#Redux explained

[strangeaxel]

Omg selfcest with yourself from another reality!!!!1!2! (I've never shipped selfcest this is the first time....my life's going to weird directions)

Note: Idk what's the name of the ship so if y'all have it let me now. I've seen in a tumblr account that is called "postal 12" but idk!! So let me know.

[mecha--maniac]

Y'ever think about the Metal Sonic dialogue in Sonic Heroes and how he says stuff like 'See me as I am, no longer afraid of anything!'

So like,,, Metal was afraid before?? Presumably of either a lot of stuff or of Sonic/his friends, which would be reasonable given how often he's been destroyed by them.

[emberglowfox]

hi can you please tell me about those two brainfused characters from the art that used "In Two" lyrics? Your ocs seem v interesting i am Intrigued

omg hiiii thank you

yes so the two characters in the in two drawing are arthur and zarian, the protagonists of my oc story, steelheart! arthur is a human, while zarian is a (conscious, autonomous) futuristic robot called a DRACO, specifically a v1 model.

i touched on it vaguely in this post, but more specifically the deal with DRACOs is this: they're supposed to be mind-controlled jet-motorcycles (that happen to look like dragons, because why not). they interface with the brain of their pilot via an implant attached to the spinal cord, which also serves as a storage compartment that the DRACO can de-materialize into for transport and charging/refueling (how? idk. sci fi future tech hand waving.) the implants look vaguely like this:

the main takeaway of this is that the DRACOs are 1) permanently connected to their pilot and 2) have like. direct access to the pilot's brain

now these things were not made with the whole 'the robots end up being self-aware and conscious' thing in mind, so being connected to an Awake one is... VERY weird. while DRACOs and pilots can't read each other's thoughts, exactly, they can communicate mentally, either by 'speaking' (like. thinking very clearly and distinctly, kind of) or just pushing abstract thoughts and emotions at each other. they're also very in tune with each other, like vaguely aware of where the other is at all times like you would be a limb, unconsciously mirroring each other, etc. aware DRACOs also 'borrow' senses that they don't have from their pilot (as in feel what the pilot feels), such as taste/smell, or sight and hearing when they're de-materialized.

so... not brainfused in the sense that two beings are now ones, but more like two beings semi-sharing a brain and even a body at times.

arthur and zarian get linked (as in, arthur gets the spinal implant) COMPLETELY by accident and have to contend with all this rather abruptly. as you can imagine, suddenly sharing your brain with a stranger (especially one who you thought was/is trying to kill you, and/or maybe possess you, because giant evil vampire robot) doesn't go over great.

but it works out, and they end up weird clingy besties! they're kind of like an opposites-attract situation where they bring out their own traits in the other. zarian is very snarky and a bit defensive, which brings out arthur's more sarcastic side and encourages him to stand up for himself. arthur, meanwhile, is a bit more emotional and playful, and helps zarian learn how to have fun and connect with others.

they're losers and they're my favorite guys ever. it's great

[theokusgallery]

Do you actually have an 3k word essay on how you hate Patton’s moral code? It’s been a while since the art that said anything about this, however that sounds extremely interesting to read and I’ve been wanting to ask for a while now but simply didn’t. It might’ve been a joke or exaggeration but I may as well try?

It's actually 3.5k words and it's basically just me explaining SvS(+ Redux) and having parasocial beef with Patton and Roman (especially Patton but I am very mean to Roman throughout the whole thing lol). It's not all about hating Patton's moral code, but there's a big emphasis on it, especially towards the end? I'd want to change a few things about it before letting other people see it again, though. I wrote it right as I watched those two episodes for the first time in december last year and obviously I hadn't seen many other thoughts on those before writing it. There's just... stuff about the writing I haven't seen being brought up very much that bugged me. Like... how that the definition of pity is literally just "empathy for bad feelings"? And therefore that there's a reason Nietzsche calls it that?? "What he calls pity, I call empathy, and empathy is good" My brother in Christ you are allowed to disagree with the philosopher, this isn't an exact science, rephrasing it like this is just making me realise you either have no idea what you're talking about, haven't thought about it enough, or are just trying to make yourself look better

[phosphoresccent]

currently enjoying writing xephos as the clingiest soggiest guy when he's sick, because he's only like that because he trusts honeydew/lalna So Much!!! otherwise he would slink off into the woods and die in a cave like a dog, or run around like everything was fine right up until he died.

[danthropologie]

in terms of starting grid position, daniel is closer to checo than checo is to max 😈

and even more insane when you consider the fact that daniel is literally driving a clown car with three wheels, meanwhile checo JUST went on record yesterday reassuring the media that his car is exactly the same as max's and no funny business is going on 😭

[transienturl]

I suppose that in theory I would save some time by standing behind my dad and doing miniature javascript lessons over his shoulder whenever they came up instead of occasionally going through and pointing out 15 things at once, a process which inevitably takes like 4 hours.

Obviously, that math only works if we're talking about saving him time, since an occasional ~4 hours for me is way less time than [amount of time he has spent on his class project, which in this hypothetical I would have to spend being in the vague vicinity of his desk], but.

[elbiotipo]

It's so funny when people say "not all AI sucks! only generative AI!" because generative AI is genuinely an amazing technology.

You know why those early AI images like crayon and such were so strange and dreamlike? It's because generative algorithms actually do generate those images. They don't copypaste like a collage, images are created pixel-by-pixel. Generative AIs are actually systems that assimilate concepts, associate them to images, are able to translate instructions in plain human text instead of code and create new things from it (this was seen as pure science fiction less than 5 years ago). This is why AI images now have better quality, because new models are able to understand more concepts and implement them. Because the idea with generative AI isn't and shouldn't for it to be able to just copy-paste images or text, it's the ability to generate new images or text from learned concepts.

This post gets, in a very easy, understandable way, into the details on how this works. And I hope you do give it a read no matter your stand on this:

This, as I always say, was considered pure science fiction, a thing that would not exist until at least the 2100s if at all, and it is now here. And not only by corporations, but open-source models are being researched by the minute.

No, I do not care for AI corporations and I don't care for what they're mostly trying to use AI for (advertising and customer service). I care about what can become of this technology. Advertising and mass produced shit will be shit, no matter if it's done by human or AI. Do I expect an advertisement to be shit because it uses AI? No, I expect it to be shit because it is an advertisement.

What will be interesting, and I think we will see more in the future when the utterly poisoned current discourse about AI calms down, will be when artists with interesting concepts and a good handle of these tools start to create new things, much like synthesizers or photographers didn't ruin music or art, because there was always an artist behind the tool in the first place. Someone is doing those prompts to create something. Your question should be who and why.

[coquelicoq]

there's something about cql ep 50. what doesn't she have? xiyao breakup which is somehow worse than both the nieyao breakup (og) AND the nieyao breakup (redux). slomo pining courtyard gazes. breaking: entire affect of devastated, traumatized boy transforms to pure joy at sound of dog barking. a fun game of poke the wound on the zongzhu. didn't you have something to say to wei wuxian? JIANG CHENG IN THE RAIN FLASHBACK THAT RECONTEXTUALIZES LITERALLY EVERYTHING THAT CAME BEFORE EVEN THE THINGS UNRELATED TO JIANG CHENG BECAUSE OF WHAT IT MEANS ABOUT HOW THE STORY WAS BEING TOLD ALL ALONG. single tear smile take care. lan wangji give wei wuxian some news challenge (easy mode: it's really good news): FAILED. wei wuxian annoyed at the arrival of perennial interrupters wen ning and lan sizhui, and then how he tries to crash their journey of self-discovery and they're like um, we're good actually. sizhui lovingly telling wei wuxian his cooking is so bad it blasted the self-protective memory loss right out of him. wei wuxian touching sizhui's headband. threatening to bury a teenager in the dirt: the love language. wang yibo so good at doing stuff with his face it actually makes me wonder if there is a god who must have spent a little more time on wang yibo or what else could possibly explain it. nonsensical scene ordering. lan wangji breaks my fucking heart reveal (still haven't forgiven him for the way wei wuxian's face falls when he figures out lan wangji isn't coming with him). but before you abandon me for a bunch of paperwork you are not at all suited to be doing how about we go back to your place and perform some romantic duets for a waterfall. as one does. nie huaisang loitering by the lan sect discipline wall waiting for someone to come along he can joke about being evil with. me when im playing our love song on what is by far the loveliest cliff out of all the wangxian significant cliffs and i hear u say my name behind me: MOST BEAUTIFUL INCANDESCENT LIFE-CHANGING XIAO ZHAN SMILE OF ALL TIME DOT JPEG.

[armoredsuperheavy]

The Complete Raffles, Annotated (Rebind)

Who is Raffles?

Written by E. W. Hornung, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's brother-in-law, dedicated to ACD, and inspired by the Sherlock Holmes stories, but starring A.J. Raffles, a gentleman of leisure and recreational crime rather than a detective. Accompanied by his admiring friend and narrator, nicknamed "Bunny", mischief is afoot.

It's very shippable, and if you have an interest in historical fiction, Edwardian London, or are a Holmes/Watson fan, you owe it to yourself to check it out.

The Annotated Version

I originally found the annotated stories on the Raffles Redux website and was struck how complete and informative the annotations assembled by Sarah Morrissey and Genevieve L. Morrissey were. In addition to explaining many obscure things the modern reader would otherwise have completely missed, they also collected profuse illustrations from past editions.

I was dismayed that this great addition to the original, public domain Raffles tales was only available (at the time) in this ephemeral form. My reading was greatly enhanced by all these insights into the period and places of the stories. When I recently discovered it was available in an Amazon print on demand edition I immediately bought it.

What a bittersweet experience it was to have the text! Yes! YES! The text is out! In a nice big block with breathing room for the annotations and a handsome typeset at that! What a thoughtful design, but what else should I have expected, considering how well done the annotations were?!

But what was bitter, you ask? Well, that cheap thin cardstock cover, which immediately curled up like Hokusai's Great Wave after I perused 3 pages of the first story. This was infuriating. This book deserves so much better. But! We have the means of production. I couldn't do anything about the "perfect-bound" spine, but i could definitely fix this woefully inadequate cover.

Views of the text, annotations, illustrations.

Let's Rectify This Injustice

I sliced the covers off and removed as much paper from the spine as possible. Scrounged out a moderately "old timey" sheet big enough for endpapers, cut and attached them. Glued mull and an Oxford hollow type kraft paper tube on this bad boy. And then built a case, using the remainder of the endpapers sheet to stretch the book cloth supply.

Then, fortuitously, from the discarded flimsy cover, I was able to salvage the JC Leyendecker portrait of Raffles. This piece was originally done for Collier's magazine, and oozing "late Edwardian cruising". Brother can you spare a light? JCL was a magician.

A sleep overnight in the press and now the complete annotated Raffles (x Bunny of course) finally has the proper treatment, complete with that exquisite side eye right where it deserves to be.

I am Back (ElmoFire.gif)

This is my first finished book project in 4 years. It felt great to get back into it.

I'm finishing up a number of Dead Dove Publishing projects that were partially done when I ground to a halt in summer of 2020. Wish me luck and stay tuned for more...

ArmoredSuperHeavy, 25 Dec 2024

Fanbinding project #162

[baronessblixen]

Asking For Miracles

Merry Christmas, @katebeckets! I'm your PoangPal Secret Santa, and as I am mostly a writer, you're getting a fic 😁 You said you were enraged that we didn't get to see Mulder and Scully reunite at the end of "Redux II" (same, btw). So I wrote a scene where Scully tells him that she's in remission. It's angsty - but of course, it has a happy end. I hope you like it!

(Here's the AO3 Link)

@poangsecretsanta @today-in-fic

“Mulder, I know it’s late, but I- I need to see you.”

The words Scully left on his answering machine still ring in his ears, even half an hour after he first heard them. By the time Mulder arrives at the hospital, his legs are like lead and feel as if he’s just finished a marathon. Every step he takes is pure agony; if only he could turn around and run. That, of course, is not an option. Not when Scully asked for him. 

Mulder enters the hospital lobby, the place as familiar as his own home by now. He nods at Jeff, the doorman, and he nods back at him. Maybe he recognizes Mulder, or he has compassion for every sad soul that passes by.

He stops in front of the elevator, his fingers fidgeting with the lapels of his jacket. An elderly woman standing next to him eyes him wearily when he presses the elevator button twice more. He’s grateful she’s not making conversation as they step inside. His thoughts are loud, screaming at him. They have been ever since Scully’s phone call - another one he missed. The sound of her suppressed tears is too familiar; it already haunts his nightmares.

It’s late. The hospital is deserted – save for the elderly woman, who’s clinging to her purse, staying with him on the elevator until they reach the oncology ward. They share a silent look, pain evident in their movements as they set out in opposite directions. 

A phone call late at night is never good news. Scully must have called him just after 9 p.m. He grabbed his jacket as soon as he heard it, not even caring if it – or he – smelled bad. Scully is all that matters. 

Yet, now that he’s here, he slows down. The closer he gets to her room, the smaller and heavier his steps become. As long as he’s out here, and as long as he hasn’t looked into her eyes, and heard what she has to say, he can pretend. He can pretend the disease isn’t taking her life, cutting it way too short.

He passes room after room, getting closer to the truth. For once, Mulder doesn’t want it. He wants the miracle, the fantasy. From somewhere he hears music. Or maybe that’s just his imagination. It’s an older song, melancholic. A woman singing about wishing she had a river she could skate away on. Mulder thinks it’s a Christmas song. Who plays Christmas music in the middle of the year? He considers telling Scully about it, hoping it will make her smile. 

It’s no surprise that he hates hospitals. He’s hated them long before Scully got sick, but not always. The first time he remembers being in one was when he was a toddler, just about three years old. On his first visit, he was apprehensive. He knew the concept of hospitals from books; big, white rooms with doctors looking like angels, sometimes healing, sometimes taking people to heaven. That’s how his grandmother Mulder had described it to him when he’d asked. 

The angels, his grandmother had explained, too, had taken good care of his mother and his sister. As a new big brother, he had to know these things. It was his time to be brave. Just like now, he thinks, as his shoes squeak against the linoleum. Back then, his much smaller feet had shuffled along, trying to keep up with his father, who was holding his hand in his large, steady grip. Before that day, Mulder can’t remember his father ever holding his hand.

The room Mulder remembers is filled with a sunny warmth, despite it being November. What are the chances of it having been a sunny day? But that’s how he remembers it. Just like he remembers the soft smile on his mother’s face and the way he had to stand on tiptoe to see Samantha and her squishy face. Seeing her cemented his fate; he was a big brother and he would look after her forever. Only that forever had been taken away from them. Much like last night when he lost her again. No matter what he does, he keeps losing.

The memory ends there. In the following years, hospital walls became tainted. There was blood and screaming. Samantha broke her collarbone and Mulder broke his arm. His grandmother died; the angels she’d believed in taking her away. The memories are strung together like a pearl necklace in his mind; one painful memory after another. An endless circle. Now, there is another memory to add.

He stops in front of Scully’s hospital room. All is quiet. The music has stopped. His heart, however, hasn’t. It’s thumping steadily, loudly. So loud in fact that he wonders if Scully can hear it through the closed door. He closes his eyes and knocks.

“Come in,” Scully’s muffled voice says and so, finally, he does. His eyes find hers the second he steps inside. Her face is puffy - puffier than he’s seen it in weeks. The hollowness for once hidden. How many tears has she cried without him here? She throws him a small, shaky smile. A laugh falls from her lips that sounds more like a hiccup.

“I came as quickly as I could,” Mulder says, flinching when he realizes that’s a lie. He may have driven to the hospital as fast as he could, but he took his time arriving. 

“I thought you should hear it first,” she says, sniffing. She grabs a tissue out of a half-empty box and blows her nose. “This is ridiculous,” she adds, avoiding his eyes. “I just- I called you first when I- and you… you were the first person I wanted to call when I found out.”

Blood rushes in his ears, his temples throb; this is the last moment before he knows. Once she says it - once the words are out there - they can’t be taken back. It will be real.

“They did more tests. I- the last PET scan showed no improvement and I-,” she trails off and Mulder’s knees buckle. No improvement. There’s no cure for this cancer, just like Scully said months ago when she asked him to come to the hospital for the first time. No cure, no improvement. There’s only one way this can end. He wants to cover his ears; it can’t be true if he doesn’t hear it, or see it. 

“I wasn’t ready to accept that,” she goes on, her voice steady. She glances at him as if waiting for him to say something. It’s not like him to remain quiet, but what is there to say? He wants to get on his knees and pray to a God he doesn’t believe in. “So I asked for more tests. When you’re dying, doctors will do whatever you ask of them.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that,” Mulder mumbles and Scully cracks a smile.

“We did another PET scan, among other things, and Mulder- I don’t know why is this so difficult to say.” Another hollow laugh from her and he can no longer keep his hurt in. It expels from his mouth as his lips begin to quiver. Scully’s eyes open wide.

“Oh, Mulder,” she says, reaching out her hand and he’s too weak to deny her, to deny himself. Her skin is as soft as ever, her touch as assuring as it’s always been. He’s crying openly now, weeping. The tears are blurring his vision, but he sees what’s important: her in the hospital bed, smiling up at him.

“You shouldn’t have to comfort me,” he says with a sob, trying to compose himself. He thinks of his father, of the way he watched him dismissively the night his grandmother died. When Mulder, at ten years old, had wiped his tears away with the sleeve of this sweater, he had asked his father why he wasn’t crying. Wasn’t he sad? His father hadn’t replied and only stared at him before he’d wandered off.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Mulder,” she says, tugging at his hand. “Sit down.” When he doesn’t, she tugs more strongly. “Sit. Please.” He does, his hands folded in his lap as if waiting to start a prayer.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she says softly.

“You’re a mind reader now?”

“I don’t have to be. I should have started with the most important news,” she says, waiting. He knows she wants him to look at her. He braces himself before he lifts his eyes to hers. Hers are brimming with tears, just like his own.

“My cancer has gone into remission.”

Mulder stares at her, not understanding. These are the words he wants to hear. Remission. Cured. Yet, he can’t believe them.

“You believe everything but not this?” she teases, her voice shaky.

“You’re- and the cancer? It’s- it’s.” He doesn’t know what to say. How do you describe a miracle? It just is.

“Like I’ve been trying to say, I couldn’t accept that there was no improvement. My mother… my mother and I prayed together and then I knew I couldn’t give up. I asked for another PET scan and more blood tests. Mulder, I don’t know what… something changed. Whatever it is, whether it’s the chip or, or-”

“You’re in remission,” he repeats, his brain finally catching up. She nods.

“I’m in remission. The PET scan shows great improvement. The tumor is shrinking.”

“I can’t- it’s shrinking? You’ll be fine?” He reaches for her other hand, needing to feel her. Again, she nods, smiling.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispers. Mulder stares at her, watches her, and sees his whole future. Their future. Together. His lips quiver again, but this time from joy. Scully nods, understanding him without a single word spoken.

“Come here,” he says, desperate. He lets go of her hands and engulfs her in his arms. Their positions on the bed are awkward, but they make it work. His heart thumps against her chest, and he feels hers, too. He doesn’t care if it was the chip or a miracle. For once, he doesn’t care about uncovering a secret truth. He just wants to hold her in his arms and have her by his side for as long as she wants to be.

“Will you stay?” she asks into his neck. Her lips are warm and wet and her touch brings him back into the here and now.

“I’ll stay,” he says. He’ll stay as long as she will endure him in her hospital room.

“I need to call my family,” she whispers and he loosens his grip on her. Her face is as wet as his own feels and he wipes at her eyes with his thumb. Her blue eyes are almost translucent and he’s in fear of losing himself in them. Instead, he finds himself nodding along, reaching for the cell phone on her bedside table and handing it to her.

“Tell them right away,” Mulder says. “Say you have good news.” He smiles sheepishly. She doesn’t need to know about what he’s gone through in between her call and her breaking the news to him. Still, he’d like Mrs. Scully and Bill Jr. to know what they’re in for so they won’t have to worry anymore. There’s been too much heartbreak already. Scully nods at him, new tears falling from her eyes.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Mulder muses and Scully’s eyebrows knit together.

“It’s not Christmas,” she says with a chuckle and he takes her hand into his, entwining their fingers. She lets him. He marvels at their laced hands, remembering the song from earlier. He hopes the woman found a river to skate away on. He hopes she found her happiness somewhere along the way. Or maybe what she was looking for was right in front of her eyes the whole time. He knows what’s that like. 

Mulder lifts his head and grins at her, falling deeper in love with her, allowing himself the full force of his emotions for once. The skepticism in her expression lets him know that she’s about to call him crazy. Or she would if this weren’t the exact moment her mother picks up the phone.

“Mom?” she says, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. Mulder squeezes her fingers to remind her he’s here with her. “I have something to tell you-…,” Scully goes on and looks at Mulder. There are so many things unspoken between them, and so many possibilities now for their future. 

“It’s good news.”

[gamerzylo]

can you explain the story of postal to me?

It varies on the game.

Postal 1 - The story is told through journal entries; Dude is getting evicted from his house and thinks there's a hate plague infecting the town (aptly called Paradise) he moved to. Chaos and destruction ensue.

Postal 2 - Different Dude; moved to a different version of Paradise with his wife known as The Bitch. Spends a week doing errands that range from picking up milk to getting Gary Coleman's autograph on his book to escaping a burning napalm factory. At the end of Friday a hate plague really does infect the town and the newspaper declares it's the apocalypse.

Postal 2: Apocalypse Weekend - Same dude from 2; wakes up Saturday in the hospital after an "unfortunate firearms accident" involving his head. His wife left him, Champ was taken by the pound, and his trailer was repo'd so his quest is to rescue Champ and get his trailer back. Along the way he has hallucinations involving Hell and Gary Coleman demons, and has to deal with things ranging from mad cow tourettes zombies to stealing a nuke from the local military base to the apocalypse...again. At the end he fights Mike J - an employee of RWS who turned into a kosher mad cow demon god and who summons flying Gary Coleman heads to act as a barrier. After that he and his dog drive away as the nuke he stole and set goes off.

Got a case of split time line next.

Postal 3 - Technically the same Dude from 2 but looks way different and has a different voice actor; ends up driving to Paradise's sister town of Catharsis where his car runs out of gas. Shenanigans involving Ron Jeremy, a rhino on meth...twice, and Randy Jones to name a few happen throughout. There's two paths - good path and insane path and three endings. The evil ending has Dude and his dog getting the chair and St. Peter sending them to hell. The neutral ending has Dude get married to Jen Walcott, win the lottery, and write a best selling book. The good ending has Dude become the US president after defeating Hugo Chávez and his invading army during the apocalypse in Catharsis; he sees a big red button and presses it, launching nukes.

Postal 2: Paradise Lost - Same Dude from 2; in this time line his car crashed right after escaping Paradise because his dog jumped out to chase after a wild animal. This left him in an 11-year coma and Postal 3 being retconned as a nightmare. When he finally comes to, he goes to find his dog. Paradise has been rebuilt and has four extreme weather zones due to nuclear fallout. A week of shenanigans ensue again ranging from find out his dog was mutated and sealed away in Hell to aiding a cult led by Gary Coleman against "the tall ones" to arguing with the Dude from Postal 3 (referred to in the game subtitles as "Alternate Dude") over who the dog belongs to while standing in Hell. Also the apocalypse happens again...again. Plus Zack Ward (Dude's actor from the movie) is in the game and ends up believing himself to be the real Dude.

Postal 4: No Regerts - Same Dude from 2 only in like his early 50s now; ends up with his trailer stolen so he walks to the city of Edensin in hopes of finding a job. Same deal - week of increasingly chaotic shenanigans, this time involving things like the Dude dressing in drag to flinging people over a wall into Mexico to waking up in a mountain cabin area with his dog missing and serious Postal 1 vibes going on. Also the apocalypse counter is now at 5.

Postal Redux - A remake of Postal 1, set in 2017 rather than 1997, while also hinting at it taking place after the first game instead of being a straight remake (mainly being that there is a skeleton in the cell Dude ends up in at the end - a skeleton that isn't there in the original game's ending). Technically has a second story through Co-Op mode where four other versions of Dude rampage and end up breaking Dude out of his cell. Then there's the mindfuck Rampage ending where Dude is standing triumphantly on a pyramid littered with several dead Dudes.

Postal Brain Damaged - Unspecified version of Dude falls asleep and has a dream in the form of a boomer shooter. A demon version of himself called Other Dude steals his tv and part of the game is spent chasing him down. There's also a giant mech controlled by Other Dude that serves as the final boss. Dude wakes up after pissing himself.

Postal Mobile - Old Java game; the Dude in this game is probably the most "normal" of the bunch. His car gets stolen and his house burned down in a GTA-esque world.

[lilydalexf]

👽 Random X-Files Fic Rec

Mulder and Scully go feed some ducks, which should not be interesting at all, but IT IS. So is Mulder telling Scully a story she already knows. That's some magic fic writing! Also check out the author's commentary about the title. Title: Not Orpheus, Not Eurydice Author: cecily_sass (@cecilysass) Summary: She suggests going to feed the ducks on the river. It surprises them both, because it isn’t a very good idea. He parks the car without hesitation. Looks over at her. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s do it.” Season 5, some time not long after Redux II and before Christmas Carol. Length: 3,728 words Classification: cancer arc, songfic Rating: Teen and up Spoilers: Redux II Favorite line: She thinks this is probably a questionable category of touching Mulder: a category that is eminently understandable when one is dying, but not easy to explain, exactly, once one is surviving again. Read the story!

[audliminal]

It's Just a Game, Right? Pt 1 Redux

Masterpost

"It's like. Crazy, y'know?" Bernard's says, voice only a little tinny through Tim’s headset. "Like, when they started posting, I was kind of unimpressed, honestly. I figured it was worth watching the channel, in case the story was interesting, but it wasn’t really worth it for the sake of the actual puzzle-solving. I mean, the first video was just, like, a slideshow of pictures with a handful of Caesar ciphers and some creepy music. That’s practically the platonic ideal of Baby’s First ARG, but now? They're using literally everything! The current drop is like. The simplest part is the spectrogram! And I think it's intentional."

"Isn't it supposed to be intentional? I thought that was like, the whole point of an ARG." Tim smiles despite himself. He can always count on Bernard to distract him from the stress of work; in all the time they’ve known each other, his boyfriend has never been without some curious new obsession, and he’s always happy to ramble in Tim’s ear, while Tim works on whatever.

Right now, Tim is halfway through the tedious process of upgrading the processors in his cowl. The layers of casing and protection alone take forever to remove properly, and the actual components he’s working with are extremely small, so he has to be very careful not to damage or lose them as he works. This means he can’t exactly listen to anything that might fully distract him, but listening to Bernard explain the new ARG taking his internet communities by storm is more than welcome.

"No I mean, like. Yeah, obviously the clues are intentional,” Bernard explains. “But like, the way the difficulty curve is increasing? I don’t think that’s just a thing of convenience, and it’s happening too quickly to feel like it’s them learning about all this stuff. Hell, early on there were all these red herrings and stuff, and basically everybody just sort of wrote them off as a cheap way to increase the difficulty. But the further we get, the more their choices seem intentional. Which doesn’t exactly match with the idea of somebody who’s dropping red herrings to confuse and pull attention away from the actual plot."

"You think they aren’t actually red herrings?"

"What if they aren’t? That would tie in with the whole ‘dig deeper’ thing. Like, if I were making it, I’d be pretty annoyed if people just looked at the immediate surface level clues and ignored everything that didn’t immediately fit together."

"Yeah, telling you to dig deeper, sure makes it sound like they want you, maybe, dig deeper." Tim chuckles, carefully pulling a filter out of place, and adjusting wires, so he can start unscrewing the first processor.

“God, it’s driving me crazy!" Bernard’s voice cracks just a bit, and Tim pauses, gripping the screwdriver tightly. Getting stuck solving a riddle is always annoying, but Bernard sounds more frustrated than he usually is about these sorts of things. Mentally he rolls back over the last few weeks, quickly realizing that they really haven’t spent much time together lately. Both his day and night job have been pretty busy lately, and he knows Bernard gets it – he may not know about his night work, but he knows Tim has a lot on his hands, but Tim also knows Bernard has a bit of a tendency to get a little too into things. It’s one of the many things they have in common; one of the reasons they work so well together.

“Literally every fucking drop,” Bernard continues, oblivious to Tim’s running thoughts. “The same exact words are hidden somewhere in one of the layers! Like it’s low-key become an Easter-egg hunt on the forum! People keep joking about sending prizes to whoever can find it first, whenever anything new drops. Nobody really seems concerned by it, though. I think they all just assumed it was another sort of Red Herring, just one that’s more thematic than actually distracting. Meanwhile I'm literally on the verge of going back to the beginning of the whole thing and solving it from scratch, because I think we're missing a lot." Tim smiles, as Bernard finishes his rant with a huff. It’s not really anything they usually do, but if Bernard is frustrated enough to go back to the beginning, it presents Tim with a bit of an opportunity. And he did finally solve the Stone case the other day, so he actually could take some time away from the nightlife right now.

“Hey, what if we tried to solve it together?” Tim asks, before Bernard can wind up again.

“What, the ARG?”

“Yeah. We haven’t exactly had much time together lately, and I love a good mystery, so why not?”

“Dude,” Bernard says, voice dropping down a register. “Babe. Are you serious? Because I really need you to tell me now if you aren’t serious because I would fucking love to walk you through SARA.”

“Is... that the name of it?”

“Yeah. Actually that’s the other thing. Nobody’s been able to figure out why the channel is named that. And I think you can agree that it would be weird to have the actual name of your channel be irrelevant.”

“How does Friday sound?”

“It’s a fuckin’ date!”

[danthropologie]

saw on reddit that dts was filming the red bull charity event yesterday…that makes it at least two weekends daniel has been around that they’ve followed red bull (they were with daniel in melbourne) 👀 - although since they didn’t include any of the brazil drama last season idk I expect anything juicy lol (but I am holding on hope they did film it and just haven’t used it…yet 😈)

three actually, cause they were also in monaco filming while he was filming that feature with lissie 👀 jury's still out if they're following him because they Know Something or just because they know the show is dead without him, but either way it's very veryyyy interesting.....

[transmutationisms]

letterboxd infinite redux system where i can leave a rating and review on someone else's letterboxd review explaining what i did and didn't like about their manner of engaging in film criticism and/or cultural commentary