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anchovies-4-dinner · 2 months ago

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How Humans Love | Y! Sunday

Sunday didn’t know why you were so taken by another when he did everything for you. But perhaps the biggest betrayal was the secret you’ve been hiding from the start of your relationship.

Warnings: Y/n is a creep, Sunday has an inferiority complex, violence between reader and Sunday (classic lover’s spat), OOC, mystery ooooooooh 👻

You were unusually chipper this evening.

Sunday was fully prepared to be squeezed ‘til the next morning, however, you breezed past his open arms and left the front door open.

It was… queer.

Plastering on a smile, he shut the door and entered the living room where you collapsed onto the sofa. The man had tried to peel your shoes off when you suddenly kicked in excitement. Sunday grabbed your ankles with a huff and forcefully stripped your feet; ignoring him was one thing, but shoes in the house? Unacceptable.

He lined them perfectly on the rack, “You’re rather happy today, did you finally get that promotion?”

“No, even better!”

Upon further prodding, you abruptly caught yourself and reminded him of dinner before practically skipping to change in your shared bedroom. Dinner went more or less the same with each of his questions getting shut down or ignored. Though frustration bubbled inside, he still remained agreeable.

He washed up. He prepared the bath. He dried your hair, dressed you, kissed you, yet you had the gall to demand he sleep on the sofa that night.

You’ve never treated him like this. Ever. In fact it was the opposite; every breath he took you worshipped, and if you did something to slight him, however small, you’d apologise profusely with gifts.

Sunday’s lip twitched as he confronted your behaviour. You simply shut the door in his face.

He blinked in utter shock. Shock melted into anger and he balled his fists, nails digging into flesh. But as quick as it came, it deflated into his default contentedness; a smile graced his cheeks and his eyes lost the edge. In spite of his reservations, Sunday was about to retreat to his new ‘bed’ when your hushed voice made him stop.

It didn’t take long for him to realise you were chatting on the phone, “… I still can’t believe it! … Oh my God, what do you even wear for a date-“

Date? All breath left his lungs. You were cheating. You were cheating. He didn’t even know you were capable of something so depraved, much less to him. This revelation weakened his legs and he found himself stumbling. The loud creak of the floorboards paused your conversation.

By the time you stepped out, he was already ‘asleep’ on the sofa.

“Have a good day at work.” Sunday leaned over with an expectant air.

You mumbled something and stepped out the door, only to be held back by an irritated cough as he wore his best endearingly annoyed expression. It always worked when he wanted something. He should've been showered with affection. Instead, your lips hesitantly hovered over his. The familiar warmth made his skin flutter and eyes slip closed in anticipation.

What he didn’t anticipate was your hasty escape. A chip of his heart lodged itself in his throat. Despite this treatment, Sunday felt like he could never get angry enough - as if something was holding him back. Was this what people called being ‘helplessly in love’?

He spent the remainder of the day restless. The house was cleaned thrice, and by the time you returned, it seemed as if the stars had migrated from the night sky to your abode. This evening played out similarly to the last, the only difference being that you retired to bed earlier.

After soaking your plate, crusted with the remnants of a sleeping pill, Sunday crept into your room and caressed your cheek to test your consciousness.

His eyes narrowed against the bright light of your phone; your password was disappointingly predictable, and he scoffed upon seeing his face plastered on your Home Screen. You even customised the widgets to have some connection to him. How could someone be so shameless…

Your contacts were rather scarce - a testament to your social life. Sunday recalled pushing you to make more friends even though it wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t know whether to feel annoyed or pleased that his efforts were in vain.

Finding the miserable homewrecker was easy. Just reading his name made his wings puff; Wonweek? What an unflattering name. It suited a dog like him.

Without thinking, he tapped Wonweek’s icon. The image made him freeze - why… does that man look exactly identical to himself? Everything from the bottom lashes to the piercings was the same.

The chats did little to ease his confusion; it had been 5 years since you’ve seen Wonweek. He recently returned for business and happened to bump into you. He asked you out. You agreed. Not once did you comment on his features.

Theories raced across his mind with each more ludicrous than the last. None were satisfying, which was why he was currently seated at a library computer the next day.

Sunday was always barred from using electronics, in fact, he didn’t even have his own phone. It never bothered him until now when he needed the internet the most.

While typing the homewrecker’s name, he received multiple looks from strangers. It got to the point where he simply couldn’t focus under all the attention. His wings folded to hide his flushed cheeks - was he doing something wrong? Was this spot reserved??

“Uhm, excuse me-“ The two girls jumped at his surprised reaction, “We were wondering if you needed any help?”

So they were employees. Sunday was about to dismiss their offer, but wasn’t it more convenient ask others? “If you don’t mind me asking, do you know anything about a person named ‘Wonweek’?”

They looked at each other and giggled in bewilderment, “Wait, is this a test? Are you teasing us Wonweek?”

… Was that man popular? Sunday decided to play along, forcing a charismatic grin that would’ve brought you to your knees. Manipulating the conversation was easy; he managed to pry information about the bachelor (even some that should’ve been private), though one stuck out like a sore thumb:

“Oh this one’s easy. You left on 13th April 2xxx! One day before my birthday, I was so bummed out-“

A Sunday. How ironic.

Your husband didn’t greet you at the door. Heavy melodies lead you to the piano where he lost himself in the art. Eventually, your staring slowed the music to a stop and he met your gaze. The silence was deafening.

Sunday smiled, “Dinner?”

This time, he noted down Wonweek’s number. The coins he took from your wallet shone under the light of the telephone box. What would he even say? ‘Hey, I’m the husband of your date and could be your twin but also I was somehow named after the day you left this town 5 years ago, wanna hang?’

He sighed and leant his head against the wall. The grime made him straighten up with a grimace. Just as he was about to punch in the number, a loud knock interrupted him - it was a blonde man with too much mischief in his eyes. Sunday blinked before realising he was being told to hurry up, or better yet, get out.

Sunday sheepishly ducked out. The man paused to take a good look at him, his drawled utterance of that name irked your lover.

“It’s Sunday, actually.”

His purple eyes shifted. The blonde’s fingers dipped under your husband’s collar and exposed him to the biting night air. By the craning of the former’s head, Sunday spied the symbol for Androids on his neck. Was it normal for machines to act so brazen?

Swatting its hand off, he stepped back with a scowl. It merely donned a knowing look, “Oh, you poor soul.”

Before stepping into the telephone box, it tossed him a credit in return for keeping quiet about ever seeing the blonde. Sunday would’ve tossed it right back if he weren’t distracted by the earlier statement.

There was nothing there. He’s already checked 13 times, and yet, he couldn’t help looking at his distorted reflection again.

“… Is there something wrong with the toaster?” Your voice brought him to attention. Today was your day off, so he was cutting you vegetables for lunch. You pushed off the doorframe and walked into the living room, “Anyway, make sure everything’s locked. Someone got murked by their own Android and they still haven’t caught it-”

Sunday murmured an agreement. He looked down at the chopping board, uncurling his slender fingers.

The elongated silence made you worry. Sunday excused himself to the bathroom where he locked the door and hunched over the sink, barely keeping it together. His sliced hand revealed metal in place of muscle.

His vision glitched. Looking up, he could barely comprehend himself through the severe pixelation. The noise shifted, surged, and finally receded.

What it left was a defined symbol on his neck.

Wonweek would be lying if he said you weren’t his type. He smiled at your messages while his laptop lay abandoned on his desk. It was a shame he didn’t have the guts before his big move, but tomorrow’s date would more than make up for years of lost time. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even be willing to return to the capital with him.

Those thoughts were banished before he could get ahead of himself. He flopped his phone to the side after shooting a text in favour of mashing keys on the laptop.

By the time Wonweek finished, the sun was long gone. He rubbed his face and was about to step inside his car when a notification rang - you had requested to meet him in that spot. Naturally, he got right out and jogged there, seeing as he established his branch close by. It was times like these that Wonweek regretted not working out more.

If the distance didn’t kill him, the stairs sure did. Your date grabbed the rails and took a moment to steady his breathing. After adjusting his appearance, he pushed on. The location was secluded yet picturesque - the perfect secret for couples. Wonweek pulled his scarf up with a flush. Upon spying fabric under darkened trees, he smiled and walked forwards.

Thoughts as to your sudden request clogged his mind; had you missed him that much? Did you get cold feet? Or was it that you couldn’t wait any longer? His heart beat faster with each suggestion.

But… were you always this tall? Were your soft eyes always so piercing?

He stopped abruptly.

“… Who are you?”

There was a dramatic pause. Just when Wonweek considered fleeing, the figure stepped into the light, revealing his absolute mirror in countenance. His mind blanked. Shock rooted him to the spot. The dupe scoffed at his reaction:

“Baffling, isn’t it? Although, I must say, meeting you is quite underwhelming.”

The other gave Wonweek a once over; as caught off guard as he was, you’d be hard pressed to find any faults in his appearance. The latter finally remembered he had a tongue, “You haven’t answered my question-“

“I’m Sunday.” The dupe drew his legs together with a hand behind his back. It was disconcerting seeing his mannerisms thrown back at him. “Your date’s Android, or rather, husband.”

Wonweek didn’t miss the bite at ‘Android’. Sunday continued, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to know what that entails. However, I have everything on paper if you so prefer.”

A folder was offered to Wonweek. He reached out, only for the evidence to ‘slip’ and sprawl across the floor.

“Oops.” Sunday withdrew his hand, yet contrary to his statement, he adorned a smug look.

His sharp eyes followed Wonweek to the ground. The situation faintly reminded the man of his unreasonably strict tutor. Mustering as much grace as a paranoid hamster, Wonweek collected the item and scoured through the contents; numerous images and scrawled notes decorated every page with Wonweek at the centre - all in your handwriting. Your observations escalated from surface-level to things that even Robin didn’t know.

Gods above, was that his hair?!

Wonweek slammed the folder shut. Sunday smiled as he slowly took it from his weak hands, “Oh my, you look pale. Was it too much?”

The former merely excused himself with a shaky breath.

“What do you mean you want to break things off?!”

You hardly contained your outburst. Although Wonweek tried to placate you, even a dumbass could notice his immense discomfort. Tears and just about every trick in the book was thrown at this man, but alas, he remained steadfast.

As he pulled away, there were two things he warned you of - his lawyer, and your Android. He relayed last night’s event to you and Sunday’s concerning behaviour. All you heard was betrayal and disobedience.

Wonweek blocked you before you even left the building.

A loud slam announced your return. Sunday, as always, greeted you at the door. Your first instinct was to commit domestic abuse. The hit didn’t connect. Regardless, something in you healed when he flinched.

You resorted to pinning him against the wall instead. His head bounced as he cried out in pain. Sunday was then subjected to your offloading of Wonweek’s words. In the end, his gaze sharpened, and all his discomfort disappeared.

He easily overpowered you. Panic yanked your hand from his near iron grip and you slapped Sunday. He backhanded you without a second thought, sending you to the floor with a splotchy cheek. Whiplash seized you when, in an instant, Sunday apologised profusely and tended to you as if he wasn’t the cause.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You took great care in shielding Sunday from those deviants, so how could he have been jailbroken?

Despite his regret, the sparkle in his eyes told a different story as they traced your hunched form. A cold press eventually met your injury as Sunday gently cupped your face, his 'breath' fanning your lashes. Normally, you would be gushing over the lack of distance, but the looming dread overrode any affection you once held.

He wore a pleased look, "That man doesn’t strike me as someone who can spare you such care, wouldn’t you agree?"

"… Right." Sunday's wings fluttered with contentment. You sneered, "Wonweek wouldn't need to. Us humans don't tend to beat our spouses."

"You hit me first."

"You're an Android, you can't get hurt-"

The cold press was removed. Hot pain bloomed from the bruise as Sunday grabbed your face, eliciting a muffled yelp. Your skin bristled when he leaned in with eyes as dark as the abyss.

"Then how do you explain the emptiness I feel at the mere mention of my predecessor? Or the suffocation whenever I remember I'm just a side grade." Sunday paused, "Do you even think me capable of love?"

At your lack of answer he retreated with a scoff. The Android chucked the cold press into the sink, leaving you slumped on the floor, gripping the counter out of frustration. He eventually faced you with a much more composed profile. Despite the haunting similarity, there was an animalistic edge to him.

Sunday’s hands curled tight behind his back as he forced a sardonic smile, “You think I’m expendable junk, and I thought you were a good person. Goodness, it seems we’ve had the wrong idea about each other the whole time! Why don’t we just start over?”

He bit back a laugh at your aghast expression, “There’s nothing left to salvage, it’s not even your call to make!”

“It isn’t? Then please, enlighten me as to how you’ll stop me.” Sunday watched with pleasure as the fiery conviction left his spouse.

“You’ve shown me how humans love, now it’s my turn to show you how Androids love.”

Explanation:

The drastic changes in mood at the start were the security measures regulating his emotions so he doesn’t act up

When he cut his palm open he essentially jailbroke himself. If you’re wondering why it was so easy for him to deviate, just remember that greedy corporations cut corners all the time 💔

Things I would do if I had househusband Sunday:

❌ treat him with respect

❌ take care of him

❌ make him happy

✅ CRACK SUNDAY

✅ IMPREGNATE SUNDAY

✅ FINANCIALLY ABUSE SUNDAY

✅ MAKE SUNDAY CRY

#yandere hsr #yandere sunday

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starseneyes · 1 month ago

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Buddie - Evan Buckley + Eddie Diaz - 8x17 - Kitchen Scene - Meta

I promised myself I wasn't gonna do this, damnit. I don't have time to dig into every ounce of lore.

But, I kept thinking about the kitchen scene on a long drive. This, of course, meant pulling out my phone to video record my thoughts because I was driving.

And I was thinking about how this was the Buddie scene of the last few episodes and how it's what we really have to chew on during the hiatus. And I have thoughts.

SPOILERS: I doubt many people here haven't seen 8x17, but I'm putting everything under the Keep Reading widget just in case.

Ready to dive into a way-too-long single-scene Meta? Let's!

Let's start with Eddie walking into the room wearing yet another jacket. He's been in layers often in the show, but what caught my eye was how Eddie immediately removed said jacket when he walked into the kitchen.

He's wearing his armor when he's out of the house—feigning fine when inside he's roiling as much as Buck, begging for his best friend to play his usual role and draw him out.

But Buck's trying to live out his interpretation of his father figure's last words—and that's spun him out. Bobby said they'd need him, right? But he feels like nobody needs him.

Instead of having open conversation, he's hyperfocusing on numbers and assessments and feeling like all signs point to, "They're fine". But nobody is fucking fine. Least of all Eddie "I'm a 12" Diaz.

The first shot shows us Eddie walking in. The camera is already unsteady, shaky, bearing the weight of the tension building in that room long before Eddie entered.

The warmth is drained of the kitchen. Nothing on the fridge or counters to suggest personality.

It's clinical. Like an operating table waiting for the blood to spatter as the surgeon makes the first cut. That won't take long.

Then we do something that I love that is acceptable in TV but somehow not acceptable to any of my teachers in my short stories—we shift POV. Our point-of-view goes from establishing the room to taking on Eddie's vantage as he walks in.

We're still on a purposefully-unsteady steady cam, feeling handheld and raw—like the nerves of the two men inhabiting the too small space—forced to wander the perimeter in awkward moves like mice squeezing through a maze without direction.

"Said I was gonna get the groceries." "I was out. It's fine."

And the conflict of the scene—that isn't the real conflict—is established.

Now, folks have commented that Eddie doesn't walk into the room with groceries, though he said he'd pick them up. My guess is that he planned to borrow Buck's car to grab them and has been Pepa-taxi-ing and Ubering around Los Angeles.

As someone who visited Los Angeles recently—that shit is expensive. I rented a bloody car rather than do that and my last visit only lasted 36 hours.

But Eddie wasn't planning on staying long, so my bet is he's relying on the mighty app. So, mayhaps he thought they'd share dinner and awkward silence before he did a grocery run using Buck's car after-shift.

But here's Buck with all the groceries in nondescript paper bags—so easily ripped and torn. Now, paper bags can be great if you know how to hold them properly. But when I first started using them, I tore every. single. one.

You have to do it right. Handle with care. But both of these humans are powderkegs at the moment—one with the canon pointed inward and the other aiming out.

Buck finishes at the one cabinet and moves clear across the room as Eddie pours himself a cup of coffee. Ordinarily, these two are magnets, drawn to one another naturally. But, now the polarity of the magnets have shifted, and they're naturally repelling one another.

It's instinctive—how Buck moves to the other side of the room before Eddie can align them. Yes, Eddie's poking Buck with his comment, but Buck's response is non-commital and passive aggressive.

Neither is handling this "communicating" thing, well. Not that they should, after all. This is supposed to be a scene fraught with heartache and heartbreak and the chasm of grief that often separates us from those we love most.

But it illustrates the point that Eddie and Buck are already walking on eggshells around one another, neither knowing what to say.

In the past, Eddie's house was a safe place for Buck. He could run there when Maddie's mothering was overwhelming or when his boyfriend broke his heart. For Eddie, Buck's presence was so natural that by Season 8A Buck could waltz in without a knock.

And while the walls remain—the foundational bones of a building—the house doesn't feel the same. Because where before one could anchor the other, both are unmoored.

Now, this is an interesting time to note—Buck is torn between being a petty bitch and still wanting to take care of Eddie.

There is no coffee mug out for Buck. So, when he got home with the groceries, he likely brewed a fresh pot of coffee before he started unloading them. Upset as he is—and his protest-buying of the groceries is a manifestation of that—he still instinctively wants to take care of Eddie.

And Eddie's still here for Buck.

We can pretend it's Aunt Pepa, like he said, but the real reason Eddie Diaz hasn't gone home is that things are wrong between him and the second-most important person in his life.

For so long, Eddie has thought his world was a single person—his son. But as the show wears on, the cracks reveal that there are two people that are his world—and one of them has completely closed himself off.

Buck is spiraling, let's be clear. Some spirals are easy to spot. But I went through an entire Post Partum Depression for six months after the birth of my twins and not one person noticed because I'm so good at masking.

And Eddie knows Buck well enough to spot it. He just has no idea how to pull him out because Eddie's instincts are always to wait for the other person to come to him—and too often he waits too long.

Here, Eddie is trying to draw Buck out. This is his best attempt at breaking through the noise to try to get something out of Buck. Because his best friend is internalizing and spiraling. And he does almost everything wrong.

In this scene, I'm an Eddie. My husband is a Buck. It sucked in our early arguments as we learned how to better handle my inherited temper and his instinct to shut down and internalize.

So I feel like Eddie is poking to try to get Buck to share what's really going on, because even Eddie Diaz knows this is not about the groceries.

"Doesn't feel like it's fine."

Because it's not. Buck sneaks a look at him, because he was hoping Eddie was going to say something. He was hoping Eddie was going to spill. He was hoping Eddie was going to talk to him.

These two keep expecting the other to act like a partner while telling themselves they're just friends.

Eddie didn't tell Buck about looking at real estate in El Paso. Buck didn't tell Eddie about adopting a dog. Eddie didn't tell Buck about getting the job in El Paso.

They're going back and forth and back and forth, but this time the hot potato is a grenade. And time's running out.

Buck finally turns to face him.

"I heard you finally got the call from El Paso Fire. Congratulations."

Again, passive aggressive. He's making it clear to Eddie that he heard this from someone else. Not from him. And Eddie immediately panics, freezing momentarily.

The whole thing is couple coded—I made this huge decisions without consulting you, dear—but it's worse because Eddie already left. This just solidifies his life really is somewhere else—away from Buck. And Buck wanted to hear it from him.

Look, I give Eddie credit for keeping Buck tied into his life while he's been in El Paso. Yes, Buck has had a lot of people leave him, contributing to his trauma and abandonment issues.

But Eddie kept him tied in through constant FaceTimes—because it's "serious"—and almost all major decisions regarding his (*cough* their *cough*) son.

So why didn't he clue Buck in on this one?

Oh, something must be wrong with Buck. There must be something off or broken about him that he can't be trusted. Buck's thinking it.

That's where the "all about you" comes in for me.

Buck isn't selfish in that he thinks the world's love and light revolves around him. No, he is self-focused because he was never loved as a child for who he was, so he internalizes any conflict around him as his fault.

Buck can't process the loss of his Father Figure because he thinks the way to do that is honor Bobby's last words—but they aren't aligning with what Buck is seeing around him. So, he's spiraling.

He truly thinks he's not worth staying for. Not worth being honest with. Not worth keeping. It's part of why he tries so hard in life to take care of the people around him.

Because if these people chose him, by God, he's going to choose them back ten times harder to try to keep them. He doesn't realize he doesn't have to try. He's never internalized the fact that they love him for him.

Not because he's "Buck, the guy with the answers" or "Buck, the guy who likes to fix things". Buck has no idea they love him because he's "Buck".

No qualifiers. They love him for who he is.

But he can't see that. So, he spins and spirals and thinks he's a burden, so he won't reach out. But by shutting everyone out and approaching everything clinically, he's lost the connection they all need so much.

When Buck (briefly) lost his job as a firefighter, he was drifting. He couldn't understand that this was a family. But in the aftermath of Bobby's death, he feels like his family is fractured and he can't pull them together.

He feels like he's failed them. And in that way, he's not seeing the full picture. He's only seeing his failure and not their shared grief.

And all his best friend/situationship wants is to draw him out so they can share this. So they can get through this together. So he can help Buck the way that Buck has helped him so many times.

But Eddie has no idea how to begin, and their worn nerves are growing more exposed by the chasm between them, straining from stretching as they pull further apart.

Eddie's now on the defensive, and that's already a bad place for Eddie—because he'll fight back harder to get himself out of the corner.

Now, I'm not excusing the shit Eddie's about to pull—and by that I mean the verbal jabs that that little shit knows are going to hurt—but looking for where it originates. "He's a fighter," Buck once said to Chris after his Dad had been shot.

Oh, those words are forever true for Edmundo Diaz.

"Who told you?"

And then Buck digs in a little. Because he's hurting. Because he's frustrated. He goes through the whole list, spoiling the Surprise Party as he goes, because he's hurt and feeling petty.

This all stems from Buck never truly feeling settled with those he loves. He's always waiting for them to abandon him, to forget him, to forsake him.

His insecurities are fed by the fact that he still doesn't see himself as a part of the ecosystem or organism of their Found Family. He views himself as a grafted piece that never takes.

He doesn't understand that he's loved and cherished and intricately woven into the same tapestry as they all are, the threads intersecting and overlapping in ways that bind them to one another.

He can't see it. And so he lashes out a bit, here, going step-by-step through the perceived betrayal.

"I was gonna tell you." "But you didn't, did you?"

Eddie is slightly out of focus as he says this, just coming into focus. Everything feels off and wrong and foreign in the best of ways.

Let's be clear—camera work is a fucking art. Some people go to school for it. Some people learn it on-the-job. But the camera crew is often under appreciated, and this team is showing off in the best way.

We're getting a feast, loves, of little choices that help lead us on an emotional journey through this scene. That's mastery.

Eddie's brow furrows at Buck's words. He can feel the heat coming off of Buck, at last.

There's something besides the blank "everything is okay" mask Buck's been wearing for the past few weeks. The porcelain's beginning to crack, and Eddie can see the flesh beneath.

But Buck's words aren't about Bobby. They're about them. This isn't what Eddie wanted to discuss. Maybe that feeds into why he waited so long to tell Buck—he wanted them to be in a good place, first.

But there's no space to breathe in a room quickly filling with the smog of their grief and misplaced frustration. Buck moves ahead with his head-canon—everyone thinks something's wrong with me.

Eddie tries to distance himself from it. He knows he is frustrated and he's trying to put space between him and Buck as he simmers.

"Instead everyone's been tip-toeing around behind my back 'cause apparently I'm too fragile to accept the truth."

They are now on opposite sides of the room, the table separating them, cutting them off from one another. A physical representation of the emotional block preventing them from coming together in a time of shared grief.

Between them, a bag of groceries on the table. But it was never about the groceries.

"Can you blame us? Look how you're acting now." "You really think I'd wouldn't have been happy for you?"

Eddie thinks he's being factual—he hasn't yet turned to wordplay as weaponry—but it plays into Buck's fears. Because people who go around him can just so easily move away.

Buck's always afraid that he isn't worth staying for, not worth keeping. Eddie is afraid he's too broken to be the support anyone else needs.

And, God, they need each other, here. Not in a romantic way, no. But because nobody in the world understands the other like him.

Eddie once chided Buck that well as he knows his sister, Maddie, there are ways Chimney knows her that Buck never will. Buck and Eddie are each other's person. No matter what else they will be on this show, that is a fact.

Eddie is ill-equipped to be what Buck needs in this moment because the roles are reversed—Buck repressing and Eddie desperately wanting to draw him out.

He's never learned how to be a partner in that way. We can see from all of his relationships that he's a runner, not someone who digs in and learns how to do it better. So he's going to fuck this up.

And that's going to play into Buck's fears.

Again, he's internalizing that Eddie must think the worst about him. But Eddie doesn't understand that's what Buck is doing. He doesn't know where that comes from—the source of him sometimes acting out and getting it wrong.

It comes from a lack of self-worth, not an over-abundance of self-esteem.

Yes, both have to do with an unhealthy centering of self, but Eddie doesn't fully understand and Buck can't fully articulate.

And right now, neither is in a place to dive in that deep. No, they're too busy tearing at the flesh of the still-wounded animal within, slowly bleeding out from an unhealed wound.

"No, I know you wouldn't be. You'd make it all about you. The trials and tribulations of Evan Buckley. A tragedy in 97 acts."

The most dramatic line ever uttered by the resident King of Sass, but it's more than that.

Where Buck was poking with his remarks about the El Paso job, Eddie is jabbing Buck with a knife. He's cutting into Buck's deepest vulnerabilities trying to elicit a response—to get him to fight back.

But that's not Buck's style. Right now, Eddie is pushing because that is what he needs. It's not what Buck needs. And right now Eddie's hurting too much to see that.

So, his words that normally weave together Buck's wounds tear them further open.

Notably, after this line is when Eddie rounds the table, putting him and Buck on the same side. He pulls back from the jabs, trying to speak plainly.

"You've been spiraling since the funeral and no one knows how to talk to you about it."

But Buck's still hurting from the last comment, the one before. So he responds with a jab of his own.

"Sorry I'm sad that Bobby's dead."

The implication is clear—you're not sad, Mr. "I scored a 12".

Because grief can't be measured on a scale. It comes in waves and crashes. It bowls you over in moments when you're feeling fine and drags you under when you least expect.

And right now it overflows in Eddie Diaz.

PAUSE: I understand there are those who were triggered by this interaction and I do not wish to make light of anything. From my perspective, Eddie was not going to hurt Buck and Buck was in zero danger, but please know that does not in any way suggest I think my opinion invalidates your lived-in experience or understanding of the scene.

He grabs onto Buck's shoulder, pointing with his free hand. As others have noted, I immediately realized it was the "wrong shoulder". Destielers know a wrong shoulder when they see one!

The other shoulder is comfort. It's grounding. It's familiar and loving.

This time, it's a reach of desperation. Note how we have not seen any physical contact between these two since Eddie returned from El Paso. Not a brushing of hands passing a beer. Not a welcoming hug.

Yes, Buck briefly leaned into Eddie as he stood, unsteady, at the funeral. But that's the closest thing we've seen on-screen.

Eddie needs to get through to Buck. He needs his best friend to hear him. So, he grabs ahold of him on that wrong shoulder, and he points with emphasis.

So many emotions flash through Eddie's face as he tries to get through to Buck. He gathers himself enough to keep his words controlled, measured, without accusation.

"You're not the only one that lost him. We all lost him."

Eddie releases Buck and steps away. The emotions are coming through stronger, the next line delivered with the pain and struggle of trying to keep one's emotions in, but them spilling out, anyway.

"And we're just trying to do our damned best to get through it." "Yeah, I know."

Eddie turns away from Buck on this, leaning onto the table, his back to his best friend. He's hurting so bad, and it's tumbling out—those waves of grief crashing one after the other.

He's already stumbling on the ocean floor under the weight of them, shoving him down into the shattered shells that scratch his face.

"Really? Cause you never asked what it was like..."

Because Buck always asks. He hounds Eddie about Panic Attacks. He tells the man he doesn't have to pretend with him. He's always the one pushing to make sure that Eddie is okay.

But neither one of them is okay, and Eddie doesn't know how to play the Buck role in the relationship because reaching out has never been natural.

And can we please talk about the composition of this shot?! I've mostly experienced 9-1-1 via GIFs and clips. But I can't remember many shots that were contained that took my breath away like this one.

I'm not talking about some silhouette of a rescue or some massive explosion or whatever. I'm talking about a shot of two people in this moment who are unable to face the same direction, even.

Eddie wants to be with Buck (again, not romantically at this second... just aligned in this moment) but he's breaking and has to turn away, to root himself on something solid and unmoving like that table.

He's often the anchor with his shoulder touch and words of encouragement—but not today.

Buck wants to be with Eddie, so his body is open to the kitchen... but his gaze is almost entirely away from him in this shot. He's normally the one reaching out, drawing Eddie out from his inner self. But this time, he's the one drowning in his own self-inflicted misery.

He's also holding onto the counter, if you note. They're both holding onto something for strength, for balance, for bearing—because right now they can't hold onto each other.

It's just fucking gorgeous. This whole scene is so fucking gorgeous.

Eddie's flashback hurts like hell. We remember the last time he got bad news of an important death—the time he broke down and took a bat to everything he owned, scaring the shit out of young Christopher who called Buck in desperation.

This time, Eddie knew there was no one to call. There was no Buck nearby to calm his kid and talk him through it.

And that's obviously not Buck's fault, but I think moments like that emphasized for Eddie just how alone he was... and just how much he needs Buck.

No, I don't think the realization has happened, yet.

I have my own head-canons about Eddie's journey of self-discovery that anchor him in who he is, as affirmed by others in his life long before Buck even gets on his radar as a potential romantic partner.

But, that's a story for another Meta (that I swear I am not gonna write, dagnabbit!).

We switch from that dark, shadowed flashback to the too-bright light of the kitchen. Neither is safe. Neither feels like home.

The instability is intentional—keeping us as off-balance as the characters, depriving us of warmth. It's all so cold. So blue. So wrong.

"Sitting alone in the dark. Trying to keep it together so I don't scare the crap out of my kid."

Eddie finally meets Buck's eyes on that last word. Because if they have nothing else, they have Chris.

And both of them know what happened the last time Eddie lost it, the last time he scared Chris. But this time, Eddie knew he couldn't let himself feel it. He had to keep it in for Chris.

Tears well in Eddie's eyes. He's finally letting himself feel. But Buck's still behind the wall, still closed off, still hiding from feeling because he thinks he needs to be strong.

Eddie turns away, again. He knows he's not getting through.

"I'm sorry."

This breaks Eddie. Breaks him right in half. Because the last thing he wants is to make Buck feel worse. He wants Buck to open up to him the way he wants so desperately to open up to Buck.

And this is all Ryan Guzman giving us a feast of a facial journey. I feel like this season he hasn't had many opportunities to shine, so given this wallop of a scene, he gave his all. Nothing is held back.

I'm damn proud of the kid (he's younger than my baby brother, so I feel like I can call him "kid").

But watch Buck in the background. I don't know if this was Oliver Stark's instincts, something written on the page, or a Directorial choice... but it's so subtle, yet so impactful.

Buck can't see Eddie's face, but he knows him well enough to understand this hurt Eddie worse. Oh, no. I hurt him worse. It's another mistake. Another failure. Something else he can't fix.

So he looks away. He oh so briefly looked to Eddie on the apology, but having seen what it wrought, he looks away.

"I know he was important to you, too." "He saved my life. And I wasn't there to save his."

Yes, you were, Eddie. You were. You just don't know you did it. You don't know how you gave an alcoholic hope when he had none. You have no idea how your words had an impact.

You did save him, Eddie. Just not this time.

And it really feeds into how Eddie at his best is the one to offer the words others need. It's really his superpower much as it's his curse. His words can wound, but they can also heal.

He just doesn't have the right words right now.

"And a part of me will always wonder if I was there, could I have made a difference?"

His voice is soft. He's facing Buck, though he's not meeting his eyes. He wants Buck to listen and hear him. He wants Buck to see him and draw him closer, not push him away.

"You don't think I did everything I could to save him?"

Buck stepped away from the counter, at last, on this line. He's not listening at all, now. He's hearing what he expects to hear. Buck, you failed him.

But that's not what Eddie says. And in his mind, Buck just did what Eddie feared he would do—made it all about him.

And, again, this is not about being selfish or self-centered. Eddie just lamented that he feels guilty for not being there. And Buck turns around and accuses him of doubting that he did everything he could.

That's not what it was about, Buck. This is about Eddie sharing Eddie's self-doubt.

But Buck sees it as another example of his own failure. And Eddie doesn't realize that. He doesn't understand the source and intention behind what Buck is saying.

And Buck is mis-reading into what Eddie said. Eddie not being there is about Eddie's guilt, not any accusation on Eddie's part about Buck's worth.

But Eddie feels like he's not being heard, so he gets in one more jab before leaving the room.

"I don't know, Buck. I wasn't there."

They're talking past one another because they don't fully understand the root of one another's traumas and how that manifests. And, like, they're best friends not lovers, right?

Sure, the line is so messily drawn it's more of a squiggle of marker on a damp piece of paper that's spreading in every direction. They've functioned as co-parents and partners for years without noticing.

And this speaks to how little either knows of true love. Of true partnership. That they found it in one another is a miracle deserving of song.

We all know how the episode ends—and I'm not gonna do the rest, dagnabbit—but I do want to point out that Eddie realizes after the fight what Buck needs.

And instead of running away, he tries to do better, to own up to being a dick, to get through to Buck not with words or fights... but with love. With family. With a sense of belonging.

Buck needs something Eddie can't give at the moment. But Eddie knows someone who can give him that grounding. It just happens to be the same human who holds his whole heart.

And that's what Eddie brings to Buck at the end of the episode. No, Buck doesn't get to keep Eddie's heart at this point—the physical representation in his son or the metaphorical one still locked away in a padlocked box within.

But someday, that boy who already thinks of Buck as his second Dad will utter the word "my Dads" and Buck's heart will burst with pride.

Someday Eddie's big brown eyes will hold Buck's blues and the charge between them will be so undeniable that one or both will have to act.

And someday Edmundo Diaz will give himself permision to love as Evan Buckley gives himself permission to be loved.

And that will be a damn beautiful thing.

At least... that's my hope. But I'm a sentimental old fool, so I guess we shall see.

Truly, my hat's off to everyone in this scene. Acting was impeccable. Camera work sensational. Lighting and set dressing set the tone immediately. Editing a dream. Directing was gorgeous. Writing was exceptional.

These are the scenes where I get excited as a viewer and I forget to think about what's happening on-screen from an analytical mind. That's rare for me. So this scene was a real treat!

Thanks for sticking around for this one, loves. It's a one-off! Truly! I'm working on breaking a Pilot, Outlining a Feature, and I need to get back on my Strike Book that has been waiting for my full health (finally getting there) to re-address.

Remember, loves—give yourself grace, make time for joy, and take every opportunity to dance in the rain.

#Buddie #Buddie Meta #911 Meta #911 ABC #911 on ABC #Evan Buckley #Buck Buckley #Evan Buck Buckley #Edmundo Diaz #Eddie Diaz #Edmundo Eddie Diaz #Oliver Stark #Ryan Guzman #This is a one off I swear #8x17 #kitchen fight

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theextendedbriechyne · 5 months ago

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You've Got Nothing To Lose

So, productivity. Yeah. Let’s talk about it.

If you’re anything like me, you’ve probably had that moment—you know, when your to-do list is longer than your lifespan, your tabs are multiplying like rabbits, and your brain is just ✨ refusing ✨ to cooperate. Being a full-time student and a creator means my life is basically a constant balancing act, and let me tell you… I was dropping so many balls.

I tried every planner, every system, every method that productivity YouTube threw at me, and nothing really stuck. Bullet journaling? Loved the idea, hated the effort. Google Calendar? Cute, but I forgot to check it. Sticky notes? Everywhere. Chaos. Absolute chaos.

Then I found Notion, and listen—I was skeptical. It looked overwhelming, like an empty void of endless possibilities (and not in the fun way). But once I actually took the time to figure it out? Oh, it was over for me.

Now, my entire life lives in Notion. It’s where I plan my assignments, track my creative projects, and pretend I have my life together. And because I love making things both cute and efficient, I’ve spent way too much time tweaking my setup to be as ✨ functional but aesthetic ✨ as possible.

This post is just a little peek into the things that helped me get my Notion workspace together. Nothing too deep, just some surface-level tips. I’ll get more in-depth later, but for now—here’s what made the biggest difference for me:

🌿 How I Revamped My Notion Setup: 📌 Made It Pretty – Because if I’m going to stare at it every day, it has to be cute. Matching colors, simple layouts, and an aesthetic cover image make it 10x more enjoyable to use.

📌 Created a “Homebase” – Everything I need in one place. No more digging through five different pages for my assignments, projects, and notes. My dashboard is literally my lifesaver.

📌 Kept It Simple – Look, I love a good Notion setup, but if it’s too complicated, I just won’t use it. I stick to a system that works for me: clean, minimal, and easy to navigate.

📌 Automated Whatever I Could – Linked databases? Buttons? Widgets? Yes, please. Anything that saves me even a little time is a win.

✨ Want to try it for yourself? I actually put together a Notion template based on my setup, so if you’re looking for something that’s aesthetic and functional, I got you. It’s perfect for students, creators, or anyone who wants to get their life together in a ✨ cute ✨ way.

🔗 Check it out here! → BRIE BLOSSOMS

I’m still tweaking and improving my setup all the time, so I’ll definitely share more in the future! But for now—what’s your biggest struggle with productivity? Let’s talk in the tags ⬇️ or drop your Notion questions in the replies! 💭💖

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courfaeriedust · 3 months ago

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Alexander H— and the Merlin Story

So almost anyone who has talked to me about The Night Circus has been treated to my pet theory that Alexander is Merlin, which I’ve never really explained. I’ve changed this slightly based on my latest reread, and I figured it was time to finally write it down. My theory is no longer that Alexander is Merlin. It’s that Merlin is Alexander.

So, first off: the story of Merlin in the Night Circus is usually there as a metaphor for being trapped. Widget tells the story to Poppet, and they have a conversation about whether it’s such a bad thing to be trapped somewhere (which is heartbreaking because they’re 8 at the time of this scene, but that’s another post.) It also comes up later, when (spoiler) Tsukiko intends to imprison Marco in the Bonfire.

Tsukiko doesn’t call it the Merlin story, though. She calls it the story of the Wizard in the Tree. And Kiko always, always knows more than she is saying. Now that could just be that — it could just be about entrapment and confinement. But the ground is soft and I’m here to dig.

Here are some facts about Alexander:

He doesn’t have a shadow

He doesn’t interact with the world as others do (as a child Marco never manages to be as silent as him in museums; at the party to celebrate the 13th anniversary of the Night Circus Alexander doesn’t stir up the rose petals littering the floor as everyone else does)

He is very, very old (though not immortal)

He is always grey. He’s introduced as the Grey Man, and he’s never associated with colour (aside from maybe the black cradle he sends for the twins, and the black rose at Tara’s funeral. However, when it’s just him everything associated with him is grey.)

Alexander has seen the decline of magic in the world. This is inferred, I grant, but he’s very dismissive when Widget says that there’s still some magic about, as if to him it is nothing. And although we never actually see him do much magic (he binds Celia, manipulates Tara, and teaches Marco, but that’s all I believe we see directly), his power feels present.

Following from that, very few people remember his name. Is this the manipulation Marco picked up? It could be. It could also be that he’s not fully there. Furthermore, his name isn’t really Alexander.

He is, at heart, a kind man. (This isn’t relevant to the theory, I was just surprised by how often it showed up. Anyway.)

I have always taken these things to mean he attempted what Hector did, but much more successfully. He disdains what Hector tried to do, though — he’s uninterested in immortality, and unimpressed that Hector attempted that. And so, I posit: what if Alexander did this to himself not as a choice, but because the other option was being a tree? What if the tree is his touchstone, just as Celia and Marco’s is the Circus, just as Hector doesn’t have one and is therefore diluted? A smaller area, and presumably stronger magic (assuming this is long ago when magic was more than it is today), would make him more able to interact with the world than any of the other three. This explains his lack of shadow, and his minimal interaction with the world.

It’s unclear how old Alexander is; the only real clue we get is Widget at the end saying that “if I calculated the ages of everyone I have behind this proposition, the total might trump your own age.” That doesn’t actually help that much, because we don’t know how many the Circus number, and theoretically Rêveurs could count amongst that number. So he’s very old, but human. I have just now realised that Hector is one of his first students, which means he can’t be that much younger, so what I’m about to say won’t hold up with this revelation but hey, we got here already so I’ll keep going. Trees can live a lot longer than a regular human. Trees can lose branches in the way that some parts of Alexander’s history are lost to Widget. Tree growth is non-linear, much like the circles and overlaps Widge sees in his history too.

Okay, back to things I won’t immediately poke holes in myself: Alexander lived through the downfall of magic. And what if that’s because it happened to him? I do think this makes Hector the beautiful student he told all his secrets too, which is again another post for another time, but the tale it has become doesn’t have to be the tale of how it started. Hector is, frankly, awful. He’s a horrible man. Can you see him imprisoning his teacher to get more power for himself? Easily. Now Alexander isn’t much better, but he claims he was a romantic “in his youth”, and also, when he gets the chance to be he is so often kind. He tells Celia she’s an Angel. He takes Marco out of an orphanage for his own ends, yes, but also to give Marco a better life. He does care, deeply, about Marco. He tries to save Herr Thiessen. He has many many moments of small kindnesses throughout the book. Can you not imagine him trying his best to share his knowledge of magic? Can you not imagine him settling for more knowledge by way of a challenge, instead of enacting revenge?

(Hey look at that, Alexander’s kindness did turn out to be relevant!)

There’s also something about young Celia pointing out that Alexander is to him as Prospero is to Hector. I don’t know what to make of that — perhaps Alexander’s true name is just old, and would draw too much attention. When Marco summons him, he inscribes symbols in the shape of an A, though. The Night Circus feels like it takes place in a world where true names have power.

In conclusion: I think Alexander is the basis of the Merlin story, and textually there is little that denies that. I hope you’ve enjoyed this freshly ploughed ground; feel free to plant seeds in it should you wish.

#The Night Circus #The Night Circus meta #This might be the longest meta I’ve written? Or maybe that was about Sam the Quarterback #Anyway this theory has been in my head for yearssssss #Alexander H—#I know I go on about him being kind but it was genuinely such a revelation in the face of Hector being such a rat bastard #And Tsukiko calling it the story of the Wizard in the Tree rather than the Merlin story really made me 👀#Though I would be curious if that might just be a cultural thing — as you can imagine google doesn’t get me to the heart of the myth #so I’m happy to be pointed in other directions #But in general this theory makes zero difference to reading it’s just very fun #There’s definitely a tree motif to be explored other than this too — with Bailey’s oak tree and the Wishing Tree #And how Marco makes tree illusions any chance he gets #So yeah. Recommend making annotated copies for a friend you end up with soooo many thoughts #My dms and inbox are always open for Night Circus chat should anyone wish <3 #Should I proofread this before I post? Nope we die like — ah. Sorry Friedrick

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notfinancialadvice · 8 months ago

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WordPress Shifts in industry news I am not a part of but enjoy gossiping about

I used to do a a lot of work using WordPress as a system. It's easy, cheap to build and maintain with, etc.

I do not anymore. This has nothing to do with WordPress. It was exclusively a "a few years ago I received the opportunity to bow out of the industry as a graphic designer in order to pursue a cocktail of art, fantasy, economy, and business"

I used to be a customer of Advanced Custom Fields. I am no longer, for the same reason as above, I am no longer a web developer. Their service was good to me and I enjoyed it tremendously while I had it.

I have therefore no stake in this game and thus no public opinion.

And yet I enjoy the drama of it all so here we are.

WordPress is forking.

Or maybe it isn't a fork.

The core, mesmerizing, (and I do not say this lightly) potentially civilization changing beauty of open source software is the ability to meet different, often diametrically opposing, priorities.

"Civilization-changing is kinda heavy language?"

via

No :)

A significant portion of the internet as we know it today is powered by WordPress. It has and will continue to shape the entire scope and scale of internet development for longer than anyone reading this will be alive -- for good and for ill.

WordPress was primarily a blogging system that could build websites as well. With the introduction of externally-based Advanced Custom Fields, it became a powerhouse web builder as well.

The short version: You could easily say "put this image / text / whatever here in the template."

It was a game changer to many smaller scale developers (hi) with a tiny staff. It allowed us (me + team) to grow much more powerful very quickly and very affordably.

Digging into the news further, there is / was chatter about pulling in the core functionality of ACF into WP's main system.

It brings an interesting point to the open source space.

And goes to my original points above.

If you make something open, how much control do you have over it? If you profit from it, how long can this last before it gets pulled into the core?

That is a risk as a developer -- you could potentially lose your business because it gets folded into the larger entity, but on the other hand, until that point, your reward was immediate accessibility to a market / system a million times larger than you, that you had previously no hand in building.

It is a tragedy of the commons.

I had long forgotten this phrase.

I'm familiar with the concept -- a public finite resource is at risk of overuse from all because it is available to all -- it largely joins with the core issue of economics itself -- how do you find balance with finite resources and infinite desires.

It is the nature of art on the internet.

Artists want to make art and it to be seen, they put it online. Audiences do not by nature owe them anything, the art is available to view for free, but without audience support, the art will stop or degrade in posting frequency.

More directly, to the WordPress sphere, what is the responsibility to the core system (thus other users)? What is the responsibility of the users to the core system?

Objectively speaking, building and maintaining a system like WordPress requires a lot of resources.

The open source nature allows for competing priorities to be served provided enough resources, because you can always say "I don't want to follow your path of ABC, I want to do BCD" and then do that.

The open source nature also allows you to say "I made a widget, it costs $100/year"

But the core can say "Hm. That would make our system stronger. Yoink. Now it's ours and is free."

Then you have a market race to push to build the better whatever.

I...

...do not have answers.

To any of this.

I am left realizing.

It feels like macroeconomics and personal economics grinding against each other in a way that is traditionally seen across countries (if not the world) and decades (if not centuries) -- but in this instance, it's a much smaller scale (kinda? WP powers a lot of the internet and influences a significant portion of what it doesn't power).

And weeks and months.

Instead of decades and centuries.

This is a fun piece of bone to chew on.

I freely admit it is fun exclusively because I am not involved. If I were, it would be fucking nerve wracking.

#atty rambles about wordpress #wordpress #tragedy of the commons

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briechyne · 5 months ago

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You've Got Nothing To Lose

So, productivity. Yeah. Let’s talk about it.

📌 Created a “Homebase” – Everything I need in one place. No more digging through five different pages for my assignments, projects, and notes. My dashboard is literally my lifesaver.

📌 Kept It Simple – Look, I love a good Notion setup, but if it’s too complicated, I just won’t use it. I stick to a system that works for me: clean, minimal, and easy to navigate.

📌 Automated Whatever I Could – Linked databases? Buttons? Widgets? Yes, please. Anything that saves me even a little time is a win.

🔗 Check it out here! → 15 LANE STUDIO

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atopearth · 7 months ago

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Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Part 6 - Dual Destinies (AA5) Episodes 1-3

Episode 1 - Turnabout Countdown

Animated cutscenes?! What a world! Anyway, I've been curious about Athena so I'm looking forward to this! It also seems like Phoenix is back to being an attorney so that's fun! Apollo seems rather rough though? Athena seems fun though. Everyone is 3D now?! I'm not used to it, I like 2D🥲 Lmao at the weird Junie girl sniffing sunflowers when she coughs😂 It's nice to see that Apollo seemed to protect people during that bomb explosion and that's why he was too injured to defend in court and Athena had to sub in, but I liked how proactive she was! Her Widget is so funny to say what she's thinking though hahhaha. I'm so glad Phoenix came to save the day! It's hard to be in court alone especially for a first case and I think Athena really needs the support🥲 Winston Payne has a brother called Gaspen Payne? Hahahaha. I like that bomb squad witness, him dismantling the bomb is such a great animation.

I agree that Athena should be given leave to smack Payne because he's really mean! Ohhh, Apollo protected Juniper and that's how he got injured. The girl is smitten, but I can't blame her, that would be pretty cool to have a hero save you hahaha! I kinda cheered for the painter girl with Apollo but I guess Juniper is cute too! The mood feeling thing power of Athena's is pretty interesting. I kinda like it for now. It's also really cool how when they do the Mood Matrix, they reenact the scene of the testimony with images! It's such a nice touch! This sure is high tech stuff though hahahah, it's funny how only the defence can use it and take advantage of it during questioning lol, no objections to the use of machines?! Lmao at everyone taking digs at Phoenix for being famous for bluffing his way out of everything😂😂 I quite liked Ted Tonate and his bluff with the explosive, I think it was to be expected, just like the fact that the detective was actually killed before the explosion. The downfall of Ted Tonate hahaha. His breakdown was pretty fun, the ones in Apollo Justice weren't very fun so it was nice to start off with this one. It was funny how Payne ran far away but the people in the gallery came back lolll. I think this was a nice simple start to the game and I quite enjoyed how straightforward it all was and the introduction of the characters. Apollo himself has been less silly and stuff though so I wonder what happened~

Episode 2 - The Monstrous Turnabout

Awww Trucy doesn't look that nice in 3D either🥲 it's so nice how everything in the background moves though! Awww, can we not examine places anymore??? That was my favourite part of investigations! Jinxie is very cute though, I like how when she puts that ward on Apollo thinking he's an evil demon, you see the ward on the screen hahahah. Lmao at Apollo and Athena's first meeting. Her overhead throw of a policeman right on to Apollo is a wonderful way to meet haha! Athena is only 18?! And I thought Apollo being 23 was young lol.

Detective Fulbright is...a character all right lol. I guess they kinda upgraded the examining part of investigations? Kinda nice to have different views of the same place to get a more dynamic view of everything. Simon Blackquill, the prosecutor for this case is a convicted murderer?! How very interesting indeed. I have to say that the best upgrade is not having to go to specific places to access certain areas because that was annoying hahaha! Florent looks hellaaa creepy and ugly LOL. I agree with Apollo that this place is crawling with monsters hahahaha, all these weird people lmao. Anyway, this guy has only said a few things but I'm already tired and annoyed with him. It's actually cute how worried Tenma is for his daughter while he's in jail, he's a good doting father haha.

Oh, Blackquill is currently in jail?? Loll, there's no issues with a prosecutor sitting in jail and going to trial!? Wildddd. Lmao he's even got the shackles still on him hahahahha. I died at Blackquill calling the Judge Your Baldness hahahahah. Lmao Blackquill has a hawk that lives in the court and attacks Apollo when he's trying to use his bracelet hahahaha. I love how Taka, the hawk attacked the tanuki witness because of his lies and then the witness ran away hahahahaha. Blackquill is seriously dangerous though hahahaha, he can break his shackles, which was expected, but he actually has his blade with him or his skill in the sword is enough to imitate a sword which is honestly dangerous enough?! Lolll! I love how when Blackquill laughs, Taka laughs too hahahha, that's so cute. It's actually hilarious how both Athena and Apollo thought they dug their own graves when Jinxie said she didn't see Tenma Taro in the room, and then Blackquill was like let me push you on in hahahaha. Lmao at the comment in the audience gallery saying Apollo's massive forehead is more attractive now after he overturned something Blackquill said hahahhaha.

The yokai possession thing was definitely not something I expected lol. But I guess that's because it's been so long, I've forgotten all about the supernatural and possession stuff in the original trilogy hahaha. As for Florent, lmao at those shoulder pads being cellphones, legit LOLed. Okay, I got tricked by the yokai thing after all hahaha, I guess it was nice that it was all "fake" in that sense. This case was definitely much longer and more convoluted than I expected and I honestly didn't think Filch would be Tenma Taro especially since the costume is quite big and I didn't expect him to be able to wear that but I guess he's a thief so I guess so? Anyway, I thought the case was unnecessarily convoluted and kinda weakly executed with how things went? I wasn't surprised that in the end, The Amazing Nine Tails was actually Tenma but I didn't think there was really that necessary of a reason to kill the Alderman because a lot of the time I was like but why?? Anyway, I also didn't really like the Jinxie confession thing, but yeah I guess my main issue was just the whole flow of the case and how long it took. However, I surprisingly quite liked Florent! I liked all his movements and how exaggerated, egocentric and weird he was. I actually think he was wasted on a boring case LOL.

Episode 3 - Turnabout Academy

Aristotle Means is terrifying lol. That smile especially omg lol. How interesting that there's a lawyer course, prosecutor course and a judge course. I would have assumed that's something that branches later on. Lmao at the lawyer course teaching the correct arm angle to shout "objection" HAHAHA. A very useful training seminar indeed. I guess the prosecutor course teaches them how to hit/attempt to kill the defence attorney😂 Ohh Juniper is a senior in the judge course! How interesting! She's the Student Council President?! I definitely didn't expect that! It's also really interesting how she's involved in a love triangle with Hugh and Robin who are the top students in the lawyer and prosecutor course respectively.

Lmao at Athena being surprised that Apollo had friends when he was young😂 I guess the interesting thing is that Junie was actually a suspect for two cases, the poor girl! I didn't expect to meet Klavier here and omg he looks old in 3D?? They really massacred my boy because omg his face and everything is terrifying!! Ooh the victim was Klavier's mentor... Everyone's mentor seems to either die or be a criminal so I guess good luck to Phoenix hahahaha. The stage that they were going to sing on was pretty cool though, just like a courtroom, the Klavier and Phoenix statues are kinda cute, I wonder if the murderer hated them or something since they're broken now lol. I love the mock mock trial. It's hilarious how well Athena is doing as a fake defendant and judge hahahaha. Lmao at Scuttlebutt whose a witness and is basically a cardboard box. Wow, Hugh was insane enough to ignore a dead body just to go through with the mock trial so he can win and confess to Junie?! What is wrong with these people and the academy?! I'm still wondering how someone could drop a body from the third floor on to a mat without anyone seeing or knowing. That's crazy, and how could they so accurately drop it as well? How did they move the mat back without anyone noticing either? This mat is a high jump mat, it's basically a gigantic bed isn't it?! Awww how cute that Robin, Hugh and Junie promised to overcome the dark age of the law as lawyer, prosecutor and judge. Very interesting that Junie actually revised the script to favour the prosecution but then got caught by Professor Courte, the victim and she changed it back.

I love Taka presenting evidence for Blackquill to read and giving it to the others lol, it's so cute. It's actually kinda funny how Apollo thinks it's funny how Blackquill makes digs at Athena hahahaha. Poor Athena. Is Robin actually..a girl?? Lmao when Apollo said Robin can't be a girl because he's never seen one that shouts like a maniac all the time😂😂 LMAO at how even Blackquill is so shocked at the reveal, I mean I didn't expect the girliness either HAHAHAH😂😂 LOL I die at the glass shoe expression, it's hilarious. HAHAHA when you press Hugh, Athena asks if he meditates often and he thinks she's one of those fangirls wanting to know about this schedule😂😂 and even the judge is like this is a court of law, not a pick up spot hahahahahha. I wasn't expecting them three to all try and cover for each other and say they're the killer though. I think it's sweet of Junie to believe in her friends just as Athena believes in her. I actually got so caught up in the case, I forgot about our suspicious Aristotle haha!

I can't believe Professor Courte asked Junie to be a snitch and that she might have been blackmailing Hughes?! I was wondering why Hugh was operating a crane but he does it as a part time job?! I can see why he wanted to hide the fact that he's actually 25 years old omg lol. Lmao when Blackquill said they needed an ambulance for Hugh because he's raving mad after saying he's the killer and that he had a body double at the mock trial hahahaha. I actually feel bad for Hugh that he actually never knew about the bribery for perfect test scores and that it was only recently that he found out that it was his parents doing it. I really enjoy the friendship between the three of them, and I really liked that nice touch of all of them holding on to their friendship band when they get pressured. The only thing I'm iffy about is that Hugh really got the crappy end of the deal having his on his neck hahahah! Everyone's band is like on a normal part of the body and it looks fine but OMG on his neck, it legit looks like a sex toy of some sort especially that colour LMAO. Poor Hugh, please tell them to get a different design, it's literally a collar lmao.

I like how the tape recorder thing was 10 minutes and 35 seconds and that was our clue to show that Aristotle's speech was pre-recorded because I didn't notice haha! I mean, it's a nice way to twist it to make it that the stage was really the murder scene but if the Gavinners banner soaked up enough blood for him to wipe it on the floor as if it was the first crime scene, how could Aristotle have used the wire to move it up there without it getting dirty at all? Anyway, the witnesses are such good people to come and encourage Athena when she doubted herself, the unity was cute.

Honestly, I think the last bit was a bit lacking and didn't flow as well as the other parts, and kinda rushed to the ending but I guess it was still decent in a sense lol. I still think the case kinda fell off when the stage was the actual scene of murder after establishing everything before that and then trying to make this make sense instead when I feel like I had trouble with that. I'm glad Klavier got to play a song with Junie in memory of Professor Courte's efforts in the school festival. But I'm glad all's well ends well. It's also kinda cute how what Hugh wanted to confess about if he won the mock trial was that he was 25 and not a genius lmao. Overall, the third case is definitely my favourite for now hahaha, but Ted Tonate from the first case was such a funny guy. But yeah, I think there was an opportunity for Klavier to be the prosecutor here which was sad. Robin was probably my favourite though hahaha, the sudden change from boy to girl was hilarious and I loved everyone's reactions to it when they all thought she was oozing testosterone😂😂 The repetitiveness of "the end justifies the means" did kill the vibe alot though along with the dark age of the law that I really wanted to stop hearing hahahah. I also wasn't too sure about the tying up the body to look like Phoenix's statue even though it was an interesting idea. Definitely some suspicious vibes lmao and I really couldn't take the end of the case seriously because it was funny and silly. Otherwise, the characters were definitely the most fun part of this case.

#phoenix wright ace attorney #apollo justice #ace attorney #dual destinies

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duhragonball · 10 months ago

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November Plannin'

All right, I've been thinking it over, and I think I'm gonna have to pull the plug on my NaNoWriMo account. The AI thing irks me, because to me the organization seems to think that it doesn't matter if you use Chat GPT or some other damn thing to reach the goal. And I do think it matters, because to me the whole point of the exercise is that those 50,000 words come from me, and me alone. The only software I need is Notepad.exe. I only downloaded iA Writer because it was like a Notepad.exe for my phone, and I got FocusWriter because it's like Notepad.exe with a wordcounter.

I've heard about the Nano community, and the writing groups, and the public meet-ups, and I'm not knocking any of that stuff, but I never had any interest in that. I just used the website to keep score, and I guess that's what bugs me, because by refusing to condemn AI, they're basically insinuating that the score doesn't matter. "It doesn't matter what you wrote." Someone told me that once and it still gets me kinda hot.

NaNoWriMo doesn't care if I write the words or not. All the org seems to care about is having participants who'll buy the merch and click on their sponsors, or whatever. They're gonna do this shady crap and they take the participants for granted. "What are you gonna do? Leave? You need us to reach your writing goals!"

That's the message I get from them. That's what made me reluctant to decide, because it is handy, and there's a certain anxiety that if I give up the structure the site offers, I might not reach my goal.

And that's the "creative monster" I need to slay this year. When I was in college, I took a semester of creative writing, and there was an assignment called "Killing the Creative Monster", and I interpreted it as a sense of not having enough time to write. Things kept happening, and the stuff I wanted to do seemed like it would take too long with no certainty that it would be worthwhile. That was in 1998. In 2024, the Creative Monster is the idea that I'm dependent on NanoWriMo to get me where I'm want to be.

So I'm gonna close down my account on the site. But I'm not doing it right away, because first I'm gonna save all the stats and stuff that belong to me. We'll start with the banner image I put up on my profile.

This is Zack Sabre Junior. This year, he won the G1 Climax tournament. He made a big deal about how his career wouldn't be complete until he won the G1. Not just any G1, but this year's tournament. I just put this picture in my profile because I was digging his tag team stuff with Taichi a few years ago, but suddenly I'm reminded of him winning the G1 this year. It was a big deal. He's the first guy to win that I actually wanted to win.

I've won NanoWriMo seven times from 2017 to 2023. But that doesn't matter. Unless I win Unaffiliated Autumnal Writing Challenge (UAWC) in 2024, I'll always feel a bit unsatisfied. That's what this one is about. No pep talks from some author I never heard of because I'm too busy watching anime to read. No funky word-count widget that always malfunctions around midnight. Just me and this computer, and a bunch of tekkers. That's how we're gonna do this one.

Good. I finally feel fired up about this one. I was beginning to get nervous. Let's figure out what I need to work on.

Luffa Annual 6. Ironically, this one actually takes priority over the main fic, becuase it's the Christmas Special, so it has a hard deadline. I was gonna work on it last week, but I kind of blew it off.

I don't know that the annuals are all that popular, but I enjoy making them, even if they are a huge pain in the butt to figure out. I'm glad this is the last one in the set, but I won't just slap it together and call it good.

Tellurium. This is a weird side-bet I'm making here. On my main blog, I used to do a series on the discovery of the chemical elements, and this was the next one on my list back in, uh... 2016. The tricky thing here is that the writing is just part of the job. There's research that goes into this stuff, and I don't want to get lose a days' worth of wordcount trying to wrap my head around molecular orbitals. Call me a glutton for punishment. It'd be relatively easy to just do 10-12 Luffa chapters and call it a month, because I've done that before. I feel like this year needs to be trickier. Also, I really, really want to get Te in the books. I don't think I like the chemical elements more than Luffa, but it is telling that I'm even having that conversation with myself right now.

Luffa 225-234. Of course I still plan to stick with what brung me to the dance. Kakarot is behind me but this fic isn't finished. The problem is that I only have a nebulous plan on where to go from here, and it's coming together a lot more gradually than I thought it would. I plotted a cool scene on my commute this afternoon, so that's a good sign, but I need to be realistic here. Last year went really well because I was writing the Luffa vs. Goku fight that I had been dreaming of for years. Motivation-wise, I've got nowhere to go but down. But I had similar problems in 2018-2020, and I prevailed then.

That Bulma project I was horsing around with. Last year, there was some crank on Twitter getting pissy at anyone who shipped Bulma with any non-canon partners, like there's a rule or something. That kind of inspired me to try to do some shorter works featuring Bulma hooking up with different characters. I didn't get very far last year, but I liked having a side-thing that I could jump into whenever I got stuck with the main work.

You know, thinking about it, I really need to use 2025 to work on some non-Luffa fanfic. In the early years, I worried that working on a longfic would eat up time that I could use for one-shots, and I slowly acclimated to just focusing one thing. But now that the Goku fight is done, the pressure is off to finish Luffa before I die. I mean, it's still not finished, but the Goku fight was a major milestone, and I didn't like the idea of never getting that done.

I mean, I still get kudos on that Caulikale fic I wrote in 2018, and the Gochi thing I did. People like that stuff, and I'm pretty good at making it. Maybe I should run a poll.

I dunno, that's probably enough for now. I should go back to bed. But I feel a lot better about November than I did a few days ago, that's for sure.

#unaffiliated autumnal writing challenge #next year i should just change the dates so it's october 20 to november 19 #that just works way better for me #that wednesday before thanksgiving is useless for writing goals #i don't even have far to travel for the holiday it's just not a day where there's much alone time #maybe dust off that bulchi thing...? we'll see...

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uriahblack · 2 months ago

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#SimsByNight | Episode 4: "Digging for the Past" #VTM

← PREVIOUS | TABLE OF CONTENTS| BEGINNING | NEXT →

Credits:

UI Widget style templates by: @awkwardwhims

Pose by: @xiuminuwu

Suzana’s coiffeur: @arenetta

Rebecca wears: @sentate

Rebecca’s coiffeur: @simcelebrity00

Amy wears: @sentate

Amy’s coiffeur: @bustedpixels

Archaeology Kit 2 by: @simsonianlibrary

SCENE 1: FORGOTTEN HOLLOW*

"Remind me why I’m doing manual labor?"

"Because Lacroix knows you’ll bitch about it. That’s the fun part."

*Plus an uptade on Rebecca's Aspiration

SCENE 2: WINDENBURG VON HAUNT ESTATE

"Ugh, my nails are ruined. If this crest isn’t bedazzled, I’m faking its existence."

This is a 17th-century spoon. Lacroix better want a full table setting.

SCENE 3: SAN MYSHUNO MEADOWS

"Coordinates lead to a sewer. Either Lacroix is mocking us, or the elves had terrible taste."

"Smells like rat blood and bad decisions. Leo’s old hangout?"

SCENE 4: BRITECHESTER SPRITES GARDEN

"Why do we have to excavate at the sprites garden? That’s a sacred place for the…"

“For the what?”

“Nevermind”

"This better be worth a Toreador breaking a nail.

SCENE 5: THE VERDICT

"Genuine Effenmontian heraldry. Also... enchanted. Lacroix forgot to mention that, didn’t he?"

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here-be-dragons-and-whatnot · 2 months ago

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Some useful, free rigging tools for Blender

All the rig stuff has me looking into tools to make it easier, and I found a few worth sharing. (it might take a minute for the GIFs to load)

BoneWidget: This add-on automates the process of assigning widget shapes to bones. Normally this requires you to either make or import a control shape and then dig trough menus to assign it to your bone. The add-on does it in one easy process--plus it comes with a bunch of shapes already built in!

2. Bone and Vertex Group Merge: The function is pretty straight forward with this one. Sometimes it's helpful to reduce bone count when porting a model to a game engine (or just trying to simplify a rig), and this add-on lets you do it in one click.

3. VRM Add-on for Blender: This add-on is meant for making 3D Vtubers straight out of Blender--a real gift if you don't want to mess with Unity. But it has one glorious rigging option that makes it worth the install, and that is a Humanoid rig that is ready to go with one click. All the bones are named and parented properly, so if you plan on exporting to a game engine this will save you the trouble of building (or appending) a rig.

#blender #resource #blender add-on #3d rigging #tutorial

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the-bar-sinister · 1 year ago

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In Justice We Trust (126233 words) by thesavagesabretooth

catch up here.

With Simon Blackquill and Athena Cykes assigned as their psychologists, the Phantom and Fulbright must grapple with their identity, their deeds, their future, and their love for the twisted samurai whom they betrayed.

All the while, Edgeworth and Wright find their relationship tested as they walk the narrow path between pursuing real justice, and the dark age of the law.

December 25, 12:55 pm

It was Apollo Justice.

He was wearing a long red coat that she vaguely remembered shoving in his suitcase, and a black shirt and vest. He absolutely radiated anger– but the quiet kind– like the low warmth of the dying embers of a once roaring fire.

Athena sunk into her chair with the intention to vanish into a ball before he could see her, the simmering anger flickering through her own emotions and leaving her feeling coiled and nervy as Edgeworth.

"Well, you've found me," Edgeworth nodded. He sighed deeply. "I was hoping to speak with you today. Frankly– I was hoping to speak with you yesterday. But things happened the way they happened. I won't make excuses. Would you like me to dismiss Ms. Cykes?"

"Huh?" Apollo's attention abruptly snapped to her– he hadn't noticed her before. "Oh. Hey. Athena."

She stifled the keening sound she wanted to make, before putting on her mask’s best smile “Hey Apollo! You look..”

She looked him over, again. “Love the new look! Haha..” she was still half scrunched in the chair.

"Thanks for packing for me," he said dully. He took off the coat and threw it over as he sat down at the table. "She can stay– assuming you want to talk, Athena."

Athena’s smile took on a nervous grimace, her fingers digging into the cloth of her pants…pants still smudged with ashes from the scene of the crime.

“You’re welcome, hah…su-sure. I’ll stay. I’m great at talking, you know that!”

"One of the best." Apollo smiled tightly. His emotions were an intense tangle behind the coals of his anger. He took a breath. "Alright, so. Anything you want to say, Mr. Edgeworth? Cause I've got a hell of a lot I'd like to say."

Edgeworth took his glasses off and set them on the table. Sadness and anxiety were written in his tone. "Absolutely yes, Mr. Justice. The first thing I'd like to say is I'm sorry. Deeply sorry. My failure to keeping you in the loop of information was inexcusable."

Athena took a deep breath as she shifted back up in her seat and folded her hands on her lap. At the very least…maybe she could direct the emotions of the room towards a better end than if she was gone.

"Yeah," Apollo huffed. He took another steadying breath, as Athena felt the tumult in his heart roil again. "I'll say it was pretty damned inexcusable. –thank you for apologizing at least, I guess."

"I owe you a great deal more than an apology," Edgeworth murmured. "But it's all that I can offer right now– aside from answering your questions and bringing you into the loop now."

"Good because there's a lot of points I'm real unclear on."

There was something odd about Apollo's tone. Maybe it was just how angry he was– how angry he'd been– all the grief and anguish that still flashed back and forth within him, but it wasn't sitting right with Athena.

Athena frowned…and quietly turned Widget’s display onto the mood matrix. For the moment, she didn’t interrupt, only listening…at least until she knew how to start.

"I imagine so," Edgeworth nodded. "I'm told you had an altercation in the dining hall this morning– I assume because you discovered that the espionage agent formerly known as Bobby Fulbright was there."

"Yeah. I sure did." He took another breath. "I got… pretty upset about it. I'm sorry to say."

The mood matrix was registering– a lot, really. Practically every emotion except happiness. But they kept juttering up and down.

Athena’s brow knit, but she kept her emotions steady as she looked up at Apollo again.

She’d known Apollo for a little while by that point, and his emotions had never been like this. Grief was one thing…but this was something else entirely.

Something she only saw in the strongest discord…or in the erratic not-so-final confrontation only a few days ago.

"I can understand you getting upset. It's upsetting. I had wanted to tell you in private, but things got away from me. That's my fault, and I harmed you by it," Edgeworth acknowledged. He was quite the diplomat– it was clear why he'd been made chief prosecutor.

"Thanks, Mr. Edgeworth, for acknowledging that." There was a flicker of a positive emotion on the mood matrix chart– relief, satisfaction?-- but it was immediately swallowed up by another one of anger. It was like his emotions were pingponging back and forth.

"It must have been a shock. Since the Phantom was reported dead. Unfortunately– that was part of our own espionage operation of a sort. With the intent to chase down the man's former organization."

"I get that but–" he started plaintively, but abruptly his tone, and the whole direction of his sentence changed. "So because you need him, you just let him have his job back? A murderer? The guy who killed–" He stopped, biting back the rest of whatever he was going to say.

Athena was getting a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. This abrupt, violent shaking back and forth of emotions….the sudden shifts in tone and direction…the way he seemed almost at war with his own emotions, stopping his own sentences and veering off elsewhere…

It was familiar.

She’d seen it recently in a different form.

“Apollo…”

He didn't respond quite immediately– as if it took him a moment to remember to.

He turned toward her. "Yeah, Athena?"

She took a deep breath.

“I know you’re upset…but would you mind if I suggested a little therapy?”

Apollo looked uncomfortable, and she could see his emotions warring back and forth with themselves on the screen.

Finally he shrugged. "If I say no, then you're going to think I really need therapy, aren't you?" He sighed. "You're right– I am upset. I feel like I have a right to be."

“Of course you do. He took something from you that you can never get back…” She tapped the screen to focus in on him.

“And here he is, back in his old job. It’s got to be difficult..right?” Even if she didn’t feel the same way– even if she couldn’t be angry at him– even if she found herself understanding and understood by the self-described ‘abyss’ who was anything but…

She knew the usual instinct of the human psyche was anger and hurt in the face of grief and death.

“But the problem is you’re…” she took a deep breath. “you’re of two minds about it, Apollo. Or rather…you have multiple distinct emotional threads running concurrently and butting up against one another…the evidence is there, how you keep interrupting yourself…and how you keep rapidly changing tracks of conversation. You did the same thing when I had to physically get in your way to stop you from hitting the detective.”

Edgeworth was letting the two of them talk. The chief prosecutor sat back, watching and listening, reminding Athena a little of the judge in court.

"I'm of two minds about it," Apollo repeated. She watched his emotions flicker and flash again. "Yeah, okay. I'm not going to deny that. Feelings are complicated."

“Very complicated, Apollo,” Athena said carefully. “but the mood matrix is registering a lot of erratic discord. So…how about you tell me what’s on your mind? How do you feel about Halblicht’s presence here? The guy who killed….” she gestured. “Lay it all out.”

"I don't…" he shifted uncomfortably. "I don't really want to talk about it. I'm.. upset. I'm hurt. I'm– I'm really fucking pissed about it, okay?"

Athena’s eyes stayed on the mood matrix “You’re my friend, Apollo.” she said quietly “I won’t pry if you really, really don’t want me to. You just seem like you’re struggling.”

‘Struggling alone’ was in debate at the moment.

"Yeah," he admitted, hanging his head. "I don't know what to do, Athena. I don't– I feel like my whole life's been thrown into chaos, Athena. Like I don't even know up from down any more. One minute I'm angry, the next I'm crying. And the next I'm just…. fine. Like usual. I'm just– I'm falling apart. I'm sorry, Mr. Edgeworth, I know you wanted to count on me but I feel like I'm clinging onto a cliff by my fingernails, trying not to get sucked into hell."

Miles held up his hands. "Please, Apollo, don't apologize to me. I'm the one who should apologize to you– and even more profusely than before."

The mood matrix reflected Apollo's words. He was truthful about his feelings.But they were all over the place. And underlying them was a strong current of anxiety that he had yet to acknowledge at all.

“It’s been a destabilizing few days, Apollo…I know that, I’m dealing with all the memories of the night my mother died…” She smiled at him despite the air of turmoil. “It’s natural to feel confused, lost and adrift in your own emotions. But you’ve got people who’ll keep you from falling into hell. Promise…”

She took a deep breath “on that note, there’s something else… a strong note of anxiety that pervades everything you’re saying…”

The anxiety flicked higher– his eyes widened and he looked for a brief moment like a cornered animal before he composed himself.

He looked over at Edgeworth. "Sir, I– I have more I want to talk to you about. More questions– but could you give me a moment alone with Athena?"

The prosecutor nodded gravely, and gathered up his papers, shutting them in his briefcase. "Of course, Apollo. Again, I'm so sorry to have asked so much of you, and to have wronged you the way I did. Please come see me in my room and I'll explain all the details, and answer any questions you have."

Apollo managed a shaky smile, but there was no joy in it. "Sure, see you in a few."

He nodded, and headed toward the exit. "Ms. Cykes– there's nothing more I needed to say that's so urgent it can't wait til tomorrow, but my door is open to you, too, if you need anything."

Athena gave Miles a timid smile, nodding her head. “Of course…we’ll finish catching up soon , sir. Thanks for the talk.”

With that, she typed a few commands into the mood matrix and prepared herself.

Edgeworth quietly saw himself out of the room and closed the door behind him. Apollo's hands were shaking on the tabletop, and he took deep, slow breaths that didn't seem to calm him down any. His leg was restlessly bouncing up and down under the table– a nervous tic she'd never seen him do before, until a few days prior.

It was another piece of data she added to the mood matrix, the sinking pit in her stomach opening all the wider.

“Apollo…?”

He snapped his gaze back up to her, and took one more breath. "Yeah. So… you asked about that anxiety…"

“Yeah, I did…it’s been pretty constant since I started analyzing your emotions.”

He swallowed, laying his shaking hands flat on the table.

"Athena– I'm worried I'm going crazy. Like– like really actually crazy. I keep– I keep hearing his voice. And sometimes it feels like he's the one doing things and I'm just watching. And he's so angry…"

Athena listened carefully, glancing down at the mood matrix, before looking up at Apollo again.

“You hear his voice? And sometimes it’s like he’s in control, and you’re the passenger?”

Apollo looked away. "Sorry. I shouldn't say things like that. I mean, not literally. It's just the grief talking."

The mood matrix was suddenly blasted with distortion.

“Ahh!” Athena quickly tapped at it. “Apollo…”

She took a deep breath before she leaned forward. “I believe you. And I don’t think you’re crazy…I think it might be more than just grief. I’ve seen this recently, something very similar at least.”

He looked back toward her cautiously. His eyes were dark, and stormy. "What do you mean?"

“This sort of emotional response. This sort of division…and ah, this sort of ‘hearing a dead man’s voice in your head’.” she brushed her fingers over the mood matrix. “Whatever the source of it, it’s no less real as far as your experiences, and the data does line up…look at the way your mood matrix splits…”

He scooted his chair over, and looked at the data. "It's weird looking at my own mood matrix like that– makes me feel like I'm a suspect or something."

His emotions shifted and shuttered on the screen even as he spoke and watched.

Athena chuckled softly. “No, she’s in custody right now. you missed the show.” She bumped his shoulder against his with a gentle smile “but look at it…see what I mean? It’s not the same as when we see discord in the courtroom.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about that, missing it. I– I went to talk to Klavier. I wish I could say it helped. But– yeah. I see what you mean."

“Oh yeah…he’s here for a commercial.” She rubbed her neck in an unconscious mirror of his own movements. “Anyway, it’s alright. I’ll fill you in later, it’s…a lot. It actually has some to do with some of the stuff I’ve been meaning to tell you about …about Halblicht.”

She shook her head. “but a-anyway! I’ve seen this sort of division before…and it turned out in that case to really be the presence of two distinct personas in one mind.”

He jerked backwards. "Athena, I know I said I felt like I was going crazy but I was really hoping you wouldn't confirm it!"

“It could be a ghost?” Athena offered with a lopsided smile. “...but in all seriousness, even if it was something cognitive it doesn’t make you ‘crazy’. It’s just a thing that is. The real issue is his anger…it’s driving you to violence and erratic decisions, so we’d have to find a way to soothe it and bring some harmony to your mental state. Ease the discord.”

"A ghost– hah– you're the second person who said that to me," he said, looking at the table. "Trucy said Pearl thought I was possessed…."

“It is a legal precedent, admittedly. We’ve both like, met the girl who’s trial it was in. Personally.”

"That's… true," he said slowly. "But– not to be mean but– they're kind of religious fanatics, you know? I won't speak to the legal precedent but, it's a lot to swallow. Even if I want to believe it."

“I think Miss Iris is lapsed…” she paused for a moment to rub her chin “lapsed…can you lapse at being a spirit medium? Either way I wouldn’t call her a fanatic…and they got footage of it in the archives!”

She shook her head. “But all of that’s not the point…maybe it is real…maybe it’s not. You can talk to Pearl about it I’m sure. But either way there’s clearly something happening , Apollo. If you’re hearing Clay…I believe you. But you need to address this, or his anger’s going to tear you apart. Okay?”

He nodded, and his hair fell over his eyes. "I know. It's hard because he wants to be angry. He feels justified in being angry, and I.. I feel angry on his behalf too. But it's so much. I don't want to lash out and hurt people….. he's quiet now. I think talking about it scares him."

“I promise I’m not trying to banish him or anything like that.” Athena promised “...I just want to help. He’s justified in being angry, I believe he’s angry…It’s…just complicated.”

"If I'm honest, he was kind of pissed you defended the Phantom this morning. I'm just… confused, Athena. I'm really confused. And I think that's why it's easy to let him make decisions. Because I don't feel like I know what the hell is going on."

Athena ran her hand through her hair with a subtle frown. “

...he can be pissed at me if he wants, but I wouldn’t change my decision..” she shook her head. “...you feel lost, and he’s got his anger, so it’s easier to let him make decisions. It makes sense..” She bit her lip ‘would it help if I explained some of what’s been happening with me? For context on what happened this morning.”

"Maybe? I mean, I want to know. It just seems so insane to me. He– he killed your mom, Athena. I know it was a long time ago, but, if somebody did something like that to me, I don't think I could ever forgive them."

Athena twisted her ponytail around her hand.

“It’s not like I’m not upset…or that the grief is any further away. I didn’t remember any of it until a few days ago, and I can see it clear as day when I close my eyes.”

She watched Apollo’s mood matrix instead of his face. “I just can’t find it in my heart to be angry at Robert for it. It doesn’t register…especially now that I understand..” she paused, omitting her admission that she understood the phantom and replacing it– “where he came from.”

"Where did he come from?" Apollo asked earnestly. She could see the anger burbling up in his mood matrix, despite it being hidden in his voice. "What could possibly be enough to override all that– everything he did, Athena?"

Athena noted the shift in tone and word choice with a tap on the Mood Matrix.

She took a deep breath. If Apollo was going to be her co-counsel, he had to know. “The organization that the phantom and our new custody..our client, Number 24…the girl who’d killed and replaced Agent Kelso, are from, didn’t hire them. It made them.”

She brushed her fingers together in a nervous gesture, frowning as she did. Widget flashed a deep blue upon her chest before she spoke again. “The Phantom was a child in a training facility that did all it could to beat the personality and emotion out of their assets, and turn them into the sorts of people who could wear any face, anywhere, for their purposes. They weren’t allowed to have names, or preferences, or opinions. They turned humans into tools, Apollo. Expendable.

The Phantom didn’t have any malice when he killed my mother, or Clay…he didn’t want to, but he never had a choice in anything his whole life until now.”

"That's…" Apollo stammered. "You're kidding– right? That's just a lie? That can't be true."

On the mood matrix his emotions were going haywire again.

Athena watched the emotions carefully.

“It’s true, Apollo. I’ve had extensive interviews with him and I’m comfortable saying it’s the truth. Not only that…but ‘Number 24’, our client, mirrors him in a lot of ways. I’m certain we’ll get a similar story out of her.”

She placed her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him “that’s the sort of organization we’re hunting.”

"But that's… no. He's– he's evil James Bond," Apollo faltered and Athena watched his emotions war with one another, sadness and anxiety spiking, then anger, then back again. "It's spy business isn't it? Not spy slavery! Who would come up with something like that? That can't be–"

“Apollo…Clay?” Athena bit her lip. “You saw his emotional matrix at the trial, didn’t you? It wasn’t as if he had no emotions. It wasn’t a natural state. They were there, but beaten down into something the organization could use. Everything in my therapy sessions has been consistent with this, and I believe him when he tells me about his past.”

She took a deep breath. “But evidence is everything, right? If our client can be convinced to talk, would you accept her testimony? You have no personal stake with her, no grudge because of an unfair death, and she has no reason to lie.”

Apollo– or probably Clay– shuddered bodily, like an involuntary spasm and gripped the table. He took a heaving breath. "Alright– alright. Yeah. Evidence. If the… client… confirms it the I– I'm not going to forgive him, but I won't. –I don't think I can be angry about it if it was something like that."

“Good…” Athena smiled gently. “I’ll see if we can arrange a talk with her…she’s under supervision right now by Interpol b-because she attempted to execute herself the moment she was caught.”

She felt the prickle of anxiety and horror up her back as she remembered the spiking emotions and the gun once more.

“But I think we’ll be allowed…and if it helps your anger, good. You don’t need to forgive him, neither of you. You just–I just want everyone to understand what we’re dealing with here.”

He leaned backward, and crossed his arms– more like he was putting them around himself again like she'd seen before. "She tried to kill herself? That's… some dedication…"

Hugging himself, or…something similar. It made sense if what she had gleaned from his emotional state was right.

“Immediately. When they tried to tell her to stand down, she told us that Halblicht knew it wasn’t an option…she felt something for the first time I’d known her, intense fear and despair, and then she put the gun to her head.”

She bit her lip. “Detective Halblicht…’the Phantom’ saved her life by jumping in the way and knocking the gun away. She was the one who shot him, Justice. Back at the courtroom, and he still saved her life. She was trying to do the same thing to herself, just as her handlers probably demanded.”

"She was the one who shot him. And he tried to save her life," he repeated. He took a deep, shuddering breath. "You've given me a lot to think about, Athena. As usual."

Athena put her hand on his shoulder again and gave it a firm squeeze.

“I know…I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you, Apollo. It’s been…it’s been a heck of a few days.” She gave him a smile. “Think it through, okay? And when you’re ready, let me know. But you know I’m always there for you, right? If you need me, just ask.”

He leaned into her hand and nodded. "Thanks, Athena. Thanks a lot."

December 25, 1:25 pm

Miles had his paperwork spread out over the desk in his hotel room, and rocked the chair gently back and forth on its hinge as he looked his papers over. Gumshoe was out– working with Badd, he was pretty certain– and he was alone with himself and his thoughts.

He was doing his best not to dwell on his mistakes. To move forward and make certain he didn't make any more. But it was hard– and that was why the words on the page were glazing over when he managed to look at them, probably.

At least he'd gotten some sleep last night. Thank lady justice.

There was a sharp knock at the door, and he immediately answered "Come in."

To his surprise, not who he'd been expecting.

It was Phoenix. He didn't look entirely pleased.

"Phoenix," Miles greeted, taking off his largely pointless now reading glasses. "I was expecting Apollo Justice."

"Really? Good to know, because I came to talk about Apollo Justice."

Miles grimaced. He'd been afraid of that

"Yes, that's not surprising. Come on, sit down, Wright– go ahead and lay into me about it."

With his hands on his knees, he waited for Phoenix to start in on him.

There was a long, silent moment where the two men stared at each other. Phoenix was still standing by the door.

Finally he spoke.

"Well, Edgeworth, it sounds like you already know you fucked up."

Miles took a deep breath, his hands tightening on his knees. "Obviously. It's one of my worse blunders. It's… thrown my judgment into question in my mind."

"Then I'm not going to repeat what you already know, Miles. I'm not going to make you explain yourself to me, or justify your behavior, or beg my forgiveness. Though I hope that you will or have done so with Apollo at least."

Phoenix's tone was rough. It was hard to listen to. Miles wished that he had maliciously withheld the information from Apollo instead of simply forgetting to tell him.

A sin was forgivable. A mistake, never.

He reminded himself that Phoenix Wright was not Manfred Von Karma.

"Mr. Justice and I just spoke on it," Miles explained. "I intend to explain myself further, but he's currently having a session with Ms. Cykes, which is probably for the best."

Phoenix finally came and sat down on the bed. "Athena's talking to him? Good. She's holding up to this thing you've put on them a damned lot better than Apollo is."

"I know." Edgeworth sagged. "I spoke to her, too. Part of the problem is that unshakable front that Justice puts up. I suppose I let myself buy into the idea that he would be fine."

"And he's not fine."

"He is so not fine, Wright. He reminds me of myself after I lost my father. He's older, but–"

"Yeah," Phoenix sighed. "I wasn't there, but I think I can understand what you mean.:"

Miles leaned forward toward him in the chair, his shoulders slumped. "Obviously I don't know him as well as you do, but he seems… lost, Phoenix. I feel responsible."

"For not telling him? We all make mistakes, Miles. This was a pretty bad one, but–"

"For that," Miles cut him off, "but for… more than that, too."

Phoenix's expression shifted from tense irritation– to concern. He cocked his head at Miles and reached out to him. "Hey, come here. Sit with me."

Stiffly, Miles lurched up and came and sat on the bed, slumping halfway across Phoenix's body.

"What's up, Miles?" he asked, brushing his hand across his cheek.

Miles leaned into him, drawing some comfort from the touch, despite his worry in bringing up the topic. "I– Phoenix– I worry that it's my fault that Apollo's friend died in the first place. That his death is on my hands."

"What?"

Miles felt Phoenix stiffen, and the reaction made him wince. He closed his eyes.

"You know my office had been trying to flush out the Phantom this whole last year. That's why I had Blackquill start prosecuting cases again. And all this time he was right under our noses but– but that's not the point."

"What is the point, Miles?" Phoenix asked slowly. His touch softened again, and he gave him a look of probing concern.

"The point is that I knew that the Phantom might show up. I knew there was a solid chance that he would," Miles' voice croaked out of his throat. "I could have done anything, absolutely anything to make the HAT-2 mission safer for the participants. I could have told them to beef of security. I could have told them to scrub the launch. I could have fucking warned Starbuck and Terran about the possibility. But I didn't do that, Phoenix. I didn't do any of that. I was so focused on catching the Phantom, that I gambled with their lives– I traded Clay Terran's life as the price for catching the Phantom."

Miles fell against Phoenix's chest as a sudden rush of emotion heaved out of him, and he felt tears on his cheeks. Slowly, Phoenix put his arms around him, and squeezed him.

"I… never thought about that, Miles."

"Well I have!" he choked. "It isn't the Phantom that Apollo should be furious with, Phoenix. He's more tool than he is man. It's me that deserves his ire, if anyone. And I don't– I don't know what to do about that, Phoenix. I think I've been making terrible mistakes ever since I started as Chief Prosector. I don't think I deserve to be here."

Phoenix's grip on him became tighter. "Well you'd better damned well not go anywhere without taking me," he hissed. "Have you got that, Edegworth? No rash decisions. No 'Miles Edgeworth chooses death'. Do you understand that?"

Miles shuddered against Wright's chest. He knew he still hadn't been forgiven for that. He didn't expect to be. He had hurt Phoenix deeply– hurt everyone close to him deeply, when he'd done that.

"I understand." He nodded against his chest.

"Good." Phoenix ran his fingers through Miles' hair. "I'm glad we've got that cleared up. The rest, we can figure out together, okay."

"I don't know how," Miles murmured. "Politics, law enforcement– at the level that I'm at it all feels like playing with people's lives like they were pawns on a chess board, Phoenix. I don't want that– it's not who I want to be– but it's so easy to fall into that kind of thinking. Until you hurt someone."

"You're worried you might become another Damon Gant?" Phoenix said softly.

"Or worse," Miles said. He stared blankly at the fibers of Phoenix's jacket.

"Well you won't," he promised firmly. "One way or another you won't. Because if I start to see it happening, I'll pull you out of there."

"I think I'd resign today if there was anyone I trusted to do the job, Phoenix," Miles said. "That's the worst thing, is that even when I'm worried about failing utterly, I worry that anyone else would be worse. That it's a sin I have to bear until it corrupts me."

Phoenix squeezed him tight. "Lady justice, you are melodramatic as hell right now, Miles."

He looked up at him. "Phoenix, I'm serious!"

Wright touched his face again, and sighed. "I know. But you're still melodramatic. Look. You fucked up, yes. Were there things that you could have done better? Also yes. But you can't let your mistakes destroy you. You have to pick yourself up and do better. Be better. For the sake of the people that you've hurt, if nobody else."

Miles bit his lip, listening as Phoenix spoke.

"You're right, MIles, right now, this position that you're in has a lot of power. And people say that power can corrupt. But I trust you, Miles. I believe in you. If you've made mistakes it's not because there's some kind of evil growing at your heart, it's because everybody makes mistakes. And you have the responsibility, as long as you're in this position, to learn from those mistakes and use them to do better. For everybody else, but especially for yourself."

Miles wiped his face, looking up at Phoenix in half disbelief. "Since when did you get so wise, Wright?"

He smirked. "It was probably the whole raising a daughter thing. Oh and all those Spider-Man comics I read while I was disbarred."

Edgeworth laughed a sharp, pained laugh, and buried his head against Phoenix's shoulder. "Comic book wisdom. I should have known."

"Hey, as if you get to talk," Phoenix grinned. "Come on, what would the Steel Samurai do in your position?"

"Probably… try to exile himself for his sins, and then come back stronger after a pep talk from his spiritual mentor, actually," Miles mused.

"Well, for the purposes of this, you can consider me that spiritual mentor, Miles. Get back up and come back stronger."

Miles looked up at him. "Spiritual mentors are supposed to be old and wise, not handsome and smart mouthed."

"I can stop shaving again, if that will help."

Miles grabbed his jaw and pulled him into a kiss. "Don't."

Maybe Phoenix was right. Maybe mistakes couldn't be forgiven, but he had a responsibility to learn from them, instead of let them break him.

#miles edgeworth #apollo justice #phoenix wright #athena cykes #bobby fulbright #simon blackquill #ema skye #trucy wright #pearl fey #blackbright #phantomquill #ace attorney #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #archive of our own #ao3 #fic: in justice we trust #narumitsu

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