseki is the reason he's taking on these not-really-murder trials when he normally wouldn't. As I mentioned before, this is his reintroduction in the second game and so the game feels compelled to remind the player of what went down in case 1-4:

He sure did! The game also once again reminds us what the Reaper's Curse entails, and that perhaps that's the reason why Soseki is on trial yet again. He's doomed, perhaps. Susato also informs us that (S)Holmes is running late, just as he was two days ago, and Ryu thinks that's a good thing because if the Great Detective were there, Ryu might come to rely on his help.

… I suppose? He already relies on Susato for help and I feel like that would warrant far more 'preying' from Van Zieks than relying on a male, adult British detective for help. Though knowing (S)Holmes, he'd end up stealing the show and taking the words from Ryu's mouth, but that doesn't seem to be what Ryu's worried about here. I suppose the main point to take away from this remark is that Ryu wants to do as much as he can by himself. He wants to appear strong in front of Van Zieks to avoid presenting an easy target, and I think this might actually be the first time we see a sentiment like that from him. Is he afraid of Van Zieks? Does he actually care about the man's opinion? Anyway, he swears to show Van Zieks what a Japanese lawyer can do.

Inside the courtroom, Van Zieks does the usual prosecutor spiel about how the defense needs to be ready for defeat. Ryu thinks to himself that Van Zieks has a particular animosity towards Japanese people for some reason.

Good thing we got a second game in the series, eh? So because the defendant was on trial only two days ago, the same jurors were chosen where possible. The only juror not returning is Mrs. Garrideb, who's too busy being in prison. Her spot is now taken by a very fancy lady we later learn to be the wife of the Altamont Gas Company's owner. She may as well be the CEO herself with how she's acting, though. Anyway, Van Zieks addresses the jurors directly.

“However, the innocent verdict afforded to this eccentric Nipponese before... has had dire consequences. Did the accused repent for his wrongdoing in that affair? Far from it. Instead, he used his freedom to perpetrate a most blood-curdling crime!”

Van Zieks makes record time by taking off his cloak immediately after this line. He's gone straight into overdrive. The witnesses summoned this time are Inspector Gregson and... Soseki? It's very irregular for the defendant to be testifying, especially this early in the trial and especially by the prosecution's request. I can't really make much of it. It feels like the only reason Soseki is testifying is for this joke:

Also found when examining the testimony is a remark from Van Zieks that I honestly found shocking in how ferocious and scummy it is.

Unnecessary, that remark. It didn't need to exist at all in my opinion. So after Ryu shatters the testimony and scatters Gregson's fish 'n chips, Van Zieks calmly pours himself a glass of wine. I have to be honest, by now whenever he does this I'm left wondering what he'll do next. Will he crush the chalice? Will he throw it? Will he actually take a sip? The versatility of the action and unpredictable nature of Van Zieks add a bit of suspense. Turns out, his mind wandered during the testimony.

And then he ends up crushing the glass in his hand anyway. Alas, poor chalice. We knew it. So after a bit of debating back and forth about whether Shamspeare drank the supposedly-poisoned-tea after Soseki left the room, Van Zieks suddenly falls silent. We get three different, consecutive frames of him going “......” and when the judge asks what's wrong, he says this:

Supersonic hearing, this one. That is, unless the carriage entered the courthouse and literally pulled up in the hallway outside the room? Haven't we learned our lesson from the last time a carriage was driven into the Old Bailey?! So Shamspeare was apparently subpoenaed by the prosecution and has shown up to testify (with his doctor's permission). Bad news for us, since he's the one accusing Soseki in the first place. There's also a second witness to support Shamspeare's insistence there were no other visitors to the room and therefore only Soseki could have poisoned him. After that testimony is over, Van Zieks gets his wish and all the jurors vote guilty.

Van Zieks really seems to think that Soseki is a terrible person deserving of justice, huh? He was right there during the previous trial, saw Ryu prove without a shadow of a doubt that Soseki was innocent and still insists that justice will be done “this time”. Calm the heck down man, you're the one who sided with us when Mrs. Garrideb needed to testify, remember? And here comes another example of the game pretending the previous trials didn't leave an impact; when the Summation Examination is brought up, it's with disdain and this remark:

Bro, we used the Summation Examination successfully like five times already. Sit your butt down and watch the show. The jurors once again give prejudiced reasons for their decisions:

And unfortunately, instead of changing their minds by proving Soseki is a morally upstanding, innocent citizen, Ryu instead gets through this Summation Examination by basically proving Shamspeare is a worse person than Soseki. That's... not the direction you should be taking here, narrative. After convincing four of the jurors that Shamspeare is a fishy liar, Van Zieks flings another chalice of wine in frustration. The judge still thinks he could technically pass a ruling on the trial, since the new information didn't exactly disprove that Soseki is the culprit, but the jurors have been influenced so thoroughly that they can't let this new info go ignored. Testimony from the Altamont Company is allowed! Van Zieks thinks it's a waste of time, of course, and if this were reality it would be. Since it's an Ace Attorney game, we know Shamspeare's gas thievery is bound to somehow be related to the incident. Van Zieks flings yet another chalice after hearing the testimony (how many has it been already? Five?) and very shortly after, he tosses the entire bottle over his shoulder. Susato points out that he seems to be in a violent mood. I feel like someone must've pissed in his oatmeal that morning, because I've got no real explanation for why his character regressed this badly in the course of what chronologically was only two days.

Van Zieks flings two more chalices as the testimony progresses to prove that Shamspeare made fake coins to fool the gas meter. At the end of it all, he supposedly 'throws his hand up in despair and happened to catch his hallowed bottle along the way', flinging yet another one of those into the gallery. I'm starting to feel very bad for the people seated behind him now. Is the game overdoing these quirky animations to compensate for his regressed attitude? Because I'm not sure it's working... Van Zieks continues to insist that the situation hasn't changed and only Soseki could have poisoned the victim, so he calls for immediate adjucation. The game gives Ryu the option to either object or wait and see, and I have to be honest, this gave me pause. After what happened with the penalties in case 1-4, I was sure Van Zieks might dish out more punishment for waiting and seeing. Turns out, he doesn't. Ryu points out that Shamspeare likely used the tea to make these fake frozen coins of his, meaning there's still tea left at the scene of the crime which can be tested for poison.

Head in my hands right now. Again, I get it, they basically had to reintroduce Van Zieks to newcomers of the game (however few there might've been) so they had to regress him a bit, but I really don't like this. He honestly felt like he'd grown at the end of 1-4 and the game's not only undone it, it feels like they've made him even more of a scumbag. This line and this gesture honestly doesn’t quite correspond with the character established in the previous game. Anyway, court adjourned till the next day so the police can test the tea for poison.

During the investigation segment, we get a conversation that I'd quite honestly forgotten even exists. Turns out, (S)Holmes and Van Zieks are acquainted! ...or are they? (S)Holmes says he 'must pass the time of day with Mr. Reaper again, as it's been too long' and when asked whether they're acquainted, (S)Holmes replies that there isn't a person in the world who doesn't know his name, expertly dodging the question. Naturally, a new conversation topic opens up about it, so we can still attempt to needle more details out of him.

He explains the history of the Reaper's curse a bit more. Previous defendants found not-guilty would 'disappear from the capital' by falling under a passing carriage, drowning in the Thames, succumbing to a sudden fever... Etc. Susato points out that if those rumors are true, then surely the obvious conclusion would be that they were killed by Van Zieks's own hand. (S)Holmes points out that's impossible, since Van Zieks was already investigated on the matter before and for every single incident, he had a solid alibi. (This... doesn't disprove Van Zieks had anything to do with it, but okay (S)Holmes. Sure.) (S)Holmes also rubs it in yet again that Van Zieks retired from the courts five years ago and didn't return until the day Naruhodo arrived. I honestly don't know why they keep bringing that 5 year hiatus up in every single case, because as far as I can recall it was never fully explained or relevant.

I love how “foul smell” is wedged in-between those two topics as if it's also related. Anyway the conversation continues when Ryu brings up that Van Zieks seems to have a particular disdain for Japanese people. Susato demands to know whether (S)Holmes knows a bit more about it and while he's silent at first, he relents and tells us a tale (which will apparently be forgotten by Ryu and Susato in case 1-5). Van Zieks “chose to enter the legal profession ten years ago, but before that time, the man's closest companion hailed from the empire of Japan”. Which is a wording that baffles me, because it implies that Van Zieks chose to enter the legal profession at the same moment that Japanese person betrayed him, which we know is not the case. He was already in training to be a prosecutor before that, otherwise how could he possibly have prosecuted the Professor trial? Ryu is shocked and asks to know more, but (S)Holmes says the veil on the events from the past will be lifted soon enough. I'll get back to the implications of what this means for Van Zieks's backstory when we hit this exact same reveal in case 1-5.

Van Zieks is mentioned very little in the rest of the investigation segments. We only learn that he tasked Gregson with finding new clues, much to Gregson's dismay, as there isn't much to be found. The Inspector does immediately leap at new information when we uncover it, which implies he's eager to either please Van Zieks or avoid being scolded by him. I'm assuming the latter, but it's also possible Gregson feels guilty over the whole Reaper thing and Klint's autopsy, and is now compensating by working his hardest to fulfill Van Zieks's requests.

At the very end of the investigation, when evening falls, (S)Holmes reminds us that “it'll be hard to escape the grip of our friend, Mr. Reaper”. The next day, in the defendant's lobby just before the trial begins, Ryu thinks to himself that he doesn't believe in the legend of the Reaper any more than he believes in the convict's curse Soseki keeps mentioning. What's interesting here is that Ryu isn't dreading the confrontation anymore. After the McGilded trial he seemed genuinely intimidated by the concept of going up against Van Zieks (not because of the racism but because of what happened to his first defendant), but now he's not so hesitant anymore. He's beginning to see that Van Zieks can be defeated, that the Reaper thing is nonsense and that protecting his client is a fight worth fighting.

Into the courtroom we go for day 2 of the trial! When the judge asks about the results of the tea test, Van Zieks is silent for a moment. He pours himself a glass of wine, asking for a moment to “savour a liquid of a more sanguine hue”, then refers to Gregson for the full report. Gregson confirms no poison was found in the tea remains, but the prosecution wouldn't be the prosecution (and the game would be pretty boring) if they didn't have a backup plan. When Ryu proclaims Soseki is innocent, Van Zieks accuses him of jumping to conclusions, “a typical Nipponese reaction”. It's also a typical prosecution reaction to be hypocritical, no surprises here. He throws his chalice (first one of the day) and summons Shamspeare back to the stand to testify about how Soseki's unpoisoned and undrank cup of tea had been used to make the ice coins.

There's some lines here that I thought I might as well include:

“Yet on occasion, tedium distracts me and I pour more times than I intended until the bottle is dry.”

You know, it occurs to me that this drink is pretty much confirmed to be wine. He's very extra when talking about it himself, but he had his silly little wine analogies in the previous case and Susato referred to his glasses as “wine glasses”. And you would think it's obvious that it's wine, but we know Ace Attorney's long history with 'grape juice'. Either way, this dialogue leaves a pretty harsh implication that Van Zieks drinks alcohol simply to distract himself from troublesome moods. Sure, he says “tedium”, but this is a stoic prosecutor in the year 1900. They referred to depression as “melancholia” back then, and since he doesn't appear to have any friends, I expect he experiences “tedium” quite often outside the courtroom. He apparently set a rule for himself not to fill his glass more than seven times during a trial which, in turn, implies he's aware any more would cause problems. All of this is moot, of course, since 80% of the wine he pours for himself ends up on the floor between shards of glass. Still, though... Zieks, are you okay?

I don't think he is, because he pulls a very dirty trick here. Ryu proves Soseki drank all his tea and therefore it couldn't possibly have been used, so Van Zieks insinuates to Shamspeare that perhaps he misremembered using the tea from Soseki's cup and instead used tea still left in the teapot. An excuse Shamspeare happily takes, of course. Not gonna lie, I got angry, not because it's a dirty trick but because it's inconsistent. This is the very same character who all but dragged Mrs. Garrideb down from the juror bench to testify when it became clear she likely threw a knife out the window. And now he's feeding slippery excuses to a man who's very clearly lying about all sorts of things? What??? And remember this incident, because I'm going to be referring back to it later.

He crushes another chalice, removes his cloak and continues to insist that we should believe this thieving liar at the witness stand. The jurors for some reason buy the baloney served to them on a tinfoil platter and even twist Ryu's sentiments around, with some bloke going as far as to interpret the situation as 'the lawyer lad believes anyone who steals gas deserves to be poisoned'. Summation Examination gets very funky this time around, with the outcome being that Shamspeare probably blew the gas pipes (s-snerk) and the poison was laced on the pipe.

Van Zieks pours himself a glass of wine and pretty much immediately flings it, saying these are all empty assertions without a shred of proof. When Ryu presents the picture with the skin prints, Van Zieks once again breaks the rule of the prosecution staying silent during Summation Examination to point out that skin prints cannot be used as evidence, since that method is not recognized by the court (yet). Aaand he crushes yet another chalice in his hand.

Susato claims it was never meant to be used as official evidence, it was only a tool to demonstrate a new possibility to the jury. Jumping through some loopholes here, we are, since the picture is clearly in our Court Record as evidence. But, well, the prosecution cheats too so what's the harm? Some jurors vote not-guilty, but there's still one more that needs convincing on order to keep the trial going. Ryu says he has a witness who's already testified that the pipe-blowing incident did indeed occur that night, as Soseki stated the other day before the court that his stove went out in the dead of night. (Hang on, is this why the narrative made him testify alongside Gregson?) With that the majority of the jury votes not-guilty and the trial has to continue, but Van Zieks is extra rattled now. (Another bottle goes soaring.)

He once again reminds the court that skin prints aren't admissible evidence and therefore, there is no real proof Shamspeare put his mouth to the pipes (ghghhh I'm sorry this is such a silly thing to have to type out). Ryu asks for an investigative team to test the mouth of the gas pipe for poison, but since it would've evaporated by now, that's a no-go. Also, Van Zieks says that “what appears to be simple is my Nipponese friend's mind” and that's a scumbag point. Ryu attempts to turn the trial around by claiming that Shamspeare attempted to kill Soseki, making the defendant the victim, but Van Zieks ain't having it. The aggrieved being the accused is an interesting notion, but doesn't change what actually happened. In fact, if anything, it establishes a motive for Soseki to lay a trap for Shamspeare. Because who else could have known about the gas pipe trickery and put the poison there, right? Why, the true culprit, of course.

Our man Van Zieks really doesn't like (S)Holmes, huh? A tidbit which the games will never bother to explain! Either way, Ryu raises the name of Olive Green, the victim of the previous case. And I gotta say, I do genuinely like the way they integrated these two Clouded Kokoro cases together. The chronology of everything that went down is very fun to decipher, but long story short, Olive Green was at Briar Road the day she was stabbed for a reason and knows more about the 'convict curse' Soseki and Garrideb kept mentioning, so let's drag her into court! Van Zieks agrees to subpoena Miss Green in order to 'see his Nipponese friend's farce through to its conclusion'.

So during intermission some more evidence is handed to Ryu and when trial resumes, Van Zieks continues to be his usual self.

“The prosecution has tried to extend every courtesy to this amateur newcomer from dubious Eastern shores.”

Ryu sweats bullets as he meekly thanks Van Zieks “(for his backhanded consideration)”, but once again the judge is the one to call Van Zieks out on his attitude.

Amazing. It's so refreshing to see a judge who actually disagrees with the prosecution's haughty attitude problems and acknowledges it has no place in a courtroom. Nothing against Udgey, because we all love Udgey (and his Canadian brother), but this man actually grows and learns. So Olive Green takes the stand alongside Shamspeare (maybe not the best idea since Ryu just accused her of trying to murder this man) for dual testimony. When Green brings up what a dreadful ordeal the knife to her back was, Van Zieks says this:

Hang on, empathy? He's giving her advice? This reeks of humanization! Green seems taken aback and thanks him for his words, so the sentiment was genuinely accepted. This in itself is a very nice scene to see in action, similar to Van Zieks allowing Roly Beate to keep his job. Unfortunately, Van Zieks's character is in a wild rollercoaster of moral inconsistency during this particular case which sours the experience somewhat. Case in point:

YOOOU hypocrite! This actively angered me, because at the very start of this same trial day he was personally feeding lies to Shamspeare. Now he's warning Green not to lie? It gets even worse a bit later on when Green gets cornered about stealing the note, she asks him whether it could all be some sort of misunderstanding, and he says:

ACTIVELY FEEDING SHAMSPEARE A LIE. THE VERY SAME DAY. I'm all for prosecutors using dirty tactics. It helps to juxtapose them further to the honest defense attorney we play as. However, it needs to be consistent. Either a prosecutor condones a witness's lies to help their case, or they feel that they're above it. The third, most used option is for them to start off condoning it, only to learn that truth takes priority over victory. This sloppy back-and-forth morality that Van Zieks has going on here is insanely frustrating, so it's no wonder some players end up disliking him. It honestly feels as if they rewrote this case so many times, they screwed up the exact growth trajectory Van Zieks has.

Anyway, it seems Van Zieks is suddenly fully on our side now to help Ryu prove that Green was in Shamspeare's room and laced the gas pipe with poison. And I mean help help. When the judge points out that if Green had laced the pipe the very same day she was stabbed, the attempted murder would have happened six days ago. Van Zieks is the one to say “Perhaps not, My Lord” and explain Briar Road was full of police at that time. At this point, Van Zieks and Ryu (and also Susato) actively start to take turns to explain the proper chronology of events. So the defense and the prosecution are in perfect sync right now, working together to explain the whodunnit. This is the ideal outcome to any trial, usually not seen until the last case of the game, so it's curious that this dynamic abruptly shows itself in a case like this. Van Zieks does still have one moment of gaslighting when he claims Ryu may have inhaled some dubious gas, causing his judgment to be clouded, since there's no motive behind Shamspeare's attempts on his fellow lodgers. A matter that's very easily resolved, of course. Once the name of Selden is brought up, Van Zieks continues our little game of back-and-forth-truth-reveal until (S)Holmes shows his face.

“Your usual haunts are the filthy backstreets of the capital, are they not?”

To which (S)Holmes replies that it's been too long, and Van Zieks's complexion has worsened since last they met. Alright, so Van Zieks and (S)Holmes definitely have met in person before, some undetermined amount of time ago. You'd think that going by (S)Holmes's friendly attitude they might've even been friends once, but our great detective is like that towards everyone. This is evidenced by an earlier encounter with Gregson where (S)Holmes insists they're friends and Gregson says that they're not friends, to which (S)Holmes quietly agrees. So really, this little exchange tells us nothing about the history between the great detective and the Reaper.

Some shenaniganry, a breakdown and admittance to guilt later, the court is finally ready to deem Soseki innocent. Van Zieks once again has some interesting lines here:

“And one I certainly didn't envisage walking... with you.”

Considering he attempted to trip us up for most of this walk up until the very last stretch, I don't like this remark very much. It feels very unearned. This is another one of those things that would've been more suitable in the last case of the game, but instead it's being crammed into a messy mid-game moment with the pretense that Van Zieks learned a lesson about being our ally.

In the defendant's lobby, the game basically gives the exact same dialogue as at the end of the original Clouded Kokoro case; that Soseki is returning to Japan and hopes to pen his own literature there, with the rest of the cast pointing out that the Reaper's Curse must factor into his decision to some degree. So we're still holding onto that question of whether Soseki will escape an untimely death or not. Anyone who's already played the last case of the first game will know the answer, of course.

So to summarize... I genuinely didn't enjoy Van Zieks's portrayal in this case. It really feels as if something went horribly wrong and they got some notes mixed up about where his character was already headed in the previous game. It's a crying shame. There was a lot of potential for a case set between 1-4 and 1-5, but they really dropped the ball when it comes to consistency and I've no doubt that it reflected badly on people's opinions of him. Though I think when we return to the first game for The Unspeakable Story, everything will right itself out again to some degree. Stay tuned!

[poliel]

Fix-It Deaths: Floofty

Content warning: this fic contains major character death.

I had the idea to do this way back when I first played through the bad ends and got disappointed by Floofty's reaction to Shelda's deaths and vice-verse as well as Cromdo and Beffica's reaction to each other's death, and the fact that when one of the Fizzlebean siblings died, the other has no reaction to it whatsoever. I'd drifted away from the idea, pulled by other ideas for this fandom as well other fandoms, but as I said in the summary, the horror of it fits for the darker side of the Halloween spirit so I returned.

As of right now I only have two of these written, this one and the one where Shelda dies. I was supposed to start the Beffica chapter tonight but, uh, it ain't happening. That should be fine though, I have the whole month practically to finish the last two chapters. I make no promises though, other than to try my best, my main focus for Halloween is art so it might not happen.

Happy first day of Halloween regardless though.

~

Being proven right about bugsnax would’ve been a wonderful moment under almost any other circumstance. But as it as, Shelda only desperately wished she’d been wrong instead.

“I feel our decision to split up was a mistake,” Floofty said as they fired the fist, knocking a serious of snax back to splat into the ground more due to luck and the density of them than actual aiming skill.

“One is in agreement for once.” Shelda’s only weapon was a hoe stolen from somewhere after the first wave had come out of the ground. It had been fairly easy to push it back. This second wave though, not so much.

Shelda held the right flank while Floofty guarded their left. Even so they were being driven back, step by step until… Shelda gasped as her back pressed against the rough wooden boards of the barn’s wall. On one hand they couldn’t be attacked from behind, on the other though they had nowhere left to go.

The ground rumbled and shook again, throwing off Floofty’s next shot, making it miss utterly this time. Almost as if sensing the opening more bugsnax grew out of the ground and pressed in.

“Back foul toxins, back!” Shelda screeched as she swung her hoe, whacking a couple strawbys away.

Floofty let out her own wordless battle cry. But Shelda couldn’t afford to pay attention to them. She just had to trust them to hold off the snax on that side much like how they were doing for her. Neither of them were going die here today, Shelda simply would not allow it. They were going to make it through and later once they were safe and sound on the mainland again she was going to make sure Floofty never forgot that she was right and they were wrong.

So, abandoning her pacifism for the first time since she’d taken that vow, she went to town with the hoe. Smashing anything that dared approached until her hoe was bent and dripping in various bugsnax juices. She kept going on even as her arms started to ache and burn, her breathing ragged and heavy.

Oh grumping fuck, how many more could there be? Surely they had to stop coming eventually, right? Hopefully help would come before…

Floofty let out a cry of distress. They’d fallen to their hands a knees, either knocked down by an aggressive snac or lost balance some other way, didn’t matter. They were given no time to even try to right themself before they were swarmed completely.

The bugsnax covered every inch of them as they crawled up and forced their way into their mouth. They choked, gagged, and sputtered, flailing their paws uselessly underneath the mass of bugsnax.

With a vicious snarl, Shelda went at them, whacking as many away as she could. But… all the bugsnax had stopped going for her, instead focusing on the easier already down target. There were too many and they just kept coming. Even if she’d been in her prime, there wasn’t much more Shelda could’ve done.

Far too soon the gagging and sputtering spotted, as did the flailing. The bugsnax pulled back, revealing Floofty, or what was left of them. Their snakified flesh was… oozing off them, revealing white bone underneath as it melted into the ground.

Shelda turned and gagged, probably the only thing keeping her from vomiting was the fact that she hadn’t eaten in a while. Before she could recover the bugsnax were swarming her next, climbing up her legs. This was it, now it was her turn. She was going to share the same fate as…

A very well aimed shot from the fist canon knocked the snax off her chest. She gasped, looking over to see Buddy already aiming their next shot. With no time to thank them, she burst back into motion, quickly knocking the rest of the snax crawling up onto her off.

For whatever reason, the flow of snax was slowing. Allowing Buddy to quickly clear a path, freeing Shelda.

“Go back to the airship,” they said, not even looking at her as they continued to keep the bugsnax away.

“But what about…” Shelda glanced at what was left of Floofty. Just a pile of bones where once, just a matter of minutes ago, there had been a full living breathing grumpus. How was it even possible for someone to be there and then gone in such a short amount of time? No one deserved such a fate, not even them… especiallynot them. “If nothing else we should at least…”

“No time,” Buddy interrupted with a slight growl. “Get out of here now before they start swarming again.”

Shelda’s suggestion that they should gather up Floofty bones for a proper burial later died on her lips. Buddy was right, as much as Floofty deserved at least that, they didn’t have time. Shelda was beyond spent and sticking around while Buddy protected her was only holding them back from rushing off to potentially help the others. So… she tore her gaze away and turned to run back towards the airship.

She encountered a few bugsnax on the way back but nothing she couldn’t just run past. Filbo greeted her as she reached the ship but she ignored him as she made her way over to the ship’s cabin. She didn’t go in though, instead sinking to the deck and leaning back against its wall.

Don’t think about it. …. Don’t think about it. … Don’t think about it. … But in all her years and having known many people who were gone now, she’d never witnessed anyone she’d known well die violently. She’d never known someone who’s death she could’ve possibly prevented. If she’d managed to get the snax off Floofty or hold them off entirely for just a little longer than Buddy would’ve arrived in time to save both of them.

Such an awfulway to go too. And the two of them been starting to get along, sort of anyway. But now that was all gone. All of everything that made up Floofty was gone forever. All of the scientific achievements and discoveries their brilliance might’ve led to in the future to help the world and grumpkind was never to be.

It was unwise to dwell on such things, she’d learned that a long time ago. But despite that and all her years and supposed wisdom, her thoughts circled on it anyway.

~

Snorpy and Chandlo arrived on the air ship next, Snorpy huffing and puffing from the run, though Chandlo looked a little spent too. Oh no. Shelda would have to tell Snorpy about Floofty. … Not now though. Let him not have to bear the knowledge of how horribly his sibling had died for just a little while longer.

But alas, as soon as he was done checking in with Filbo on the airship’s engine, a process that took only a few seconds, he and Chandlo turned and made their way over to stand before Shelda.

“Floofty was with you, right?” Snorpy wasted no time getting to the point, huh? “When I was running to help Chandlo, I’m sure I saw them with you. So… where are they?” His expression was confused as he looked around the ship, seemingly the thought of the worst having happened hadn’t even occurred to him yet.

Shelda took a breath, intending to spout some ‘wisdom’ that would really be just gobbledygook meant to obscure the bad news and hide it for a little longer. But… no, now wasn’t the time for that. “They’re dead.”

His face dropped like a stone. “What?”

Chandlo’s expression almost mirrored his. “Nuh-uh, no way they’re dead… right?” He looked at Shelda as if she could somehow take those words back and make them not true. If only she had such powers.

She could only shake her head. “I tried to save them. I really did but… it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry.”

For a moment Snorpy looked like he was going to say something but ultimately just shook his head and turned away as he shrunk in on himself. Chandlo followed as he went to the other corner to grieve in.

“Wait! Floofty’s really dead?” Filbo cut in. To his credit though he remained by his post.

“Yes,” Shelda said. “Now be quiet about it.” The last thing anyone needed was Filbo being Filbo about this.

“Oh uh… okay.” He shrunk in on himself too and turned away once more. “Sorry Snorpy about… I guess you probably don’t want to listen to me about it but… sorry. … I’ll shut up now.”

And this was only the beginning of having to tell everyone about Floofty. Well at least the hardest part was out of the way. Hopefully everyone else would make it back to the airship okay.

[astudyinfreewill]

hey this may be a stupid question, but it's already been a long time since ive read trk so i don't remember everything properly, so can you explain to me why exactly ganseys behavior in the book is seen as problematic??

hey! don’t worry, there are no stupid questions in my book. in fairness, it’s not about gansey’s behaviour in trk, it’s about his behaviour throughout the whole series. most of his problematic actions all come down to the same basic flaw: self-centeredness. for all that gansey is a generous and loving person, he can’t help but make everything about himself. he is driven by anxiety to define his place in the world beyond his privilege, yet he is blinded by that very same privilege - a bad combination, and one that leads him to show very little empathy for the people he loves.

like many teenagers, he’s looking for affirmation from his friends... but then resents them for not giving it, while failing to see that (most of) his friends are dealing with traumatic issues. when his friends reject his input - because it is not what they need or want at the moment - gansey always, always takes it personally. at no point does he try to ask himself, okay, if this isn’t what my friends need, then what do they need from me and how can i be a better friend? instead, he goes straight into self-pity mode, complaining that his friends reject his support and walk away from him. thing is... it’s not real support if it only makes him feel better and not them.

i don’t really have the time to write an extensive meta on all of the interactions where gansey’s lack of empathy comes into play, but here’s a list of just the most glaring ones in the series, in no particular order:

gansey consistently tries to pay for adam’s way and persuade him to move in with him, even though adam has told him multiple times that he is uncomfortable with it because independence is key to his sense of self as an abuse survivor. sometimes he does this even when he’s fully aware that it will start a fight. despite that, adam is usually the one apologizing, at least on page

notably in trb there’s a scene where gansey tries to get adam to move in with him, but when adam asks what’s going to happen if gansey leaves henrietta - is adam just supposed to drop out of aglionby and follow him? - gansey doesn’t reassure him that’s not gonna happen. he just says adam will have to start again at a new school. 

as i said above, this is not true support because it helps gansey feel better without inconveniencing him, but it is not what adam wants. if gansey wanted to support adam, he’d at least promise he would stay in henrietta for their final year of high school, instead of expecting adam to follow him around the world.

when adam rejects that offer and says he’ll stay in the trailer park, gansey takes it incredibly personally and his first response is to victim-blame adam for his abuse, saying things like: “you let your dad pound the shit out of you. you’re as bad as [your abusive mother]. you think you deserve it.” when adam still refuses to move in, and tells him, rightfully so, that gansey doesn’t know what it’s like for him, gansey follows that up with “don’t pretend you have anything to be proud of”. this is past mean and straight into cruel.

adam is the one who apologizes after this fight. let that sink in.

when thinking back on ronan’s suicide attempt, it is strongly implied in the text - and was made explicit in deleted scenes - that gansey appears to have taken ronan’s suicide attempt not just as a traumatic event, but as a slight against him, and is always vaguely guilt-trippy when it comes up (i.e. you promised me you wouldn’t get suicidal again)

gansey does illegal things on ronan’s behalf, multiple times, without ever wondering if this is what ronan wants, see: bribing school officials to keep ronan in school when ronan explicitly wants to drop out, because staying in school is what gansey thinks he should do. even if gansey’s heart was in the right place (i believe in staying in school), he is essentially involving ronan in illegal dealings against his will.

gansey is happy to share his search for glendower with the others, and delegate tasks to them (adam especially) as long as they do things his way. when adam acts against one of his decisions, gansey is absolutely unable to let that go. and while i understand that he is hurt by the breach of trust, because adam went behind his back, his language is telling: “i did tell him that we were to wait, right?”. you don’t “tell” your friends what they “are to do”. that’s not an equal relationship. 

this is also seen in the way gansey acts with ronan in more of a parental role, actively ordering him about. you know there is a problem when an outside character refers to ronan as “gansey’s dog” and neither gansey nor ronan disagree with this.

there’s the infamous hospital scene in trb, too, which has been excellently analysed in this meta post by @bleachersmp3 and @mericatblackwood, but i’ll say a few words about it anyway

in this scene, adam has just been beaten into losing his hearing. he has just come out of the hospital, bruised and traumatised, and has been told he will now have a permanent disability as a result of his abuse. he is now also homeless, because by pressing charges against his father to protect ronan, he has ensured his parents will kick him out for good. so he is forced to move into monmouth - something we have been told from the start of the book he absolutely did not want, because it was critical to his sense of self not to depend on gansey’s wealth. so, he’s bitter about it.

and okay, that’s not entirely fair, because it wasn’t gansey’s fault. but if your friend had just undergone such horrific trauma, surely you would be a little lenient, and understand they’re not being objective atm, right? well, not gansey. instead, gansey launches into a tirade at him: “what is your problem, adam? [...] is there something about my place that’s too repugnant for you? [...] I’m sick of tiptoeing around your principles!”

when adam snaps at him that he’s being condescending by using highbrow words (we can assume that this is a discussion they’ve had before, because adam tries to get gansey to use more everyday words multiple times in the book, especially when it’s clear that blue doesn’t understand something, so it’s something gansey already know adam finds condescending), gansey goes straight to victim-blaming again, this time with a classist twist thrown in: “i’m sorry your father never taught you the meaning of repugnant. he was too busy smashing your head against the wall of your trailer while you apologized for being alive.”

gansey does not apologize at any point after this fight. 

when adam sacrifices himself to cabeswater - which he does explicitly to stop whelk from murdering one of them and save gansey - gansey takes it as a slight against him, because it goes against what he told adam to do, and sadly asks adam “why? was i so awful?”, showing he has completely misunderstood adam’s reasons. adam tells him, and not for the last time: “it was never about you”.

it clearly doesn’t sink in bc they have the same discussion in the dream thieves, when gansey again asks him why did he go to cabeswater against his orders. he does this in an emotionally manipulative way, too - implying that ronan and blue both think badly of him while gansey has been defending him so adam owes him. adam again tries to tell him “it wasn’t about you”, which gansey refuses to believe, and reminds adam that the glendower search “belongs” to him. adam replies that if gansey wants adam’s help - which gansey relies upon frequently, as it seems like adam is assigned a very large share of research and coming up with ideas - he needs to treat him as an equal

after the fight, when adam has a mental breakdown due to the combination of stress, ptsd, and magically-induced hallucinations, and is found wandering along a highway, clearly dissociating and undergoing amnesia, gansey is still so bitter about their fight that he contemplates leaving him behind in dc, so that “adam will have to apologize for once” (for once???)

consider all this emphasis gansey puts on how much adam betrayed his trust; consider that gansey then spends nearly two books seeing blue behind adam’s back (starting in tdt, through bllb, and halfway through trk)

consider that despite the fact adam takes the reveal gracefully and thanks gansey for his honesty, when adam later in trk is honest with gansey about his feelings for ronan, gansey’s immediate reaction is to assume adam is using ronan as a sexuality experiment and warns him not to break ronan’s heart, because ronan is just so fragile and adam is just so cold

consider that the only basis gansey has for making this assumption is that “adam has hurt him (gansey) so many times before”, but never stops to think about his own responsibility in their disagreements, or whether he ever hurt adam 

as you can see, the vast majority of these are in the first two books, with the exception of the “shovel talk” in trk. i would like to say gansey grows over the series, but i think unfortunately it’s more to do with the fact that starting with bllb, the plot is split between gansey/blue and adam/ronan, so gansey just doesn’t get as many interactions with adam and ronan (he’s still bribing school officials on ronan’s behalf though, including selling monmouth which at the time is where ronan is also living). 

gansey isn’t a bad person, and doesn’t (always) mean badly. he does love his friends. unfortunately, his refusal to see things from anyone’s perspective but his own makes him a toxic friend on a great number of occasions.

[adifferenttime]

Anon from earlier-- thanks for the thought-provoking answers, I really enjoyed them and they gave me a lot to consider! I think you're totally on the ball with your thoughts on the matter, but to clarify, I suppose I was more asking if it would be better to combine Dog/God into a single entity rather than prioritizing one over the other, based *on* the concept of placing value on Dog's identity as much as God's. This doesn't invalidate any of your thoughts on the subject, though. I do wonder, though, if this third choice would still be considered less a *compromise* and more a *bad for both parties* thing, because I feel like even if you did wish to preserve Dog's freedom, you'd still be erasing a lot of who he is and what he has gone through, the same way you talked about how that would happen to God. The question is, in Dog's choice, would that be better? Would him and God coexisting and being happy justify such a choice? Do we have the right to make that choice for them both? It's a really interesting thought experiment and easily one of my favorite parts of Dead Money. Anyway, though, thanks for responding to either ask, and I look forward to seeing more of your work analyzing the themes of NV, since you go really in-depth and I appreciate that! Have a nice day!

Yay I love this :-)

My whole read of that situation is that the third option is less coexistence/compromise than the death of both and the creation of a third entity. My guess is that the three characters - God, Dog, whatever the new dude decides his name is - are intended as representations of the id (Dog), super-ego (God), and ego (the other guy). I don't read them this way, though, because the ego's mediation between id and super-ego only happens if both id and super-ego are focused, indispensable parts of the same person. Dog and God aren't impulses, but people. They can exist separately from one another, they have their own sets of memories, motives, and opinions, and both have id/ego/superego components of their own (Dog's drive to serve/have people "not be mad" at him is super-egoistic, God's fear of pain is id-driven). In this scenario, they're full, complete guys in their own right, so in the third ending, where their self-consciousnesses are destroyed, it's less reconciling two disparate parts of one man (no moral cost) than killing two people (substantial moral cost). The third option as "bad for all parties" instead of "compromise" is exactly how I read it based on the disconnect between what I assume the intention was and the ultimate execution.

"Do we have the right to make that choice for them both?" is an interesting question, especially because your options are only so limited due to the choices Dog made prior to your arrival. Dog has already acted to get everyone in the room killed, so I think it's fair to say that inasmuch as he's able to make an informed decision, he's chosen to kill God, irrespective of the costs to himself or you. You can allow him to follow through on that, but it means privileging his choice over God's life (and your own). You probably don't have a right to the power to kill or save them, but if you choose not to intercede, Dog's choice wins out by default, and God is once again denied a say in what happens to him. Plus, you die, which isn't ideal.

They both want to live, and they both want the other gone; no outcome is ideal for both of them. If you believe your first responsibility in this situation is to act as an impartial arbiter, then yeah, absolutely, you can kill them both - but if you believe you have a moral responsibility to preserve human life that supersedes your other responsibilities, I think picking one or the other is a better option.

[sodone-withlife]

human

@yourlocalheartbreaker thanks so much for your post about Nelson’s Sparrow. I had already started a blurb exploring Hotch’s response to Gideon’s death, but you brought up the fact that he very likely had to ID the body, and I just had to include that in this blurb. 

I’ll be honest: I have done little to no proofreading, and it doesn’t flow as smoothly as I’d like, but I just needed to get this out. 

warning: canonical character death

word count: 2.08k words

“Where did Hotch go?”

Rossi looked up at Morgan leaning against the doorway. “He’s taking some personal time.”

Morgan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Now? It’s barely after lunch, what does he need it for?”

Rossi shook his head. “Didn’t ask.”

“And you aren’t at least a little concerned?” Morgan asked skeptically. “Has he ever up and left in the middle of the workday?”

“Well, I’d ask, but he said that he’s cutting communication and that if he is needed he’s only answering Penelope or Jessica’s call.”

“Jack’s not with him?” Morgan asked, taken aback at yet another out-of-character decision. He couldn’t remember if Hotch had ever taken a personal day without Jack.

Rossi shrugged, though his concern was also obvious. “Even Hotch needs a break sometimes.”

The crisp winter air of the Virginia wilderness was filled with silence, only cut by the sounds of nature. Hotch stood in front of the cabin, staring blankly and letting the ambiance of the place that had been Gideon’s chosen safe haven wash over him. It was a far cry from his once-daily forays into the mind of the scourge of humanity. 

Only now it was tainted with blood, with the murder of the man who had found a refuge in the peace of this forest. 

Is there really a place on the planet that hasn’t seen the vileness of man?

How could he possibly articulate the sheer depth of the grief and resentment that he felt towards the man who had once been one of his mentors, who had left him floundering in the dust to clean up the mess that was left behind?

Insomnia had been keeping Hotch up way past midnight and he was going through paperwork with the hope that it would bore him to sleep when he got the call. Years of getting cases in the middle of the night had left its mark, as the sound of his ringtone cleared his head as it had done so many times in the past. Reaching for his phone, he anticipated the multiple trips to the coffee machine that had replaced the old, faithfully crappy machine that had been there when he first joined the unit.

And he was right—he wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night. 

Or the next night, for that matter.

Hotch remembered feeling strangely detached from his person as he put on a coat and, on a whim, pulled out his service weapons from the safe, grabbing his work bag as he left the apartment and headed towards his car. 

In any other situation, he would have worried about falling asleep at the wheel during the long drive.

In any other situation, he would have called the team to assemble.

But this was not any other situation. Seeing the flashing red and blue lights from an emergency vehicle illuminating the cabin and the surrounding clearing proved that something was wrong, and when he approached one of the EMTs, he knew this was something he had to do for the sake of the team. As he always does.

For the sake of the team.

They had gone through too much.

It was a surprise to see his contact flashing on his phone screen after over seven years of no contact, but it was alarming when he heard pained groans and then a series of gunshots from the other end. 

And that was when the terrible thought came into his mind.

And even though Hotch knew what he was going to see when the EMTs exchanged a look and let him into the cabin, it certainly wasn’t less of a shock, wasn’t less of a punch to the gut to see the body, crumpled on the ground with blood pooling around it like a grotesque puppet with its strings cut. 

Hotch remembered staring blankly at the man who had left the job that killed his fire in search of himself, but whose fire was now extinguished. Permanently. 

For the sake of the team.

He remembered snapping back to himself to find that he had knelt down with his own hand near the neck, having just checked for a pulse in hopes that it would make it—real? fake? He cleared his throat before standing up and turning to the waiting EMTs. At the sympathetic looks he was getting, he felt a faint annoyance rising through the ice that froze through his being.

He wasn’t the floundering, young, ambitious agent that probably would have been giving some indication that he was barely holding himself together at the seams

He wasn’t the friend—were they really friends, though?—who hadn’t seen or talked to him in years and would probably be giving some indication that he was grieving.

His name is—

His name was Jason Gideon, he’s a former FBI agent. I will be calling in federal law enforcement to investigate this, please make yourselves available in the next few days to give your statements… 

He had to be the uptight hardass that didn’t let anything affect him. He had to retreat into the cold mechanical mindset that protected him, for the team.

It didn’t feel right, however. How could he put on such a facade in a place that was supposed to be safe? How could he, in the place where Gideon could be totally himself without fear of the demons that haunted him?

How could he treat this like any other crime scene?

For the sake of the team.

The first call he made was to Stephen. It wasn’t the first time he had made a notification of death to family members, and he didn’t let it be any different this time. 

(oh, it was so different.)

It’s Aaron Hotchner, I worked with your dad in the FBI. I apologize for calling so late… 

And then calls were made to the team. They were short—there was no way Hotch could possibly tell them about the murder over the phone, but the team was smart. They all knew something was wrong.

I need you to come to Gideon’s cabin as soon as you can. I texted you the address.

The same thirteen words, repeated six times to six different people, with his same detached, precise tone of voice.

Emily. I, uh, just wanted to let you know that Gideon was murdered. In his cabin a few hours ago. I’m there now, I’ve called the rest of the team, and… Yeah, I just wanted to let you know. I hope everything is going well in London.

Emily hadn't picked up, but she called Hotch back a few hours later. It doesn’t feel real, he had said when she asked after him. He was never really able to lie to her, the woman who he found was just as broken and yet fiercely protective as him, and he knew that as he changed the subject and started updating her on the status of the investigation.

I’m not sure if you’re even going to listen to this, but I thought it would be better if you heard it from me than from an email, or text, or… yeah. 

I just wanted to let you know that Gideon was found shot multiple times in his cabin early this morning; he was murdered. The team worked the case and solved it, the unsub was killed along the way, so… there’s going to be a funeral, and though I’m not sure who his son is planning on inviting, I'll tell you where he is buried when that happens, and… yeah. Just thought I should let you know. Hope you and your family are doing well.

The words had come surprisingly easy to him when he left a message for Elle. Their correspondence over the years was never constant and never for long periods of time, mainly consisting of pictures that kept the other updated on their lives, and they never called.

Now, he wondered how she reacted to getting the message. Did she curse him out for calling for the first time in years only to tell her that her old colleague had been murdered? Did she confide in her partner?

Dave had been the first to get to the cabin, and Kate and JJ followed closely behind. Reid, Morgan, and Garcia came shortly thereafter. Hotch watched as all of them took in the state of the cabin and the sheet-covered body he was standing sentinel over, and no one said anything until Garcia took the first step.

It’s Gideon.

Grief was a terrible feeling, and it cut right through people’s masks and shone a light on the good and the ugly that was within a person. It was a feeling Hotch was intimately familiar with, many times over now, but the team had only seen him ripped open once. He was well aware that he didn’t make for a pretty sight when they got to the house he had lived in with Haley. They had walked in on a fit of explosive, murderous anger that had been immediately followed by pure, unadulterated grief.

He was well aware that the shattering of his infamous control had scared the team.

And so, just like a few years ago with Emily, Hotch watched over his team as they rushed to solve the murder, all driven by the pain of loss. 

He watched as Rossi gave everyone an insight into how the BAU started when it was just him and Gideon before Max Ryan had taken them under his wing.

He watched over them over the next few days and weeks as they all grieved in their own ways, keeping an eye out for red flags.

But now, when he wasn't even trying to keep up the facade, he still felt numb. For how could he articulate the so many complicated feelings he had regarding the man who had guided him, who had taught him to be sure of himself, who had abandoned him without a word?

Hotch looked around, faintly surprised to find that he had walked into the cabin and was simply standing in the middle of the living room. He had only been to the cabin once prior that night, and there was a palpable difference in the air.

Tainted.

A few weeks has gone by since this cabin had actually been lived in. Everything was still in its place, perfectly preserved like a museum exhibit.

Like a crime scene.

Unable to remain any longer, he turned to walk back outside when something on the wall caught his attention. He walked over, only to stop dead a few feet away.

There were multiple photos and drawings of birds pinned to the wall, and near the edge of the collection was a single picture of the team that had been when he had left. Peeking out from under it was a single slightly yellowed envelope.

It was with caution and slight guilt that he moved forward and carefully unpinned the photo to get the envelope. As he walked over to the nearby dining table and sat, he carefully pulled out the contents of the envelope—a single, folded sheet of paper.

When his eyes landed on the first line of that painfully familiar handwriting, he could only be glad that he was sitting, else his legs would have given out from under him at the sight of his first name.

This was written years ago, he thought with startling clarity, why didn’t he send it to me?

If anything, he felt even more numb as he read through the letter. And when he finished, there was still nothing. 

He wanted to scream, he wanted to hit something, he wanted to feel—anything. 

But he felt nothing—nothing but exhaustion. 

You’re going to go weeks—months, even—feeling fine. And then you’re going to have a bad day.

He’s had many bad days before. He never wants to have one again.

He’s spent years chasing after unsubs—psychopaths, rapists, terrorists. He’s spent years trying not to lose himself along with the people who’ve left because the darkness of this job finally caught up to them.

Elle, Erin, Alex, Gideon, Emily… Haley.

But maybe he did lose himself. Why else can’t he bring himself to feel anything, even after finding out that Gideon still remembered that young ambitious agent that shadowed him and Rossi like an eager puppy? 

And if he did indeed lose himself, maybe it’s for the best. 

The alternative is too painful to imagine. And despite outward appearances, Aaron Hotchner is fragile.

He is human. 

[hiscyarika]

Need You Now

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x Reader

Summary: It’s been a year and a half since Reader left Jack, but when she receives a voicemail late one night she wonders if she made the right decision. 

Warning(s): Angst, Mentions of Injury

A/N: This is the first thing that I’ve written for Whiskey, so hopefully he’s not too out of character. I love that we’ve all collectively agreed to flip canon the bird and make him absolute husband material though. Here is the instrumental that I listened to while I wrote.

Masterlist

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“Darlin’, I know I’m the last person on this earth you wanna hear from… I don’t know. I guess I just needed to hear your voice. You don’t have to call me back, sugar. I understand… I won’t call again.”

You’ve been sitting on the end of your couch for a few hours now, listening to that voicemail over and over again. There’s a glass of Jim Beam in your hand, the second or third of the night—you haven’t been paying attention. You hate the taste and the way it burns on the way down, but you can’t drink Jack Daniels anymore without thinking of him.

It’s been almost a year and a half since you left Jack. You loved him, you still do, but being with him was killing you. You’d always known that what he did for a living was dangerous, but it wasn’t until you were finally cleared by Statesmen that you truly understood the risks that Jack took every time he walked out the door. You couldn’t take it anymore. Every time he left the house you would feel nothing but endless worry until he came home. There were close calls. Sometimes he would come home so beat up and bruised that he could hardly stand to be touched. And though he’d never admit it, you knew that there were parts of the job that taxed him mentally as well.

Last night must have been one of those nights. He’d called in the middle of the night. You hadn’t listened to his voicemail until this morning. It’s all you’ve thought about all day.

The sound of his lilting southern accent sounding so broken and desperate, it’s enough to break your heart a thousand times over. And with the light slur that accompanies his words, you guess that he’d gotten himself good and drunk too.

You sigh and pick up the phone again, a crushing weight sitting on your chest as you continue to debate calling him back. You don’t want him to suffer alone, but you know that calling him will be the opening of a door that you closed and locked when you left him. Part of you wants to be able to see Jack again, to let him hold you in his arms the way he used to. You’ve never met another man like him, never met someone who made you feel so safe and loved and cherished the way a woman was supposed to be. It’s a shame that his job came between you. You would have married Jack Daniels if he ever asked.

That though leaves you with tears burning at your eyes, the life that the two of you could have had together. Jack always struck you as the settling down type, and you certainly didn’t have anything against spending the rest of your life by his side. The first tear makes its way down your cheek as you foolishly allow yourself to envision it all.

You’re ready to dial his number when you hear a knock at the door.

The sudden noise brings you out of your emotional state, immediately sobering you up as you try and think who could possibly be at your door this late at night. You put the glass down on the coffee table, slowly rising from the couch. All the while your gaze is fixed on the door, waiting for another knock or for someone to speak. Your heart begins to pound in your chest. You grab the baseball bat you keep in the foyer for times like this. Living alone, one can never be too careful.

With the bat gripped in your left hand, you slowly make your way to the door. Your hand trembles slightly as you remove the chain and unlock the deadbolt, and you have to take a deep breath before you can bring yourself to turn the knob. You open up just enough to peek through the crack.

The bat goes clattering to the floor when you see who it is.

You swing the door all the way open, leaving you face to face with him.

“Jack?...,” you breathe, hardly able to believe that he’s standing in front of you.

“Hey there, darlin’. You weren’t gonna take my head off with that baseball bat were you?,” he quips, but his voice is quiet and strained, not at all oozing the confidence and charm that you were used to.

You let out a sigh, trying to rid yourself of the tension that had mounted before. “I mean, I don’t usually get visitors, especially not in the middle of the night,” you reply, though not at all in a chiding manner.

“I didn’t wake you did I?,” he asks.

You shake your head. “No. But Jack, honey, what are you doing here?” The pet name escapes your lips before you can even think about it.

You watch as the whites of his eyes turn red. He’s absolutely silent.

You frown, knowing that it’s taking every fiber of his will to keep himself together. Tears and shame well up in his eyes as he faces you. You know he’s aware of the line he’s crossed by coming to you in this state, but right now you feel nothing but worry for the man standing before you. It takes you back to the nights that he would come home to you, still sporting some of the Statesmen tactical gear because he had to get to you as soon as he could. Those were the nights you’d held him until the break of dawn, reassuring him that everything was going to be alright. Those were the nights you watched Agent Whiskey break Jack Daniels, and you know that’s what you’re about to witness now.

You step back, gesturing for him to come inside with you. You close the door behind him, turning around as he hangs the Stetson on your coat rack. He stands with his head hung slightly, clearly not sure where to go from here.

“Come here, Jack,” you murmur. He’s got his arms around you before you can even fully open yours as an invitation, nearly crushing you against his chest and burying his face in your shoulder. Your arms are around his neck, and you gently card your fingers through his hair. Your chest swells as you feel him beginning to shake.

“Shhhh. Honey, I’m right here. You’re okay,” you whisper, trying your best to soothe him with words. You already know from experience that it won’t do much good.

“I’m so sorry, angel. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be doing this to you. It’s not fair. It’s not right,” his words are desperate and rushed, almost panicked.

You shake your head. “No, Jack. It’s alright. I would never, ever turn you away,” you assure him. “But I need you to tell me what happened. I can’t help you until I know what’s going on.”

You feel him take a deep breath, steading himself before he tries to speak again. He separates himself from you now, looking back down into your eyes, but he never releases his hold on you completely.

“It was a solo mission. Champ and I both agreed I could get the job done just fine on my own. But there were more of ‘em there than we thought. I took care of it, but…” He can’t bring himself to say the words, but instead turns his head to show you a wound on his temple. You immediately know that it’s a graze from a bullet, and the sight of it makes your stomach churn. He’d been alone. There would have been no one there to save him if he’d been hit. You knew about the Aquagel that Ginger Ale used to bring the Statesmen back from injuries like that, but it wouldn’t have been any good to Jack then.

You find panic rising in your chest at the thought, cutting off your breathing as you wonder if you ever would have found out what happened to him. Would you have just carried on with your life with no idea that he was gone?

“And...I know that’s why you left, darlin’. But I just couldn’t stomach the thought that I could have been dead and gone without ever seeing you again,” he whispers, closing his eyes and hanging his head again. He’s right. Your fear had driven a wedge between you, and yet you find that you’re glad that he came to you. Maybe you were wrong to give up on him the way that you did.

You gently take his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing lightly over his cheekbones. You feel him lean into one of your palms and he pulls you close to him again, resting his forehead against yours. His nose is just barely touching yours. Before you can stop yourself, you lean in closer, eliminating the last inch or two between you.

As your lips meet his, something inside Jack finally breaks, and salt mixes with the taste of him that you had nearly forgotten. He keeps one arm wrapped strong and tight around your waist, but then his free hand tangles with your hair, an attempt to bring you impossibly closer than you already are. You feel his trembling breaths against your lips, and you wonder how the hell you ever let yourself leave this man.

“I love you, Jack,” you tell him, opening your eyes to look at him again. Your words cause him to do the same, and he seems shocked as he looks down at you. Suddenly he’s separating himself from you, and you worry that you’ve upset him even more. He puts his hands on your hips, never losing eye contact with you, and slowly begins to lower himself to his knees. You quickly grab him by the forearms, trying to keep him on his feet, but you don’t have the strength to hold him up. “What are you doing?,” you ask desperately, confused and scared that there’s something wrong with him.

“Darlin’, I need you to come home. I’ll work something out with Champ so I can be home more and you won’t have to worry so much. But baby please… I can’t do this anymore, not without you...,”

He’s on his knees.

Begging.

You bring your hand up to stifle the cries that escape your lips. You love this man so much that it’s breaking you to see him this way, to know that you are the one that did this to him.

You sink to your knees in front of him, putting both hands on his shoulders as a way to keep yourself balanced. You nod. “Yes, Jack,” you breathe.

And then he smiles, really smiles, for the first time since you opened the door, and takes you back into his arms. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, slowly drying your tears as you savor the closeness of the man you love and the reality that you’re not going to live another day without him by your side.

“God, I love you so much, darlin’,” he says.

“I love you too,” you reply, finally smiling yourself.

You stay right there for a long while, each finding peace in the presence of the other. Until a soft yawn escapes your lips, reminding you just how late it is.

“Let’s go to bed,” you whisper, forcing yourself to sit upright again.

Jack nods in agreement, brushing your hair back behind your ear. He moves to stand, taking ahold of your arms and bringing you to your feet with him, but then he sweeps you off of them again, carrying you bridal style down the hall. You can’t help but giggle, but then again you’re not surprised. This isn’t the first time he’s done it and you know that it won't be the last.

With the bathroom being the only other room in your apartment, it doesn’t take him long to find your bedroom. Jack steps into the room, gently kicking the door shut behind him. After carefully laying you down, he sheds his jacket and lets it fall to the floor, and it’s soon joined by his boots, socks, and jeans. While he undresses, you curl up under the thin comforter, your smile brightening as he finally joins you. He reaches over to turn off the bedside lamp, but then settles down beside you.

Jack holds you close to him, letting you rest with your head on his chest. You feel his warm lips press lightly to the crown of your head. You hum softly in content, closing your eyes and letting his heartbeat begin to lull you to sleep. “I love you, Jack,” you murmur in the dark.

“I love you too, darlin’,” he says, squeezing you gently.

It’s not long before you hear light snores emanating from his lips, and you know that means that he’ll be out for a while. You follow him in sleep soon after, finding better rest now that you’re back in his arms.

You’ll never let him go again.

---

Tags: @theforceofdisney​ @aerynwrites​ @hail-doodles​ @murdermewithbooks​ @swimmingbyrd​ @themandjalorian​ @longitud-de-onda​

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

A Fitting Finale: Bringing Ian Full-Circle

Is everyone sick of my essays yet? Excellent. Here’s another anyway!

I’ve been trying to put my finger on what it is about Ian’s story in s11 that I love so much. It’s clear that he’s struggling on a number of levels, and he’s certainly spent the first third of the season under so much stress that it’s impacted his moods and marriage. In 11x04, we began to see hints of the tension breaking, and it made me realize that there’s a common trend in Ian’s behavior throughout the series coming to a head in his final act. It’s part of what has him so passionately advocating for Mickey to get a legal job, communicating their need to hammer out the specifics of what their marriage means, and upset at his own employment status.

From start to finish, Ian has been driven by two important motivators: love and fear.

Ian’s deep sense of love and compassion for others is well documented. We know that he will do anything for his family. I’ve mentioned before that Ian is at his best when he’s with them and his worst when he’s not. They’re his support system, and he’s a key part of theirs. They look after each other and rely on one another when the chips are down. They’re all grown up now, Liam being the exception, but those bonds are strong. They’ve matured and branched out to include Mickey, Tami, Franny, and Freddie. Ian’s heart belongs to his family, and he’s given as much of himself as he can to the people he’s been with over the years in whatever capacity they’ve needed him to.

Ian has also always been a fearful character, though not in the manner we typically visualize. He’s strong and motivated, ambitious and sensible, clever and insightful. When he decides that he wants something, he goes for it, from a South Side thug hovering in his orbit to pursuing the highest military accolades despite his small beginnings. Over and over again, we’ve seen him leap into serious and often strange situations in order to achieve his ends or something for the people he cares about. This man stole a water heater from a dead person’s house with his brother and tried to help his best friend hide a body. Certainly, he doesn’t fit the traditional stereotype. He’s not a coward.

But Ian is terrified—of everything:

·        Not amounting to anything

·        Not being worthy of love

·        Being the center of attention

·        Fading into the background and being forgotten

·        Not being able to help other people or those he loves

·        Not having a path

·        Not being in control of himself

·        Not being enough

He’s never said it. He’s never discussed these issues, except perhaps not having control. That isn’t who he is. That’s never been his way. Maybe we should add fear of communicating too, or fear of being seen as weak.

In s1, Ian makes a lot of brave choices. He comes out to three people, two of them family members, knowing how that is viewed in their neighborhood. When Mickey is after him, Ian takes the battle to his doorstep. He turns his back on an arguably easier life in a nice, middle-class neighborhood and a home with a father who would provide for him to live in the constant struggle to which he has grown accustomed. On the surface, he’s one put together kid. But then there’s Kash. There’s this man who preys on him, a middle child so responsible (and so male) that no one thinks he’d fall into any sort of trap—and Ian is desperate to keep him. He fights Lip over it and so painfully tries to make him understand his perspective, that he’s spending money he should probably be using for things he needs to buy Kash music and baseball tickets, to make him like what Ian does so that they can build their so-called relationship. That Kash is married with kids is unimportant to him; that he’s exploiting Ian’s fear of loneliness and not finding love outside his siblings, unthinkable. We know it. Lip sees it, powerless as he feels to do anything about it. Ian can’t. To date, he never will. He’s blinded by a culture that doesn’t believe such things can happen to males, and until Mickey comes along as a viable outlet for his affections and source of the ones he needs, he’s too afraid to be cautious.

Throughout s2 and s3, Ian makes difficult decisions. They’re not always smart, but it takes great strength to commit to the choices he makes: allowing Monica into his life, voicing even an ounce of his feelings to Mickey, pursuing West Point, and running away. All of them, however, are driven by love and fear alike. He’s vulnerable and needs his mother, the one who slaps Frank for shoving him and listens when he feels alone. She assuages his fears by telling him what he needs to hear: that he can do and be anything. We know there’s a danger in that, especially when she takes him to enlist when he’s nowhere near old enough, but it’s still validating for him. It feeds that need for attention but not too much attention, for understanding but not coddling, for love that originates from someone who isn’t his siblings. We see similar trends emerge: fear of losing Mickey on multiple occasions, fear that he’ll forever be in Lip’s shadow when he receives a letter of recommendation instead of Ian, and fear of never having Mickey’s full affections spiraling into fear of facing his own emotions in the aftermath of the wedding. We’ve seen that Ian runs from what he can’t process. He runs from what he can’t handle. He runs when he’s scared, especially of himself.

It continues repeatedly throughout the series. In s4, Ian is afraid of going backwards and once again losing his position in Mickey’s life. In s5, he’s afraid of being a burden on everyone around him, changing them, and losing control of his own mind. In s6, he’s afraid that this is it: his path and his goals have come to nothing, and he’s doomed to fall into the shadows where no one will ever see or love him. In s7, that fear of himself re-emerges when a patient is hurt on his watch and he has to come to terms with the fact that being better doesn’t mean he’s “cured.” In s8, he’s afraid of the void where Monica and Mickey used to be, and it sends him spiraling into a deeper one he doesn’t fear until it’s too late. In s9, he fears a lack of guidance, an indecisiveness born of having been able to rely on his hallucinations to tell him what to do. His path is gone, and he has no options. And that’s terrifying. Then Mickey is there, and he can put some of his fears to rest until they resurge with the idea of marriage in s10. All of a sudden, he’s back where he was in s5, fearing himself but also what he’ll do to someone he loves.

In s11, we’re seeing an Ian far more like he was in earlier seasons: rigidly devoted to having a plan, knowing what’s coming next, and ticking off certain boxes on the list of things you’re “supposed to do” as a married adult male. He’s spent a lot of this season seeking value in his employment and position in their marriage, and the stress has been dragging him down—quickly.

And it’s no wonder: he has every reason to be scared right now.

The thing about prison is that it is what’s known as a total institution. It is removed from society and, as such, operates under its own social beliefs, values, and norms. Like the military, another total institution, prison involves an initial period of sloughing off roles and identities from the greater society and subsequently being resocialized into a new role set. Upon release, a person undergoes the same process in reverse, and there’s an adjustment period to reintegrate into normal society. We can see that process begin when Ian gets in the car with Lip and shudders a bit, unsettled at the prospect of being outside these walls for the first time in months—going home far earlier than anticipated. For many people, it’s a difficult transformation, especially once they realize the full extent of how your life changes as an ex-convict in the U.S.

Ian doesn’t really get to adjust. From s8 to the start of s11, he undergoes a whirlwind of emotion and change. He literally loses touch with reality, starts a cult, commits a felony, is on the run from law enforcement, allows himself to be captured with one final display, goes to jail, remains unmedicated until he’s bailed out, panics at what his movement became, feels alone in the house as everyone deals with their own business and leaves him to his own devices, seeks guidance from above only to realize it wasn’t what he thought it was, can’t find answers, has warring factions telling him how to plead in court, ostensibly takes a plea deal that requires some amount of time behind bars, goes to prison, finds the love of his life there waiting for him, has to let his sister go, is released without Mickey, gets repeatedly screwed over by a corrupt PO, gets engaged, breaks up (sort of), gets engaged again, sees his wedding venue burned down, gets married, and hurtles straight into a pandemic. That’s… That’s a lot. Being a newlywed in a pandemic is a lot without all the rest of it, but this is what Ian is dealing with going into s11, and he hasn’t had the benefit of a stable readjustment and reintegration period.

He’s drowning.

He’s scared.

He has every reason to be. Marriage is scary, especially if you are so young and so in love with the person you’re marrying. Employment is scary, especially for them, because it could mean the difference between paying the utilities and running out of water. Change in general is scary, especially when it hasn’t done you any favors before.

Add all that to what Ian’s behavior has indicated that he’s been afraid of since the start, and you have a recipe for disaster.

To a great extent, that’s what I think his arc is all about this season: learning how to live again. It’s about not being so afraid of himself that he desperately grasps for any stereotypical structure for married life that he can. It’s about regaining the confidence that has always left him clawing his way to the top instead of letting life beat him down. It’s about finding the happy medium where he and Mickey aren’t doing anything illegal but aren’t stuck in a valueless spiral, scrambling and struggling to pay the bills like when they were kids.

It’s about learning not to be so afraid anymore, and I think that’s a beautiful goodbye for a beautiful character.