#has hypothesis must experiment

[kisakis-boyfriend]

♦️ dom/top male reader and sub choso please IMMA GO FERAL OVER THIS MAN 😵‍💫

Pairings: Choso x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Choso, bondage, nipple play

“Is it too tight, love?” came your easygoing voice from behind him, as he knelt there on the cold tile floors, bound by black rope that hugged his body in all the right places.

“No-” Choso breathed nervously. This was a whole new experience for him—playing the part of the helpless submissive. He was interested in this, but being as vulnerable as he currently is is… a little scary. Luckily, his partner plans on treating him gently, gradually touching him in more intimate places as the session goes on.

A shiver runs up Choso's spine; caused by a delicate touch making its way down his shoulder towards his elbow, brushing over the rows of rope that keep his arms bound firmly behind his back. The touch repeats a few times before smoothing down Choso's chest, just slightly grazing his nipples—an action that makes Choso flinch.

“Hm? Are we sensitive right here?” you tease, circling your thumbs around your partner's nipples and then pinching them lightly. His back arches for a brief moment, and a whimper emits from Choso's pursed lips, proving your hypothesis correct.

This is… all so new to him. There are hands touching his body softly, yet every touch causes Choso to jerk uncontrollably…? But it's not any sort of pain that he's experiencing, it's just strange… not to mention the weird feeling between his legs — a stickiness has been forming, growing more apparent as the night carries on. When your fingers clamp around his nipples, that's when Choso really feels the sticky wetness grow.

The sound of his own panting knocks Choso out of his thoughts, and, God, he must seem so pathetic to you right now– He can feel the drool spilling onto his chin, hanging there… he's painfully aware of the tight, strained sensation between his legs, and that sticky substance must be making his underwear cling to him… why does he feel inclined to rub his thighs together?

It's just a bit of fondling your pretty boy's nipples, and yet, you have him humping away at nothing while he whines and whimpers. How utterly adorable~

“Aw, honey… you are far too precious for this world.” you whispered into the crook of his neck, “Let me play with you a bit more, then I promise I'll take good care of you, alright?”

Choso groans as your lips meet his neck, leaving sweet kisses over and over again, meanwhile you're slipping one hand further down his chest, so dangerously close to his leaking member… but before you can truly touch it, you slide your hand back up and drag your nails over his abs.

—

You do start to feel bad for teasing him so much, so, after you have some fun, you eventually remove his and your bottom clothing, licking your lips at the sight of Choso's engorged cock as it drips precum. You take your position behind him once again, rubbing your dick up and down his hole in a teasing manner.

“Are you ready?”

“Pl-please…” The look in your lover's eyes told you everything you needed to know—he didn't even let you prep him, he agreed to let you lube up yourself, but he'd rather have your cock enter his virgin ass before anything else.

With a groan, you positioned your wet dick against Choso's hole, and pushed until the head popped in. The way Choso jolted has you worried for a second, but the drawn-out, whorish moan he lets out erases that worry just as fast. You feel him tighten around you, preventing you from moving until he loosens up — when he does, you slowly begin thrusting. It easily turns into something rougher; more primal than you intended. His hands may be bound now, but you're sure that if they weren't, he'd be reaching behind himself to pull you deeper inside.

Choso begs so sweetly, “Please, f-faster… aahh! Ghhnh-! I want more of you… want more of your… hah-! more of your c-cock—!”

And you can't find it in yourself to refuse him. You go from roughly thrusting the head in and out, to pushing a couple of inches further in—much to Choso's satisfaction.

“That's my boy, yeah- you like that?” Choso stutters out an 'uh-huh' along to the rhythm of your thrusting. His head hangs there while you fuck him, too lost in the ecstasy to hold himself up anymore. He's sweating and barely able to use words, but even so, a smile still finds its way on his face.

Dissatisfied with the current angle and position you're in, you try something new—pulling Choso up and flush to your chest. Now, you easily fill him with as much of your cock as his virgin hole can take. Throwing his head back onto your shoulder, Choso breathes heavily, moaning all manner of things while you speed up yet again and edge the two of you closer to your release–

“Yeah? You wanna cum, don't you?”

“Yeeeess~ Pl-please, can I?”

You pant a reply against Choso's neck, telling him to cum whenever he wants. Next thing you know, his cock is spurting cum onto his thighs and the floor. You fuck your lover through his climax, pinching his nipples and aiming your dick at his prostate. As his cries die down, you grind against him; still wrapping your arms around his torso, and ask him if he has enough energy to let you cum too.

Choso assures you that he does, and you smile and kiss his cheek before bending him forward. His cheek presses against the ground, and you work yourself back up, fucking his puffy hole until you feel like you're about to cum– It shoots onto Choso's back, some of it sliding down his ass and over his hole. You stick your cock back in, sliding in and out just a few more times, before really pulling out and sighing in relief.

[robinwinged]

escapism in "the boy and the heron"

Interrupting my regularly scheduled programming of Good Omens brainrot for this attempt to process the wonderful, fantastical, and distinctly discombobulating experience of watching Hayao Miyazaki’s “The Boy and the Heron.” 

Miyazaki’s films, at least to me, have never been straightforward to follow. Spirited Away, for example, is a beautiful masterpiece whose meaning is difficult to decipher on a first watch, and is only fully unveiled when you dive headfirst into research of Japan’s context and the movie’s many symbolic themes. The Boy and the Heron takes this typical Miyazaki complexity and ineffability and turns it up to eleven. There are so many elements that seem random, so many narrative arcs and characters all warring for attention (what is the tower? why are the parakeets so goddamn bloodthirsty? why is the blue heron such a creepy old man?), that combine to create a whimsical but overall also very strange landscape. 

I know that art in general does not have to have “meaning” or “a message” to be deserving of our love and attention. Art can be touching, affecting, disturbing, provoking - any number of things that would give it credit - and damn it if The Boy and the Heron isn’t all of these combined. But. 

But.

This is also a Miyazaki movie, and he has proven once and time again why he is the master of hidden meaning, and so here, in no particular order, are my half-formed rambles on what I have personally think each movie detail that I struggled to puzzle out initially is about. 

(spoilers below, so proceed with caution!)

The tower, time, and escapism 

The tower is the central mystery point of the movie - a literal mystical rock that crashed down from the heavens and later lured Mahito’s grand-grand uncle (let’s call him the Tower Master for convenience’s sake) into its depths. Within the tower is a mirage world filled with magic but no real living beings, controlled by the whims of the Tower Master and nothing else that remotely resembles logic or reality. The tower also contains a series of doors that seem to lead to different points in time, if the ending is to go by and how the 13 blocks are meant to be pieces of worlds the Tower Master has visited. So what is this strange and fantastic realm, and what role does it play in the overarching narrative? 

My hypothesis is that the Tower is a pocket free from the influence of time (think like the TVA in Loki) - a separate island running parallel to the fabric of the universe that contains portals to different points of past, present, and future. By itself, the pocket has no life or substance; it must be filled by the imagination - pure imagination, untethered to reality - of its main (human) inhabitant. This is why most of the ships are illusions rather than real objects, why the parakeets are so ridiculously odd and behave nothing like real

birds, why the fish is the size of Kiriko’s damn ship. Anything that is real, has to be brought in from the real world (see: the pelicans, Himi, and Kiriko). This is also why the parakeet king immediately topples the tower: yes, he is not the Tower Master’s descendant, but he is also not inherently a real sentient being, and an imaginary object cannot in itself sustain a further imagination. 

So why does the Tower Master choose to sequester himself in this alternate space, where he can only exist alone with his own mysterious creations? I think the Tower Master represents those of us who wish to escape from reality, to inhabit worlds which we can control, where pain doesn’t have to touch us if we don’t wish for it (whether I’m projecting reallyyyyy hard at this point does not matter ok). He is an insanely avid reader, with books literally piled in small mountains throughout his living quarters, and don’t we readers (i.e me, again) always wish for escapism? The Tower Master, then, is an example of those who would rather become entrapped in our own minds rather than deal with the world beyond us - maybe, even in a way, a little like Miyazaki himself, whose imagination is so powerful but is also extremely singular and all-consuming, anchoring him to his creative work without reprieve of retirement until his reserves run dry (not to imply that the man is a hermit or that I want him to retire, quite the opposite in fact, but parallels, no matter how shaky, can still be drawn). 

This, too, explains why the Tower Master needs Mahito to control the world for him. It is not because he’s grown old, since he cannot be affected by time in the Tower, but it is because his imagination is stagnating - he is no longer capable of finding new ways to balance the tower, he cannot sustain the fantasy any longer. In itself, this can already serve as a message from Miyazaki - we cannot hope to live only within the confines of our minds if we do not interact at all with the real world, because then at some point we will run out of material, of lived experiences to build on top of, and threaten to crumble the fragile imaginary world we have created. 

Himi and her fire powers

Himi is a strange hiccup in the system - a rare occurrence of a living person in this fantasy playland that wasn’t brought into it during Mahito’s own entrance, like Kiriko. This theory is a little bit out there, I can totally appreciate that myself, but remember that one year in which Mahiko disappeared from the real world and then came back completely unchanged? I think she chose to stay there for much longer than a year, knowing that time didn’t work the same in this pocket world and she always had the chance to return to her original timeline through the handy door-portals. I think Himi has stayed there essentially until she met Mahito - so long that she actually grew into a part of the fantasy, developing impossible pyrokinetic powers and becoming a set part of the landscape in exchange for extended youth. But this stay didn’t come without consequences. In the real world, Mahiko passes away in a fire, at a younger age than would be expected. Perhaps this, in itself, is a punishment for cheating time - the universe reclaiming the years that Himi spent in the Tower. It’s also definitely not a coincidence that Himi can control fire in the Tower, and dies by fire in the real world; a form of lethal poetic justice, if you will. Seeing Mahito was the trigger for Himi to leave, to embrace her own destiny, because she could now see and be proud of the outcomes of her life and not have regrets about missing out on the life passing her by. (This interpretation would then necessarily imply a deterministic version of life and time, so it’s probably not everyone’s cup of tea, but I think it makes sense in this version because you see doors way farther down than the present which Mahito steps into.) 

The starving pelicans 

The pelicans are another anomaly because they, too, are not figments of the Tower Master’s imagination, but instead have been brought into this fantasy world, for one reason or another, likely against their will. And this is where the Tower Master’s escape from reality cracks and burns at the foundation - he creates harm rather than good when he brings in the pelicans, because he does not account for the fact that they cannot exist without a source of food, and they then are forced to eat the Warawara to survive. The movie states that the Warawara are like baby souls, who ascend to become new lives, but I think it’s a little more metaphorical than literal rebirth. For me the Warawara are metaphorical ideas or seedlings of inspiration, the only parts of the Tower Master’s creations which aren’t fully formed, but allowed to grow by themselves and escape into the world - like passing the spark of creation to others outside the Tower. And the pelicans, involuntary prisoners of the Tower Master’s fantasy world, must prey on the Warawara before they have the chance to become real. This can be seen (if you squint real hard and do some violent spins so your vision is hella blurry) as the beginning of the end of the Tower Master’s reign - the forceful inclusion of other sentient beings inside his imagination doesn’t help him enrich his internal realm, but rather snuffs out the genuine inspiration that he could be passing onto others, creating pain where the Tower Master hoped to be spared from it. 

Mahito’s rejection of the Tower

So with this central “Tower as escapism” theory, what does Mahito’s rejection to take over for the Tower Master mean? There is a moment that was so subtly powerful in that final exchange between the two, when Mahito stops denying the truth by telling everyone that he got his scar from falling, and instead admits that self-harm was the actual cause. At the beginning of the movie, I viewed that moment of very painful self-harm as Mahito’s wish to withdraw from the challenges of life - to live in isolation away from the grief over losing his mother, the challenges of being the rich new kid in town, the overwhelming discomfort of seeing his father shack up with his aunt. His reality is agonizing for him, and the fantasy land is so beautiful in its strange way that it could become a safe haven away from his trauma. But when Mahito says “no”, he is choosing reality; he is choosing to do the hard work, to face all the hardships life can throw at him, because he feels finally strong enough to not need to use imagination as an escapist crutch. In those final moments, Mahito is choosing to live in a world that he cannot control, because no matter how tough things get, he doesn’t have to do it alone - and that’s what I think Miyazaki is telling us too. 

Of course, the movie also deals with themes of class conflict and war profiteering; grief and acceptance; continuing your ancestors’ legacies versus paving your own path, which many have already discussed and I don’t particularly have anything new to add to. Regardless, these themes are masterfully woven into the plot, as per usual, and serve to elevate the movie’s emotional impact into something heart-twisting and truly unforgettable. 

Alright, ramble over - back to fandom lurking! 

[bougiebutchbitch]

I think Homelander getting impregnated would fix a lot of things about him. Or make him a heck of a lot worse. No way to know until we make this a reality....

yes - we must experiment! For science!!! GUARDS (Butcher. Just Butcher.)! IMPREGNATE THIS MAN!!!

TW under cut: self-inflicted fucked-up forcefem? I don't know how else to describe it. And infanticide.

my hypothesis: he tries to become Thee most obnoxious tradwife. He's detached from any concept of gender outside the horrifically traditional and kinda white-supremacist-y values he's been forcefed since he was born. So now he's going to give birth, obviously he can no longer fulfill the 'man' role, so he'll just have to be the best damn wife instead. It's not so much about him exploring his relationship to gender, as him having 0 real attachment to gender outside what was drummed into his head as a kid, and playacting parts that he thinks are suitable for him.

Billy, who knocked him up in a one-night stand, is NOT happy to find Homelander banging on his door one morning with a bright colgate-smile, a positive pregnancy test, and a demand that Billy make an honest man of him.

ALTERNATIVELY. He is SO attached to his hypermasculine Homelander persona and his right-wing followers that he desperately tries to hide the child. This would war with his absolute NEED to have babies and 'raise them right' (aka: with genuine love, but horrifically, because he has 0 clue what a 'normal' healthy relationship with boundaries looks like, and doesn't care to learn). He'd be fighting himself constantly, yearning to be PROUD of his supe children and refusing to hide them, but also not wanting to alienate his precious fans or drop in approval stats. I could see this pushing him to the point where he'd massacre a bunch of his own fanboys...

Then the baby comes out as a normal human.

And Homelander quietly smothers it in the crib.

[matan4il]

Update post:

Rockets from Gaza continue to be fired at Israel. The 7 days where there was a break in the fighting, were clearly used by Hamas to re-build their abilities to fire into Israel, because the rocket attacks since the fighting has resumed are more intense than they were in the days before the break started. The rockets from Gaza were joined today by rockets from Hezbollah in Lebanon, and from Syria. Among other consequences we've seen on this day, at least 12 Israelis were injured by this rocket fire, and a synagogue was hit.

As the testimonies about the rapes and sexual assaults committed by Hamas continue to mount, in the last two days, we got confirmation that men were victimized by Hamas, too. The voices decrying the rapes as crimes against humanity are starting to be heard as well. The fact that it took people two months to get there, and some (*cough* the UN Women's organization *cough*) still issued what can barely be called a pale statement on the subject. When taken with how long it took them to speak, it really is not enough. But some voices are actually surprising. The Guardian is notoriously anti-Israel, to the point where its own Jewish worker has written about not feeling safe there. But now they've published an op ed that said exactly what needed to be said: rape is rape. And looking away from rape, for whatever reason, is wrong. And here's another testimony from a piece by The Sunday Times:

People are speculating on why Hamas won't release the last of the women that are known to be alive and in captivity in Gaza, despite that being a breach of the hostage deal, and a red line for Israel. A common hypothesis is that these women must have been raped and abused so badly, Hamas doesn't want to release them. IDK if this is true, but then, I'm not just writing about what Israelis know for sure. I'm mainly writing about what Israelis are going through, the torment of not knowing, the fear of the darkest possibilities that come up when the unknown looms over us, and this hypothesis is a part of it.

The IDF says it has destroyed 500 terror tunnels in Gaza since the fighting began, and 800 tunnel shafts. It has also published the names of Hamas leaders, and called on them to surrender. This is a reminder that Hamas could stop all the fighting, and save many Palestinians, by surrendering immediately, and returning all the hostages that it's still holding.

This is Yaron Avraham.

He was born to an Israeli Arab family in Lod. When he was 9 years old, his beloved older sister was murdered in front of his eyes by his older brothers, for having returned home late (i.e, for supposedly being promiscuous). He was incredibly distraught, since he was so attached to her, and to get him out of the way, he was sent by his brothers to study at an extremist mosque in Gaza. He recounted that he was there for 5.5 years, during which the boys were indoctrinated to hate Jews, and think little of their own lives. As a climax exercise, they were "buried" alive in a real grave, in a real cemetery, while their classmates held their funeral above them. Yaron Avraham said it took him years to heal from this experience. Another incident that he shared, is that once, two of his classmates were accused of being sexually active together (he didn't believe the accusation, and thought they were being made an example of). The two boys were beheaded in front of their classmates. Yaron gave them hell at the mosque, until they sent him back to his family. His brothers then had him study instead in another extremist mosque, this time in the village of Yatta. After another 1.5 years there, he ran away, and ended up living on the streets of Lod, a mixed Israeli city. He was taken in by a Jewish man, who fed and took care of him, and gave him proper education. After a couple of years, Yaron chose to volunteer, to serve in the IDF. His unit was sent to Gaza, and he ended up outside the mosque where he was abused. He wanted to go in and kill everyone there, but his Jewish commander stopped him. "You don't understand," he tried to explain the antisemitic brainwashing that happened inside that mosque, but his commander insisted that killing everyone inside goes against our values. Yaron said that this was the beginning of his journey to convert to Judaism, when he saw how instead of sanctifying death, Jews sanctify life. Everyone's life. Even their enemies'.

Yaron has retold his story numerous times, my summary here is based on several of his interviews, written and filmed. But something that got to me about a recent one, that he gave after Oct 7, is that he was asked about the occupation as the excuse anti-Israelis give for Hamas' brutal violence. Yaron said that it was never mentioned! That in the 7 years he spent in those two mosques, no one ever talked to them about the occupation. That it was always clear this was a religious fight. The problem was the evil character of the Jews. That is the mentality of Hamas terrorists. That is the antisemitic brainwashing that they undergo. That's why they can rape, maim, torture and murder without a second thought, even though they surely know this would not liberate any Palestinian.

The Iran-funded Houthis terrorists attacked two ships today, both supposedly for being Israeli. The less severely damaged ship has one shareholder who's an Israeli businessman. The more severely damaged one has nothing to do with Israel, it's believed the Houthis might have misidentified it. Officially, the Houthis say they are in a war against Israel and the US.

This is 21 years old Keshet Kasrotti.

He was murdered at the Nova music festival, one of over 360 young people slaughtered there. His mom said that her one comfort, is that he was shot in the chest, so he died quickly. His suffering didn't last as long as it did for some. She also shared that many Israelis, upon hearing her son's first name (it means 'rainbow' in Hebrew) sent her this short poem by Neria Yaakov:

"I am breaking / said the light / and became a rainbow."

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[bots-and-cons]

Hello! This was my first time asking someone to write something and uhhh... honestly I'm pretty shy when it comes to asking so I hope you don't mind me as anon and I'm not bothering you... Q////Q. Can you please write something about Soundwave and Shockwave when they see their S/O had two stars (like Oshi no Ko (?)) and they turned into black whenever they feel unhappy, angry, sad or other intense negative feelings? I would love if the reader is female, and fluff would do! (I honestly dislike lemons/blgl so-) *insert unknown cringe noises* Thank you so much, you can ignore this if you don't like the idea!

A/N: No worries, you're not bothering me. I assume you mean the eye thing that’s going on in Oshi no Ko? That’s the only star thing I can think of at least. I haven’t seen Oshi no Ko, nor have I read the manga, but you gave a good enough description for me to work with. I decided to do HCs, since that’s easier, not particularly fluffy though

~Shockwave~

•Shockwave noticed that your eyes are a bit of an anomaly compared to other humans

•He’s only really seen humans up close on video, but he can clearly tell your eyes are different

•You have star shaped pupils and your eyes are usually a very bright blue, a bit unnaturally bright even

•Shockwave has also noticed your eyes seem to change to different shades of blue depending on your emotions

•He wasn’t really sure about it at first, so he decided to test it

•He upset you on purpose, to see if your eyes really did darken when you scared

•So he scared you, quite badly to be honest, and you were of course upset with him

•You were so upset your eyes turned totally black and even when he was done with scaring you, you still wouldn’t talk to him

•Shockwave of course explained that this was a test and there was no reason for you to be upset anymore

•But he really scared you, so you couldn’t just get over it like that

•Shockwave doesn’t understand why you can’t just be rational about it, it was an experiment, he didn’t mean any harm

•Just because someone doesn’t mean any harm, doesn’t mean they don’t cause it though

•So he realizes he has to apologize and make it up to you

•Shockwave isn’t good at apologies, mostly because he never does it, because he always feels he’s right

•He does apologize and he notices your eyes start to brighten as he comforts you

•Which is more proof of his hypothesis

•He realizes that was probably the route he should’ve taken in the first place, making you happier to see if your eyes reacted to that

~Soundwave~

•Soundwave thinks your eyes are beautiful, and he thinks the fact that they change shade is interesting

•He has tested how it works by showing you sad videos or something like that

•He always comforts you after though, and you don’t even know he was testing you

•Soundwave loves seeing your eyes light up whenever he does something nice for you

•He can very quickly tell if your eyes change even a shade and what that means for your emotional state

•It’s a very handy thing to be honest, he doesn’t have to guess, and he learned the meanings quite quickly

•Certain shades mean different things and if your eyes go black, he knows either he really messed up or you’re super upset, or both

•It doesn’t happen often, but it has happened a couple of times due to reasons that aren’t because of either of you

•Soundwave hates seeing your eyes go black, because he knows how much pain you must be in for that to happen

•But that moment when he comforts you and your eyes start to lighten, is so rewarding

[crownmemes]

Scientist Sentences

(Sentences for muses with a scientific background. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Genetically, humans and cows are separated by only a couple of lines of DNA."

"I don't have enough information to form a hypothesis yet."

"There are simply some things that science is just too young to understand."

"Maths doesn't take sides. It doesn't judge."

"I will not trust you on something I can't verify!"

"Science and technology have reached a point where our means are finally catching up with our imagination, and the only thing preventing us from doing truly visionary work are these morally based restrictions that lawmakers put up in the name of public policy."

"My understanding was that you believed in rationality above all else."

"There is no god in this lab but me."

"My interest is purely academic. I do not like to get my hands dirty."

"Lab rule number one: do not borrow my equipment without asking!"

"I suspect someone has continued my research."

"Your lack of scientific interest is amazing."

"I must say, your brain would make an excellent specimen."

"Science has no price tag!"

"Things like this used to happen in the lab all the time!"

"Human memory is sensory-based. Vision alone is not the strongest trigger. Sound and smell actually work better."

"You're trying to create a wormhole into another universe?"

"Forgive me, I like to have an open mind, but I have a hard time accepting your theory."

"You're asking for an explanation for something that can't be explained rationally."

"I'm a man of science, but I can't find a rational explanation for this!"

"You put such faith in your science, but the things I've seen, science provides no place to start."

"I'm a scientist. This is my research, but you probably wouldn't understand."

"I want to put you in a little glass jar and then label your parts in Latin."

"In the end, it all comes down to one simple question - which is more important: having proof, or being alive?"

"No, I don't want to do that. In fact, I'd rather not! I'm just saying that I can."

"Our test subjects were less compliant than we anticipated."

"Who am I to play god with other people's lives?"

"Are you sure you want to do this? Submit yourself to these experiments?"

"That looks complicated! What is it?"

"People lie. Numbers don't."

"One of the inherent pitfalls of being a scientist is trying to maintain the distinction between God's domain and our own."

"You really aren't like other scientists."

"I need a corpse. Any corpse will do, but it shouldn't have been dead for more than two days."

"Why would anyone kill a scientist? What did we ever do?"

[olderthannetfic]

fandom social justice history anon here - aaah, thank you, early fandom being dominated by academics definitely connected the dots I was missing, thank you! Yeah, now looking at it with this in mind, it's pretty obvious how the tone of the meta essays from that era, while often snarky or even outraged, definitely sounds more like the tone of people who are used to passionately arguing in a setting that doesn't allow you to just throw whatever ad hominem accusation at your opponent's head. In contrast, tumblr's (and as a result, twitter's and tiktok's) style of fandom drama now reads to me even more blatantly like a catfight between high schoolers who have just recently learned some Big Words they only care to use as ammunition. I've read multiple older fans (including your invaluably informative blog) talking about how tumblr definitely reshaped fandom and brought in a TON of new people, and how slash was far from the "mainstream" of fandom even in the livejournal-ffn.net days, and I'm having a feeling that, for all the imperfections of this first tumblr generation of fans' activism ("let my gays marry" etc etc) the thing that got slash to be "mainstreamed" within fandom the way it currently is, also has to do with this pretty sizeable influx of new fans being mostly teenagers. As in specifically, overwhelmingly teenage girls who were having their first sparks of interest in romance during the height of the "I'm not like other girls" era + everyone shitting on twilight & "girly" musicians, because if you look at the posts from that period, they often contrast being a slash reader with being the slutty partying "other girl" or annoying hipster & at my school too slash kind of spread as a "not like the other girls" alternative to mainstream romance. Yes, not the healthiest attitude either, and it's good we've mostly grown past that, but like I said, there's a good chance that was what buffed up the numbers of slash fans to the point where today people are surprised fandom ever even was hostile to it, and at least in my environment, fandom activism, for all its flaws, was most people's first exposure to any sort of "-rights" activism at all. But (as is probably obvious) I did not experience most of even that era personally (I joined tumblr fandom in 2014). Anyways, excuse the rambling, if you feel like adding anything to confirm or deny my hypothesis, I greatly appreciate it, and I hope you have a nice day/evening!

--

M/M still isn't mainstream in plenty of fandom contexts, just not the ones I hang out in, and "not like the other girls" of the type you describe was already big in the 90s among people who'd heard of fanfic. It's just that fanfic was harder to stumble across overall.

I think the two biggest factors are the changing attitudes towards gayness in mainstream culture in a number of countries and... well... AO3 getting popular.

FFN was the big place in the past, though not for my crowd. Now, AO3 is taking a massive bite out of not only its market share but now, in the last few years, Wattpad's.

When the visible institution around which fanfic revolves puts filtering out het front and center, it sends a strong message that previous fandom platforms did not. You had your m/m-only archives and your f/f-only archives and your places that let you filter for those but that treated het as an unmarked default.

Look at early discussions of AO3. There's an undercurrent there that we all assumed it would be one of a number of archives and that we didn't expect it to get this big.

Nobody could have foreseen the Het-Is-Eternal-Default Wattpad crowd being forced by their own platform's suckitude to come camp on the thing built by slashers. Now, we are the admins and they are the also-tolerated. That never happened before.

The thing that makes people not report gay hand holding as evil porn that must be eradicated is simply AO3 putting its foot down.

Anyone who thinks that virulent slash hate is gone just hasn't looked at other spaces.

This is not about individual fans behaving better: it is about institutional power.

[iren-n-ire]

Astrology Observation 12

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

🚩 Take note that I'm not a professional astrologer, I just share what I experienced (or observed).

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

If you are a dancer or you love to dance (like me lol), and is a Virgo Mars, the type of dancer who overthink or overdo/analyze the choreography to make sure you really get the exact moves;

If you are dancer and a Leo Mars native, the center type. If you will be in a K-Pop group, definitely the center type. Leo is known for being a charismatic, Jang Wonyoung from IVE is a Leo Sun in sidereal astrology, and you can see how charismatic and graceful she is when she dances.

I don't mean to brag as a Leo Sun in sidereal too, my classmates always put me in the center in our dance performances and I don't want because I'm always in the cloud whenever we memorize choreographies which leads to my next observation;

Leos are passionate but stubborn and picky as heck (Virgos too), I'm picky when dancing as a school performance and I will never give my best, why? I don't want to, its always the same when they pick, I'm always different;

I'm a Sagittarius Rising and Moon in Tropical Astrology, as I stated above, everyone is on the same line and I'm just parallel to them. Parallel lines don't meet on a certain point and that is my point, this is one of the reasons why Sagittarius Risings are alone, we are the unique, odd one out like Aquarius. Sagittarius is related to overseas, socially connecting this shows that the individual has the capacity to bring new things, different, or weird to the community. You are the foreigner to that area of your life.

I saw one professional astrologer's comment about the us passionate astrologers in the social media that some use the sign and house like it is the same when it is not (e.g. 4th house/Cancer, 8th house/Scorpio), we know it clearly isn't which points me to my next hypothesis: A sign, planet, and house may be separate from the others' chart but wherever house, planet, or sign they landed in the native, it also gives a connection directly to the area of life itself it naturally rules or belongs to. Planets, houses, and signs have connections due to their nature that created combinations to which are now known to the astrology as a pair (e.g. 5th house, Sun, & Leo; 6th house, Virgo, & Mercury; 7th house, Venus, & Libra)

My experience as Venus conjuct Saturn in Cancer at 8th house (Tropical Astrology) native can be described as having this in the directly to the 4th house, Cancer is naturally connected to the 4th House (The home, family):

Other family members may help you financially but with Saturn here, there is a bitter taste to it;

The people who remove the restrictions of what the toxicity of the family they have such as traditions and beliefs that must be eliminated in order to stop the bad old pattern.

Cancer at 8th house natives may meet Cancers who are toxic in general

One of them is my past seventh grade crush who still act cold towards me in the present, let me remind you I'm a Venus conjuct Saturn in Cancer at 8th house native, we have mutual feelings to each other however he was obsessive and there was this a moment where he suddenly stopped talking to me out of nowhere (I was confused, he kept avoiding me) only to find out from my classmate that he is jealous because he saw me talking with our other classmate during recess. There were so many drama and I'm thankful that we did not became official (I wasn't planning anyways, because I'm the career type of person). Don't rush love life, it'll come to you at the right time (trust the divine, I've seen it many times)

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

❤️‍🔥FOLLOW ME HERE❤️‍🔥

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

❤ Thank you! See you on my next post! ❤

💋 Be you, Do you, You are You! 💋

[darcytaylor]

“I also think people need to be cautious about making definitive conclusions based on media portrayal.”

THANK YOU for saying this! In the past 24-48 hours I’ve seen people bring up a deluge of conspiracies. Another blog went from “I’ve been hearing rumors of EF being paired with a 22 year old but have not seen the evidence” to several posts later “Nic is rebounding with JD because EF is in a relationship with a 22 year old”. Isn’t that a big leap, considering this 22 year old must be a phantom lover as there has never been evidence of this. Could it be true? I guess in the reality we live in now - sure, anything’s possible as you say. But let’s stop turning our assumptions into facts, because this is literally what fuels the rumor mill.

(I will caveat that the person who made both those statements initially wrote that response as a hypothesis but may have dropped the “in my opinion” part as asks were getting repetitive.)

Anyway, I’m going to stay in this corner of Tumblr until the winds settle outside. It’s getting wild.

I appreciate your response! It's reassuring to know I'm not alone in thinking this way. Rumours can quickly turn into facts, and that’s where things can become misleading and disingenuous. People can be convinced of something that might not even be true. (This isn't just about the Nicola and Jake situation, this is a broad statement).

I’ve noticed that some people in my asks seem upset with my stance on not jumping to the conclusion that they’re dating without more concrete information. I’m sorry if my response hasn’t been swayed by the evidence - perhaps it’s just how I interpret things based on my own experiences with friends. I’ve mentioned before that my beliefs and skepticism often stem from my personal experiences, which shape how I view these situations. (I think this rings true for most people).

I'm also not even saying it's impossible that they could be in a relationship; I just think we need to be cautious and avoid making definitive statements until we have more evidence.

It's possible that they are only friends. Everything we see could indicate friendship. It's possible that they are in a relationship, I understand why some might interpret things as couple-like.

If people believe they are 100% in a relationship, that’s fine by me as well, as long as everyone remains respectful of differing views and avoid spreading hate towards the people involved.

Honestly, I am feeling a little uneasy with how things are in the fandom right now. There’s so much speculation and intensity, and I want to be careful about what I post. Just to keep some peace in my life. But don't worry, I’ll still be around, and posting when I feel it’s right.

[oonajaeadira]

This Will Be The Day That I Spy - Part 1: Blindsided

Fandom: Kingsman: The Golden Circle / Jack Daniels

Pairing: Jack Daniels x f!reader

Reader: Bold, smart female, not easily fazed, always open for an adventure. Has a chemistry degree and is a spirits distiller by trade. No physical descriptions, no use of y/n.

Rating: T

Warnings: darkness, enclosed spaces, and Jack Daniels being a flirt.

Summary: A blind date with Jack Daniels does not go according to anyone’s plan…and that’s what makes it interesting.

A/N: For my March entry for Year of Tropes  as part of @yearofcreation2023​ we’re going for BLIND DATE+. The + is there because I couldn’t decide between two tropes for this fic, so there will be another one tackled in part two.

It was the construction that pushed you in the door to the swanky Manhattan high-rise. Ginger wasn’t kidding, this guy must be loaded. Not your usual fare, rich guys, but Ginger assured you he was a sweet, Southern gentleman…if you could get past the hokey name. And the corny compliments. And something about a belt buckle….?

“I’m not looking for a sugar daddy, Ginge,” you’d pleaded over the video call. “If that’s what he’s expecting–”

“It’s not. Believe me. I only suggested he meet with you to springboard your network in New York and look over your portfolio. He’s impressed with your background and your work at Herlot Watt, but…” your old friend’s lips pressed together in an otherwise controlled flickered moment of frustration, “then he saw your picture and asked me what you were like when we were in college and I figured I’d just cut to the chase and set you up. One thing you should know about Jack is that he thinks he’s being subtle. But that man is never subtle.”

“So you’re saying he’s rich but tedious and you think that’s a good match for me.”

“No! I’m sorry. No.” She adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses, doing her best to hide a knowing smile. “Jack is…he tries. He’s a romantic at heart. He really is. But he’s been alone too long and I think he knows it.”

“Wait. Is this that CEO that flirts with every woman he sees? That one boss that irritates you to hell???”

Ginger let out a long, measured breath. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“You forget that I was trained in a multitude of forensics. And I know when you’re lying.”

“You know when I’m lying because we shared an apartment and you’ve held my hair while I was puking.”

“That too.” Ginger was never known for having a tender heart, but every once in a while, she’d let you see it. “Listen, dearest. I promise you, his personality fills up a room. But I’ve known him long enough to see that it’s a diversionary tactic. He’s got a deep core of honor in him. And if you meet him and sparks don’t fly, he will still open doors for you in the distilling biz, I promise.”

“This is the Manners Maketh Man guy, isn’t it.”

“I didn’t realize I’d told you so much about him.”

“Less told and more complained. You’re throwing me to the wolves here, Ginge. At least tell me he’s good looking.”

One sly corner of her mouth raised. “He does alright. I think you’ll find him acceptable to your tastes.”

“What’s that look for??”

“Nothing,” she cooly mused, “I’m just curious to see if my hypothesis is correct. Friday night, 7pm, rooftop restaurant of the Calgary Suites. I’ll send you the coordinates. Enjoy.”

As she leaned forward to end the call you told her to “wait–I’m not one of your experiments!” but with a click she was gone, nothing but a white afterimage on a black screen in glorious negative relief.

Well. If nothing else, he sounded like a challenge. And you like a good challenge.

So on a balmy Friday night you found yourself gaping up up up the reach of the Calgary against the twilit sky, towering over Central Park at your back, smelling the reek of a life too expensive for your tastes and instinctively turning on your heel to walk away.

What stopped you was the restoration scaffolding enclosing the building under which you were standing. Or rather, the way it shuddered. And the way a large pole fell on its end with a clang to the sidewalk where you’d just passed a moment ago, tipping slowly out into the street. Nobody was hurt but the screams and concrete crack and sudden blaring of horns spelled out a true disaster in front of you.

Where someone else might have been rattled and shocked, all it did was give you perspective.

Fuck it. Let’s do this. Can’t be a worse disaster than this, right?

“I can call up for you, ma’am. What suite?” The doorman at your elbow brings you back to the moment.

“Uh, no, uh, I’m sorry. Daniels? I’m actually meeting him at the rooftop restaurant.”

“This way, ma’am. So sorry about all of this.” He seems nervous, a little shaken by the victimless accident outside, anxious to put all to rights and it looks like you’re something he can fix. You follow him to the elevator bank, letting the sleek extravagance of the lobby wash over you.

Once an elevator arrives, there’s a swipe of a key card, a little door opens to a small button that gets tapped, a friendly nod, and the doorman backs out of the elevator, smiling as the door quietly slides shut.

Well. That decides that then. Might as well just ride this out.

Looking at your reflection in the polished doors, you try to see yourself for the first time. Are you shoddy looking? At least clean and tidy? Would you ever find yourself really fitting in at a place like this? A little lip tint might help, if for nothing than confidence…

In an attempt to look at anything but yourself, you reach into your purse to find a gloss or lipstick or balm, something with some color, and are so occupied that when the elevator stops and the doors open, you simply step back and to the side to let the new passenger in.

Once you’re in upward motion again, you find what you’re looking for, turning to apply it in the reflection of the polished wall. Finishing and taking in the final effect, a smooth baritone rolls from behind you.

“Pardon me, ma’am, but are you–”

You just start to turn–just enough time to catch a black Stetson and tie, a charcoal blazer and painted-on denim, just enough time to register the deep chestnut hair and mustache, just a fleeting twinkle of a dark eye and a silver buckle–before the world goes black.

A jolt shakes the box you’re in and it comes to a rude halt, then another harsher one as the generator initially kicks in but fails before it’s begun, and you feel yourself stumbling backward through a pitch black void, banging your shoulder and then head against a polished metal wall.

“Owwwwww.” A bright light pierces the blackout; not from the spark of pain but rather a phone flashlight. “Hey!”

“My apologies,” your fellow passenger says and the light swings out of your eyeline. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just…surprised.”

“Okay, that’s good. Hold on a minute, sugar.” The light goes out, replaced by the display backlight shining onto the man. It’s dimmer, but you can make out his thumb tapping out a few numbers and the line of a strong jaw as he lifts the phone up to his ear. “We’ll see what’s spooked the horses.” A few distant rings. A few more.

Sugar? Sugar?? Excuse him??? Wait. No. Wait. Is he–

A distant answer through the phone. “Sir?”

The man is calm and steady, respectful and patient. “Howdy, Jones. I’m in elevator 3 with another passenger and we’re in a stall and blackout. What’s the situation?”

“I’m so sorry, sir! We think it might be the construction outside, perhaps a wiring issue. There was an accident. We’re working to get it fixed as soon as we can. Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, we’re fine. No worries. You wanna call up top and let them know I’m going to be late for my reservation?”

“Of course Mr. Daniels. Although, they’ll be in blackout too; the whole building is… Oh! Your guest was just–”

“Yes, she’s in here with me. I believe…” He turns to face you in the shadows as if he can see you past the light of his phone.

The silence that follows is a bit too long and fills itself with the collection of regrets–the outside accident, the elevator stop, the darkness, being stuck in a box with the potential employer slash begrudgingly blind date that you’d rather meet under literally any other circumstance. What a disaster.

And then you realize that the silence is too long and it’s your fault, that he’s waiting for you to confirm who you are and you stutter out a “Yes. Yes, it’s me, I’m…I’m your–” just as he is about to ask you again.

“Yeah, it’s her, Jones. I got ‘er.”

“I guess that’s both a good and bad thing, sir. But at least you both have company, right?”

“Jones.”

“Sorry, Mr. Daniels. Just trying to make light. Ha! No pun intended!” The doorman’s laugh roars and then awkwardly fades through the receiver. “We’ll do our best to get you up and running again, sir.”

An abrupt return to absolute blackness comes when the call ends and you hear a small shuffle as he puts his phone back into his blazer pocket. Then there’s a beep--like a notification--but he doesn’t answer it. “Well shit, you went through the effort to put the last shine on the boot and I don’t even get to enjoy it.”

“The…boot?”

“The lipstick? Your face.”

“Excuse me?” Ooof. This guy really has some kind of cowboy schtick going on. 

A chuckle in the darkness. “I’m Jack. Ginger’s told me a lot about you. Said you had some bite.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Daniels,” you say, hoping your voice carries a smile rather than the tingle in your spine. “I assure you I’m harmless. If there was light, I’d shake your hand.”

“I prefer Jack. And if there was light, I’d most likely kiss your cheek in a gentlemanly manner.”

Wow. Wasting no time in the flirtation then. From any other strange man in close proximity, this should be too forward. But incredibly, intuitively, you know he means no harm. Ginger wouldn’t hook you up with anyone who was a threat, and obviously he knows that any bad step on his part would be reported.

But it is his voice that gives you calm. His voice in the dark. Deep. Mannerly. Steady. With a twang that is on track to becoming a big distraction.

You’re self aware enough to realize you made a mistake on your way here. You had already decided that the date was a minor hurdle to get through in order to meet your networking goal, that these business types weren’t your style and that you’d shake hands and leave with nothing more than a little professional support.

It had been a subliminal, foregone conclusion. At no point had you seriously expected to have your head turned.

But he’s said all of a few sentences to you–all of them polite, gentle, and smoothly southern…

…And it’s working on you.

You can feel your face start to burn and even though it’s impossible to see anything in any direction, you still smile hard in the direction of your shoes. It would be nice to be kissed on the cheek by a man with that voice. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all?

“You still with me, darlin’?” It’s smooth and sweet, a perfect balance of charm and attempting not to be a threat or take up the whole room, even as tiny as it is.

“Hmm? Oh, yes… I was just wondering,” you peer in his direction out of habit, trying to find him in the void, “what brought you here.”

The careful calm cracks and a little cornball shows through. “Well you did, sugar. I believe we had a blind date. Although, this is awfully literal.”

You can feel your face squinching up, suppressing a laugh–a hopeless endeavor that fails–and it’s pleasantly surprising at how instantly you are won over. “I meant Manhattan! I assume you’re not from here…your accent…”

“Ah that,” he purrs, laying it on thicker for your benefit. “I am a Southern boy born and bred. But someone had to run Statesman’s New York branch, so I slung myself into the saddle, and here I ride.”

“I suppose the cowboy act is helpful for the brand….charming investors…subliminal suggestion of authenticity…”

There’s a sharp intake from his corner. “Sweetheart! I can assure you there is no act. I grew up on a fair few ranches and have one myself.”

“Really? With the horses and everything.”

“With the horses and everything. Did you say ‘charming?’”

There’s something so freeing about knowing your expressions are masked. But no doubt the delight comes through. “Can you do lasso tricks?”

“I might know a few.”

How does he do sincere and suggestive at the same time? Ginger said he wasn’t subtle, but he certainly has nuance.

The sudden image of a tall, dark, handsome cowboy and his lasso running around New York sends your imagination rolling though. Clapping a hand over your mouth to hide your sudden smile isn’t necessary, just a reflex. Thank god he can’t see what a giggling mess he’s making of you.

He’s ridiculous.

And you love it.

What on earth has gotten into you?

Too fast. Too fast. Calm down.

“So..has this happened before?”

Your question hangs in the darkness.

And then....keeps hanging.

He’s been quick to respond up until now. Did you say something wrong? Is he thinking back? It’s hard to say why, but his pause raises the hair on the back of your neck.

But it’s only a matter of seconds before he gently eases the silence open. “What do you mean by that, sugar?”

“Ah…the elevator? Does it break down like this often? You don’t seem particularly stressed out by it.”

“I would point out that you seem pretty calm yourself.”

You shrug needlessly. “There’s no reason not to be. There’s ventilation. Standard codes will have a secondary cable system in place and there’s no way we can fall unless the cords are severed, which is unlikely. Worst case scenario is that we have to hand pry the door open and either crawl up or drop down… I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that, but I’m sure the both of us could handle it. The only reason I’d have to be afraid is because I’m trapped in a lightless box with a man I don’t know and might need to defend myself.”

“And I bet you could defend yourself.” His drawl deepens when he’s delighted.

Noted.

“I have a feeling I’m not going to have to.”

“No, ma’am.” There’s a shared, sweet and nervous laugh between you and you have a distinct image in your mind of those dark eyes crinkling at the edges. You’d wager he has a beautiful smile. You’d wager more that he has a cowboy grin–lopsided and dopey, but somehow just as charming as that twang. And just as you’re reminding yourself to slow down your flirting again, it seems he’s had the same thought. “These old buildings do have their quirks. A breakdown isn’t unheard of. So...how does a master distiller know so much about elevator mechanics?”

“Well, first of all, just ‘distiller.’ I’d like to be a master someday. Furthest I’ve been is head distiller. Secondly, I’m sure Ginger told you that we were undergrad together, started off on the same track, but I stuck with the chemistry and she went into the physics… we kind of learned a lot from each other. I don’t remember talking about elevators specifically? But it’s funny what just happens to stick in the memory banks.”

“I see.” Strange. He seems slightly perplexed with that answer and lets his reaction drag as if he’s formulating his follow up question. “And then you took off for Herlot Watt.”

“That’s right.”

“What sticks in your memory banks about that?”

Ah. He’s switched to the more professional side of the questions. That can be appreciated. After all, Ginger did say that he could help you along even if the date didn’t go well. And since it seemed almost certain to go well, it’s gentlemanly for him to save it for better lighting–with a table and a meal between you--and spend this trapped time getting the dryer and safer questions out of the way.

“Well, my postgraduate studies were–”

“Oh I know about your studies. I’ve read. I’m talking about your time in Ed-in-burrow. Did you enjoy it there? What’s something you learned that wasn’t taught in their books?”

“Edinburgh is beautiful. The history, the shadows and light…I can still smell the bitter florals of the old perfumery from the little side street I lived on…I guess I learned… well, I mean, the air is in the whiskey there. And I learned that you can’t force a spirit to be what it’s not. Every spirit you distill will have its history in it–the local water in the wash, the particular ions in the soil that grow the barley in your mash, the sweetness or bitterness of the wood used for the barrels…even those change from forest to forest in the same region. If you pay enough attention, you can see the thread of the chemical makeup in each spirit as you drink it, each one unique, even if you don’t have the knowledge of its path to the present, you still know there’s a signature experience there…”

Another long silence.

“Sounds like you’re pretty perceptive to your senses and your surroundings.”

“Your cologne has cedar and tonka in it, I can tell you that.”

An amused chuckle that ends in a drawn out note, “Well shit. Thus ends the interview section of our meeting. I’m sure Statesman can put your talents to good use.”

“Oh, I’d love that–”

“But tell me. Did you ever get out of the city? Go exploring the countryside?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. If I was too wound up in studies, I’d pick the closest castle on the map I hadn’t gone to yet and go take a drive out to the country. It was gorgeous. That became like my little pastime and reward all wrapped up in one.”

“You ever visit the North Berwick area?”

It takes you a moment to scan your mental map. “On the coast? Yes, actually, Tantallon Castle was kind of a go-to place when I needed to get out of the city and spend some time by the sea. Do you know it?”

“I do, actually. So you’re familiar with the area.”

“Oh yeah. There’s a little abbey hotel I booked a few long weekends in that had the best meat pies I’ve ever had. The woman who ran the place had this little Westie she’d dress in a tartan that she’d allow me to walk in the mornings on my roamings…” It’s a happy memory, one you wish had more time to pour over, but don’t have the advantage of reading his expression to know if it would be boring or not. “Wow. I haven’t thought about that place in a while.”

“You think you still know how to get around?”

You blink in the dark. An odd question. “I…think so?”

“Would you like to go back?”

Something’s wrong, and your eyebrows know it as surely as you do, pulling together as you try to keep your voice casual and innocent. “I…guess I wouldn’t mind a visit? Why? Would Statesman Distillery require me to have more training?”

Tilting an ear to him, you listen hard. A shift of feet or a shallow breath or a change in speaking tempo can belie a lot and he’s suddenly being strangely persistent in this questioning line.

“Not exactly. Ginger said you were pretty good with the dialect in that area.”

“It’s thick, but it’s not like it’s Glaswegian.”

“But she said you were a good mimic.”

“That’s…weird. Why would she tell you that?” Your senses go on full alert.

“You ever ramble on through the caves in the cliffside there?”

“I heard there were caves, but I’d never gone, don’t want to get sucked in by high tide.” What the hell kind of questions are these?

“You ever meet a man at the University name of Barclay–”

“What?”

“No. You stop! I’m ending this.”

The sharp retort is an abrupt change in character from the urban cowboy you’ve just started to get to know, and you naturally step back and put your hands up in a defensive stance. “I…what? Did I say something–”

Your companion’s voice suddenly gains an edge, authoritative, impatient, an irritation gradually salting the earth. “Yes, I can see that. Listen, I can trust your word on this but you know patience is not my main quality and she’s not dumb. Look at her. She’s seein’ through all of this already so I would appreciate the opportunity not to beat around the bush this one time. Yes, I know! But this is my assignment now and drawing this out is not the way to build trust–”

“Ah…excuse me? You can see what, exactly?”

“--no signs of stress, high perception, the skills are there! I know what I’m about and the damage is done. Turn on the damn lights, Ginger.”

Squinting against the sudden brightness as the elevator lights flicker on, you catch sight of Jack Daniels across from you in full for the first time. You weren’t mistaken, he is decidedly handsome and well-kempt, big hands on slim hips, head tilted back and watching you intently with dark eyes through the bottom of his glasses…

You don’t remember seeing the glasses.

“Over speaker, Ginger. She can’t hear you though the tech.”

Your friend’s tense voice reverberates from above. “Yes, thank you I know.”

“Ginge?” you ask into the air. “What the hell.”

“My old friend…I’m so so sorry about this. This isn’t really how I wanted this to go. I promise you there’s an explanation. I need you to breathe. And relax. You’re going to break that railing, sweetie.”

You suddenly take stock of your back pressed against the metal walls of the elevator, hands gripping the brass railing that runs along at waist height like you need to brace yourself, a contradiction to a fight or flight response. “Wait.” Your gaze bounces to the four corners of the ceiling searching for a camera. “You can see me?”

Jack taps the frame of his glasses and the notification sound you’d heard earlier in the dark pings again. Sliding them off his face, folding them in a huff and jamming them in his breast pocket he smirks, “Not anymore, she can’t.”

“Whiskey–”

“Dammit, Ginger… You gonna do this, or am I?”

There’s a tense moment as Jack glares you down and your friend heaves an audible sigh.

“Jack is going to explain some things. It’s going to be a lot, but I’m going to need you to trust him. Like you trust me.”

“I don’t understand–”

“I know, dearest. But you will.”

Turning to Jack Daniels, you find him easy, smiling, and extending a hand across the small space toward you, putting on all the charm. “Let’s start over. Howdy. I’m Jack Daniels, CEO of the New York branch of Statesman Distilling, and high-ranking operative for the covert espionage agency it covers. Code name: Whiskey.”

You find yourself reaching for him through your shock, propelled by Ginger’s assurance, Jack’s return to confidence and warmth, and your own curiosity kicking in. “Espionage…. You’re a spy?”

“Yes ma’am,” he winks as his fingers curl around yours. “Ginger too, if you can believe it. And–wouldn’t you know it–we’re recruiting.”

“They just called in a reboot of the whole building system,” Ginger warns. “It will probably be fifteen minutes before that takes. I can reliably give you ten. Without interruption, Jack should be able to tell you what you need to know, so keep your questions for the dinner table. I’ll scramble the mics and be back right before go.”

Dropping your hand to tap a button on his overlarge watch, Jack nods. “In ten, copy. Now then, sugar,” he hums at you, “let’s begin with Statesman.”

Over the following ten minutes, Jack explains the agency that coexists with the whiskey business, as well as its several fraternal organizations throughout the world, how Ginger came to be a part of it, why she had to keep it a secret from you, and will continue to do so if you decline the invitation to join–memory wipe, painless, no big deal, done right here in the elevator and the date continues as if none of this happened. But the background checks and paperwork are all done, you’ll need minimal training, and there’s time for that before you depart for your mission in Edinburgh–

“Mission? Wait. What? I thought you wanted me to work in the distillery–”

“Of course,” Jack explains, “there’s that too, but we need your skills and expertise and boots on the ground for this one. You know the area, as an alum you have an in at the University. You don’t have to do anything tactical. Not to worry, that’s my department and I’ll be right there with you–”

“So this was all some elaborate set up for what? To feel me out? Some kind of stress test?”

His thumbs hook into his belt loops as he settles into one hip, his chin chasing a raised eyebrow. “Why? Do I cause you stress, darlin’?”

Oh shit. That pulls your reins up short. You have no answer to this. Well. None that you’d like to admit out loud anyway. His chest is so broad. And it’s right there. And his shirt pulls against it when he stands like that…

Beside the point. Focus.

“But…why on earth would you want a spirits chemist on a spy mission?”

A wry smile pulls at one corner of his mustache as he catches you looking. “You said so yourself; there’s a lot of useful stuff in that memory bank of yours.”

“Yes, but–”

“Are you seriously underestimating the importance of chemistry?”

You might have protested further, made him understand that chemistry is noble but that you can’t wield it like a weapon; you use it for mixing compounds not for unveiling secrets. But the gentle swagger with which he closes the gap between you stops the words from coming. And the smooth and measured way he pulls you  into the circle of his arms stops your head from thinking. All this just before he presses his lips to your cheek….

In a gentlemanly manner.

Ah. That chemistry.

“Is this…still a date?” You don’t mean to whisper, but your voice seems to be on an inconvenient hiatus. 

His cheek hums next to yours, honeyed twang circling your ear. “Seems a shame to waste a good dinner reservation. And good company. You disapprove?”

“No. But,” pulling back an inch or two, you swallow and do your best not to look him in the eye at this close proximity. Somehow, that’s supposed to keep him from hearing your heart booming. “I thought you said you’d wipe my memory before this continues as a date.”

“I never said the two scenarios were mutually exclusive. There’s no rule says agents can’t co-mingle. And if there were such rules…well, shit,” tipping his head down to hook your eye, “They’ve never built a fence this buck can’t jump.”

“Seems unprofessional.”

“That’s what makes it fun, sugar.”

“Jack! I leave you alone for ten minutes–” Ginger’s chiding echoes from the speaker above. “You’re deviating from the plan.”

He steps back to assess your bemused smile. “I beg to differ. I told you I’d be flirtin’ to get what I want. Never specified that ‘what I want’ stopped at information.”

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea so soon–”

“I do, Ginge,” you call into the air while holding Jack’s steady gaze. “How did you put it? ‘Acceptable to my tastes?’ You know me better than anyone. I find it hard to believe that you’d trap me in a box with a sturdy, handsome man of mystery and expect me not to rise to the challenge.”

In the short silence that follows, you can almost hear Ginger fume. You can certainly see Jack grin.

“Jack. If you mess this up or hurt her, I will replace your entire glandular system with a colony of pigeon ticks.”

He gives a stoic nod, mostly for your benefit. “Odd choice of pest, but copy that. In the meantime–”

He makes it official by stepping forward and offering an elbow.

And you seal the deal by looping your arm through it.

“--order up. One box of Whiskey and Rye to the rooftop patio.”

You can’t recall the last time you gave over to the power of “well hell why not” like this. There’s something about him that is instantly trustworthy and you can’t wait to find out what it is. In the meantime, the reflection that you two make in the elevator doors tells you all you need to know; it’s a story in itself, an epic meet cute, an adventure in the making.

There’s a lurch as the elevator begins to climb, but this time you stay steady on your feet; he makes sure of that.

As the doors slide open, the picture of you on the arm of this new challenge splits to reveal a quiet patio restaurant under the stars. All the tables are empty but for the one in the center–a lone candle burning, and a setting for two.

“An arranged elevator stall. A fully reserved restaurant. The offer of a job and possible espionage. What else do you have up your sleeve, cowboy?”

As an answer, he flexes slightly, his bicep pushing at the blazer fabric under your hand. “Possible espionage? You still havin’ doubts? You hold onto these guns, sugar, and follow my lead. I will happily persuade you.”

Stepping out into the night together, you close your eyes and let him guide you to the table. “You know what, cowboy? I think I might happily allow you to.”

A chuckle. “What do you reckon? Best blind date ever?”

“Best blind date ever.”

________

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

[britishassistant]

An Act of Infinite Optimism

Apollo notices it quickest.

Some might say he could have been quicker on the uptake, which, okay, rude. He’d like to see this hypothetical some do any better, considering the circumstances.

He thinks he can be forgiven for being somewhat distracted given he and Trucy found Lamiroir unresponsive inside an instrument case.

So no, he doesn’t notice while he’s sent Trucy to get help, staying to make sure Lamiroir keeps breathing, that whoever hurt her doesn’t come back to finish the job.

(Every time he blinks, Mr. LeTouse’s face swims in front of his eyes, gasping his last terrified breaths as Apollo can do nothing. He’s not letting that happen again. He won’t.)

But once help has arrived, after Ema’s let them ride in the squad car with her to the Hickfield clinic, and they’ve received the news that Lamiroir is going to be all right?

Things fall into place fast enough to give him whiplash.

It’s the first time Apollo’s seen her without her mantle, is the thing. And his brain, in between being desperately glad she’s okay and dutifully recording her account of the attack, absentmindedly notes that she has the same stickity-up cowlick Trucy gets whenever her top hat is removed.

It must be a thing that people with that kind of wavy hair share, he assumes, as they have the same pseudo-curls framing their faces and fighting to escape the confines of their respective hair ties. True, Trucy’s hair is a much darker shade than the singer’s, almost verging on black, but apart from that, she could have a career as a Lamiroir impersonator later in life. It may not pay as well as magic, but she’d be able to pull it off. Especially with how similar their noses are.

In fact, call him crazy, but Lamiroir’s eyes and Trucy’s are practically the exact same shadOHMYGOD.

“Polly?”

“I’MFINE!” Bursts from the Chords of Steel before he can stop it. “I, uh. I stubbed my toe!”

Trucy cocks her head to the side, squinting at him. “How? There isn’t anything to.”

“I stubbed it. On my shoe.” Apollo lies.

Trucy’s squint only gets more pronounced, but thankfully Lamiroir’s real doctor comes in with the chart that corroborates her testimony.

She doesn’t bring it up as they head back to Sunshine Coliseum to see if he can get anything more out of “Uncle” Valant, but Apollo’s mind keeps darting between the evidence for the actual court case which is his job and the evidence for this completely insane hypothesis that‘s probably a product of stress. Or sleep deprivation. Or both.

He just needs proof that this is nothing but a delusion. Then it’ll stop bugging him.

Which is why he awkwardly asks, “So, if Valant was partners with your father, was he friends with your mother too?”

Trucy freezes.

Only for a moment. To anyone else, it looks as though she’s smiling bright as usual as she follows along beside him.

But even without his bracelet tightening around his wrist, he can spot her fingers pinching the folds of her cloak.

“I dunno! I mean, she musta been, since Uncle Valant and Daddy were best friends and partners!” It’s almost impressive how she deflects the question.

“But you’re not sure?” He probes gently. “Trucy, if you don’t wanna tell me, it’s okay. I trust you, I just wanted—“

“No, it’s fine!” She grins, a brilliant performance. “I can’t really remember Mommy too well—Daddy always said when I was really little, one of her tricks went wrong and she vanished! Somewhere where even Daddy, who’s the best magician of all time, couldn’t find her! Unlucky, huh?”

“Yeah,” Apollo says, screaming internally. “Unlucky.”

Spotting Ema spraying for blood in the hall where Lamiroir said she was attacked is so great a relief Apollo thinks he might faint.

“Trucy, do you think you could try to find Valant for me?” He leans against a wall in what he hopes is a casual way, crossing his legs. “I’m kinda worn out from…everything, and you probably have some magician experience that lets you know where he’ll pop up, right.”

Trudy gives him that suspicious, squinty look again, before she snickers.

“Really, Polly, I’m not that delicate! You can just say, ‘oh I need to go to the bathroom’, you don’t need to dance around it all the time!”

“WH—!” Apollo sputters, “No, I—!”

“Feel free to take your time, Polly!” Trucy sing-songs as she skips away. “I’ll bring Uncle Valant to the stage when you’re done!”

An aggravated groan drags itself out of Apollo’s chest. He cares about Trucy, but he’d really appreciate it if she stopped trying to kill him with embarrassment.

“If it’s that bad, you could always use the staff bathroom.” Pipes up the detective behind him. “It’s down the hall and—“

“I DON’T NEED TO!” The Chords of Steel interject.

At Ema’s disapproving glare, he clears his throat, focuses on his volume modulation. “I just, uh, needed to talk to you about something. In private.”

Ema lowers the spray bottle. “About the case? But why send Trucy away?”

“Not…about the case, exactly? But it’s not unrelated, per se…”

“I haven’t got time for riddles, Apollo.” Ema says, folding her arms. “Just spit it out already!”

Apollo exhales.

“I think Lamiroir might be Trucy’s birth mother.”

Ema stares at him.

“This isn’t just because they have brown hair and blue eyes, is it?” One hand begins to rifle through her satchel in a now familiar search for Snackoos. “Because I have brown hair and blue eyes, Apollo, and last I checked the only family member I’ve got is coming up for parole upstate—“

“No, thAT’S—?!” Apollo focuses on forcing his voice down to a harsh whisper. “Okay, fine, it was kind of based on that, but your eyes aren’t the exact same color as Trucy’s. Lamiroir’s are. And the similarities don’t stop there!”

At Ema’s doubtful gaze, he persists. “Plus, Trucy said her mom ‘vanished’ when she was little, which lines up with Lamiroir saying she can’t recall any of her past before she and Machi got their start—even if she did, Lamiroir may not recognize Trucy now she’s gotten older, especially since she only has Trucy’s voice to go on! Trucy herself admitted that she was so young, she had very little memory of her birth mother! And, she introduced herself as Trucy Wright, not—!“

“Okay, okay.” The sharp munching of Snackoos cuts off his tirade as Ema continues. “You have a lot of talk. But that doesn’t actually prove any relation between the two suspects here. Could just be a whole load of weird coincidences.”

“Suspects?” Apollo mouths to himself.

“No, what we need is definitive evidence.” Ema shakes her head, popping one last Snackoo into her mouth. “Decisive evidence.”

She flips her glasses down over her eyes. “And the only way to get that, is through Science.”

Apollo blinks at her, overcome with a looming sense of foreboding. “We?”

“Yes, Apollo.” Ema grins victoriously. “We.”

[lulu2992]

From the Inquisitor to the Baptist: The Evolution of John Seed

In addition to concept art and behind-the-scenes content, early visuals and deleted dialog can still be found in the game itself, notably in its files, and reveal more information about how John and his personality have changed during the development of Far Cry 5.

All the sources and references indicated by the superscript numbers will be given in the last post.

Part 4: Personality and morals (Far Cry 5)

First, let’s have a look at this screenshot of the performance capture footage of the game’s first mission, “The Warrant”, that was officially posted in August 2018⁴¹.

While the Father, the Marshal, and the Sheriff are all played by their original actors, the Heralds are not. That said, they don’t say a word in this scene and are just standing in the background, so it wasn’t necessary for Mark Pellegrino (Jacob), Jenessa Grant (Faith), and Seamus Dever to be on set that day, and their characters could be played by other people. I don’t know how old the footage is, but the number “170803” in the title of the sequence could be a date: August 3, 2017. There are two other numbers in the video, “170616” and “170615”, which could mean other parts of the intro were shot on June 15 and 16 (but this is just a hypothesis).

Behind Greg Bryk, the actor on the left in the screenshot seems to be Jacob, as the eldest Seed brother stands in a similar position, with his arms crossed, in the finished scene. The woman on the floor is surely Faith, and her posture is quite different from what we see in the game (but, interestingly, reminiscent of the way she poses in the family portrait found in the Holmes Residence³¹). The attitude of the third actor, who must be John, isn’t identical to the Baptist’s in the finalized sequence, either.

Instead of standing with his arms behind his back, he has one foot on the platform and, judging by the way his left hand is positioned, it looks like it’s possibly either in the pocket of his coat (maybe just the thumb) or resting on a gun. While, in Far Cry 5, John is simply observing the scene, attentively but calmly, and the “tough” brother seems to be Jacob instead, in this early version of the intro, his attitude is defiant and draws more attention to him, like he wants to make it very clear that you shouldn’t try to attack him or his family.

This is consistent with what we’ve seen in the first promotional images, concept art, Inside Eden’s Gate, the TV spot, and what is described in Far Cry Absolution: John used to appear more threatening and confident. In the game, this was toned down a bit and he, on the contrary, seems to want to look more “polite” than overtly menacing. This might be due to the fact that, as evidence suggests, his methods, although still violent, aren’t as extreme as they used to be.

In the final version of Far Cry 5, John gives tattoos that represent people’s sins and then cuts them out to make them Atone. This is brutal, yes, but from his point of view, this isn’t gratuitously brutal. He genuinely believes he’s helping and saving people, and that suffering is indispensable. The day his parents “threw [him] on the ground” and made him experience unbearable amounts of pain, he says he reached a point where “all [he] could say was yes” because he felt “clear” and “free”. Whether they’re right or not (since it seems the Voice Joseph hears is real), the members of the Seed family have conditioned themselves into believing that their trauma was a divine “test”, that it gave them purpose, and that people needed to experience the same thing to serve the Project, survive the Collapse, and be worthy of passing the Gates of Eden. John, because of what he went through, now believes pain has purifying properties, and he hurts others so they too can experience the epiphany he had while he was being tortured as a child. He can also get zealous and doesn’t hesitate to threaten or harm people who resist him, mostly because he can’t do his job properly and impress the Father if they don’t comply (and ironically, it’s precisely when he gets angry and carried away that Joseph is disappointed), but he doesn’t torture people just because he enjoys it. On the surface, it may look like pure sadism, but it’s more complicated; there’s reason for his actions. What gives him satisfaction is more the result of the pain he inflicts (look how exhilarated he is when he’s finally made Nick Atone) than the simple act of inflicting pain. He sees “torture” as a means to an end: Salvation.

In the game’s files, though, deleted content reveals that, earlier in development, John was more violent, would mostly hurt for his own enjoyment, and was, in general, a more hypocritical and narcissistic person, and it appears a few needless acts of brutality were removed from the game.

For example, this is what the transcript of John’s radio call to the Deputy for their Atonement looks like in the “oasisstrings” file⁴², which contains all the in-game text:

Your actions have consequences, Deputy. I've gathered all your friends here in Fall's End to Atone for your sins. You're welcome to join us. After all, if it weren't for you they wouldn't be in this predicament... This is your last chance to say Yes, Deputy. Don't be late.[SFX of an electric saw and someone screaming]

As you probably know, the “SFX of an electric saw and someone screaming” isn’t part of the call at all in the game, and it’s not in the audio files either. The sound effect would have made it seem like John was busy gruesomely torturing someone when he decided to call the Deputy, and that he casually resumed hurting them as soon as he was done talking. I think it’s interesting that the developers considered including this but eventually decided against it. Without it, the call sounds “normal”. Threatening, but normal. The scream and the electric saw would have made John look like someone who gratuitously tortures without any empathy… but this simply isn’t who he is anymore, so the SFX had to be cut.

In the Prima Games guide, a screenshot reveals what the Confession room in John’s Gate used to look like:

The room isn’t grey just because the lighting is different; plastic tarps are covering the floor and walls. The Confession room used to look more like a torture/kill chamber in which a lot of blood was expected to be shed. The wrapped dead bodies were more visible… and also seemed more consistent with who John apparently was at the time: basically a (somewhat caricatural) serial killer. Although he knew how to look refined, it seems neither he nor his methods particularly were.

When you explore the Holland Valley, you can stumble upon an excerpt of Deputy Joey Hudson’s Confession. In the broadcast, clearly recorded and made public by John in an attempt to make the Junior Deputy worry about their partner’s safety and lure them into his bunker, here is what we hear:

John: It was the Father who said to me, “Take them, John. Take them even if they resist, for those who deny the Project are the ones most in need of its salvation. Though their sins are great, their souls are not beyond saving. All they must do… is Confess.” Are you ready, Deputy Hudson? Hudson: Go fuck yourself. John: Hmm… I know. Opening yourself, exposing your darkest secrets can be… challenging. It can be scary, but… this is a safe space, there is no judgment here. Do you wish for me to hear your Confession? Hudson: Go. Fuck. Yourself. John: That’s... not the magic word. John: Do you wish for me to hear your confession? John: *sighs* You just have to say "Yes." Hudson: Go. Fuck. Yours- *screams* John: Do you wish to Confess? Hudson: *still in pain* Oh, fuck you! Fuck you! John: Embrace it. John: Embrace the Power of Yes! Hudson: *crying* Please, stop. Please, stop! Please, stop... Please... John: Do you wish to Confess? Hudson: Yes... John: There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

Hudson’s screams make the broadcast hard to listen to, but it turns out it used to be even worse.

There are 16 sound files in this “sermon”, but there were 9 more (so 25 in total) in the “complete”, previous version, which sounded like this:

John: It was the Father who said to me, “Take them, John. Take them even if they resist, for those who deny the Project are the ones most in need of its salvation. Though their sins are great, their souls are not beyond saving. All they must do… is Confess.” Are you ready, Deputy Hudson? Hudson: Go fuck yourself! John: Hmm… I know. Opening yourself, exposing your darkest secrets can be… challenging. It can be scary, but… this is a safe space, there is no judgment here. Do you wish for me to hear your Confession? Hudson: Go fuck yourself!! John: That’s... not the magic word. Hudson: Go fuck yourself. John: Do you wish for me to hear your confession? Hudson: Go. Fuck. Yourself. John: *sighs* You just have to say "Yes." Hudson: Go. Fuck. Yours- *screams* John: Do you wish to Confess? Hudson: *screams* John: Shhh… It’s okay. This happens all the time. Hudson: *still in pain* Oh, fuck you! Fuck you! John: You just have to open yourself. Hudson: *screams* John: Embrace it. Hudson: *screams* John: Embrace the Power of Yes! Hudson: *screams* Hudson: *crying* Please, stop. Please, stop! Please, stop... Please... Hudson: No... *screams* John: Do you wish to Confess? Hudson: Yes... John: There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

While the in-game version is painful to listen to, it seems a bit less violent in comparison, like John is only hurting Joey (who used to be more confrontational too) when he believes it’s required, just enough to make her say “yes” so he can finally do his job. He’s also a bit less mocking in the final broadcast, and unlike in the long version, when she asks him to stop, he does. To me, shortening this audio to only keep what’s “necessary” (from John’s point of view, of course; it’s still harsh) makes him seem less pointlessly sadistic, and I see this as another proof that his violent tendencies were deliberately toned down.

In deleted radio calls⁴³, John was also more taunting and insulting towards the Deputy, calling them “a wayward, filthy sinner” he could easily find if he followed “the stench of sin”. He also used to tell them it was their fault if he hurt people, for example in this one, supposed to be triggered sometime after the mission “The Confession”:

Wrath... all that anger you carry inside of you is a disease. It spreads out... infects others. It's even infected me. It's making me do something I don't want to do. You see, after you fled your Confession this... rage started boiling up inside me. I'm afraid your friend, your... Deputy Hudson... will have to bear the brunt of this rage you've given me. She's going to be the one who pays for what you've done. And you only have yourself to blame.

In Far Cry 5, he still taunts the Deputy and threatens to harm their allies if they keep hurting the Project, but not as much, and it appears he doesn’t always plan on carrying out his threats; he mostly wants to scare them so they “behave” and let him do his job (but it doesn’t work very well). In the deleted call, I think he seemed to be a less sincere and more manipulative person, and this John would likely have kept torturing people even if the Deputy hadn’t done anything, simply because he enjoyed it, but he prefers to guilt trip them and tell them that they should feel bad for his actions.

In the game, when Hudson is finally out of John’s Gate, she says something I think is very interesting⁴⁴:

When you escaped the bunker... John didn't say it... but you could see it in his face. Failure. Things got worse from there... Like he was trying to make up for something. Prove to his brother he could... I never thought I'd make it out of there.

I like that the radio call in which John says the Deputy’s Wrath has “infected” him and is “making [him] do something [he doesn’t] want to do” was cut. Again, it didn’t sound genuine; he clearly wanted to make their friends suffer and was just blaming them for his behavior. In Far Cry 5, I love that John doesn’t talk about his feelings at all and doesn’t admit he was angry when the Deputy ran away from his bunker. On the contrary, while they’re fleeing the Gate, John encourages them to leave. To me, it sounds like he’s actually very upset about the situation, probably even more than “early John” would have been, but because he doesn’t want to lose face, he pretends he’s not and that them leaving was his plan all along anyway.

When Hudson reveals that John was visibly vexed after the Deputy’s escape but “didn’t say anything”, I think it’s more compelling than him then calling the Deputy to tauntingly and hypocritically put the blame on them. And when “things got worse from there”, Hudson (rightly, I think) concludes it was because John wanted to “prove to his brother he could” make up for that failure he painfully knew was his, not because he simply felt like hurting people and used the Deputy as an excuse.

What this deleted radio call reveals, to me, is that in earlier versions of the story, John was too conceited to take responsibility for anything, and he wasn’t ashamed because others were always the problem. The final version of John doesn’t have such a high opinion of himself anymore, as much as he wants to give the impression that he does and that nothing can affect him. After the Deputy’s escape, he silently withstands that blow to his ego and then works his hardest to fix his mistake. Unfortunately, it doesn’t change the fact that people then have to suffer, but my point is that the motivation behind his actions is different.

There are more proofs of “early John”’s hypocrisy and narcissism, such as this piece of concept art for his home, Seed Ranch⁴⁵:

In the picture, we see flower beds, colorful garden furniture, a fountain, and a golden (maybe even gold) statue of the “old” Eden’s Gate logo, the one with an eagle, which indicates the artwork was made rather early in development. And they aren’t visible in the artwork, but in the sound files, Nick and Sharky also mention tennis courts⁴⁶!

When people join Eden’s Gate, they are expected to give up their worldly possessions, not to give them to the cult (although it’s always an option since they need supplies for the Collapse), but because Joseph preaches about how Greed, consumerism, and selfishness have perverted humanity, so it’s better to live a simple life. It seems awfully hypocritical, then, for one of his Heralds to own such a luxurious property...

But in the game, although it’s still big, it looks like there are fewer rooms in the ranch, and its exterior isn’t as fancy anymore⁴⁷. No fountain, no gold statue, no colorful garden… and no tennis court.

More cut content suggests that Seed Ranch wasn’t just where John lived. In the deleted in-game encyclopedia (still available in “oasisstrings”), the description of the ranch said:

The power of yes gave John Seed this dream ranch overlooking the Holland Valley. it has commanding views, a private air strip, and secluded soundproofed rooms for his most invigorating religious pursuits.

In the files, it’s also possible to find this kind of NPC dialog:

The cultists were talking about taking me to John's ranch. People who go there... they don't come back. Or they come back wrong.

And a deleted mission objective said to “rescue Mary May from John Seed’s Ranch”, so she would be taken there at some point. In Far Cry 5, converts go to John’s Gate after their Cleansing so he can hear their Confession and tattoo them... as well as make them suffer because, as a cultist explains in the mission “The Cleansing” to people who’ve just been baptized:

Confession without pain isn't Confession. You'll scream out your sin, then you'll wear it on your flesh before John peels it off of you. It's a beautiful thing.

Clearly, “early John” would also torture people in his ranch. And did he really believe it was for “religious” reasons, like it seems he does in the game, or was that, once again, at least partially an excuse? Given what we’ve seen so far, my guess is it was the latter.

A mysterious “sex room” located in the ranch is also mentioned in the files, but it was cut from the game and not much is known about it⁴⁸. If it was a literal “sex room”, it would either be yet another proof that John used to be hypocritical and to not always practice what he preached, or confirm that the “no fornication” rule originally didn’t exist. “Sex room” could also simply be a joke name used by the developers to refer to a torture chamber. But if we want to trust what one of the survivors says in Far Cry New Dawn⁴⁹…

This place used to be a ranch owned by a cultist named John Seed. I always heard rumors that he had some kind of pervert basement and was real disappointed to find out that it wasn't true.

…there apparently is no such room in John’s house.

Given how luxurious the ranch looks, you would expect him to want to spend as much time as possible in it, but it turns out he doesn’t. In fact, one of the cultists guarding the property comments⁵⁰:

Haven't seen John here in a long time. He's super busy.

And in a letter found in his bunker⁵¹, John wrote:

Everyone's human, and that's why I don't want to put myself on a pedestal. I don't ever want to get back up there again. I'd rather be here with all of you and the new souls in this bunker.

At some point during the development of Far Cry 5, John would expect his followers to live a simple life, serve the Project, and rigorously follow its rules while he would do the opposite. In the final version of the game, his faith in his mission and his devotion to the Project seem sincere, and he would rather work tirelessly and live in his Gate among his “brothers and sisters” than lounge in his ranch. Said ranch is also not as much of a display of wealth as it used to be, and nobody gets tortured there anymore. A bag of “oregano” can still be found in the living room, but since no one says anything about it and it really doesn’t seem to me that John would break the cult’s rules and smoke drugs, I consider it to be a relic from the past, a vestige of the time he seemed to only care about himself.

John is involved in three more abandoned storylines in the files, and they all demonstrate he used to be more hypocritical and violent. The first one is revealed by a mission objective that said to “find John and Mary May’s secrets”⁵², and it seemed it was related to the mission in which we would go rescue her from the ranch. Unfortunately, it’s unknown what the secrets were about, but it’s very likely John didn’t want them to be exposed because everyone would have seen his true, ugly colors and how dishonest he was.

The second one is revealed by Hurk Jr. who has this line in the files⁵³:

Good thing for us John and Jacob haven't sorted out their brotherly nonsense. I mean if we're lucky, they'll just take each other down. If not, well, I'm going to keep some grenades around with John's name on 'em, eh? It's comin' to a head man.

In the game, they aren’t in conflict. On the contrary, Jacob seems rather protective of his family, and John strives to impress his brothers.

As for the third one, we know about it thanks to one of Kim’s deleted lines⁵⁴:

John Seed's a piece of shit. When news spread that I was expecting, that scumbag spread rumors that HE was the biological father of my baby. I don't know if he was trying to create a wedge between me and Nick or if he was just doing it to laugh at us. It was stressful and all for nothing. I can tell you, we don't need to go on a talk show and have a DNA test. Nick is the father.

Again, in the game we know, it seems absurd that John would want people to believe that he had an affair with Kim, with whom he isn’t married, considering what the Project’s rules are and that a letter found on the Ryes’ porch, titled “John Seed’s plea”, proves he’s already amiably tried to talk them into joining the Family:

Nick, The Collapse I talked to you about has started. I know you want to protect YOUR FAMILY. The only way to do this is by joining OUR FAMILY. Our bunkers have everything Kim & Baby Rye will need to survive. There are dozens of expecting mothers and children here already with us. This is my final plea to you. Say YES. John Seed

Spreading distasteful rumors about them seems counterproductive, but again, John the Inquisitor probably wouldn’t have cared as long as he could have fun at the expense of other people.

In Far Cry 5, John the Baptist simply isn’t this man anymore.

To be continued…

[a-magical-evening]

I was thinking about my ask about Matt and Trey hugging and it kinda does seem like Matt is deliberately avoiding hugging Trey. This is just a guess, I don't really have any info to support this hypothesis. But maybe Trey doesn't like hugging people in general?? Has he hugged someone else before?? I really don't know.

There's a huge chance I'm wrong but maybe Trey doesn't like being hugged so Matt is just respecting his personal space?? It would honestly give more context why Matt gave Trey an air hug instead of walking up to him and hugging him. The hug from Baseketball could be an exception and just him acting. But in social situations he doesn't like it.

I donno do you think this theory has any truth to it?

Ooh, hello again 😊 That’s an interesting theory, and it’s had me pondering all morning! (No worries RE: guessing, providing evidence. It’s fun to think about these things, and look for patterns, especially when we recognise that it’s all speculation.)

First, I’m not sure if Matt’s deliberately avoiding hugging Trey, though I must admit it does appear that way, and if the reason is he’s respecting Trey’s boundaries, I’m totally on board with that. However, there may not have been many opportunities for a genuine hug between them to be captured on film.

A few things come to mind that might contribute to not having visuals of M&T hugs:

Men often aren’t huggers 🤷‍♀️ That could be a sweeping statement, skewed through my cultural lens as a Brit, but at least in my experience, guys don’t hug that much.

The times we get to see M&T are often red carpets, appearances, interviews, documentaries, etc., and those aren’t really conducive to hugging. They wouldn’t hug in greeting, for example, if they’d already hung out backstage or spent the whole day together already. Those types of hugs all probably occur “off camera.”

We’ve got pics of them (most likely) drunk hugging/grabbing each other, so it’s not something they won’t do, but that could further support that hugging doesn’t really come up that often for them in their public appearances.

That being said, other forms of physical touch don’t seem to be off the table for them. As I mentioned in the hug post, they often rest their head on or put their arms around each other, which might contradict the theory that Trey doesn't like being touched.

Related: @behind-the-blow pointed out a moment (that I can't find right now, argh!!) in which Matt touches Trey’s arm as they’re walking onstage to accept an award. It might've been awkward if they’d walked up there and just hugged each other, but Matt's touch conveyed so much while also taking into account that they’re stood before a massive audience.

I feel it’s worth considering too how M&T get physically close with others (besides their partners and children, where hugs are probably a given.) John Stamos immediately comes to mind! I know next to nothing about this man, but he seems to exhibit some sort of gravitational pull that makes Matt and Trey more open to physical proximity. Perhaps that’s just how John is, so it rubs off on those around him. That gives weight to your theory that Trey might not like hugging in general, if it takes someone who's openly tactile to get him into that mindset.

I mean, look at this guy’s power!

There’s also this lovely pic of Trey with Andrew Rannells that lives in my head rent free.

It reminds me so much of how Trey cuddles up to Matt in some pictures. It’s physically quite intimate, but again, perhaps not as much as a hug is.

Again, I’ve rambled on 😅, but I definitely think there could be truth in your theory. I could also believe Matt isn’t into hugging, Trey isn’t, or neither of them are, or it's simply not something they’re comfortable doing in public, or it just doesn't come up very often. Either way, it'd make my life if we did get footage of them hugging!!! I've got my fingers crossed we'll get something like that in the upcoming Casa Bonita documentary!! 🕯️🕯️🕯️

[nerizys]

Yaya's Cookies, and how it affects Spirits - Boboiboy AU

Contains OCs, OOC

___________________________

A spirit's job is no easy task, or that's how it is nowadays since civilization came into the picture. Keeping balance, taking care of the planet... It's hard work. But that's why the spirits aren't bound by ordinary biological rules. They can easily shrug off radiation or poisoning.

So why did Yaya's cookies affect Taufan in such an adverse way?

Granted it was made with poisoned goat milk, but her cookies have proven themselves to be quite lethal even without the milk.

There are also certain exceptions to this, but he doesn't know why a spirit like Taufan would go manic while they didn't.

The spirit of light has a hypothesis in mind, but he can't confirm it just yet with so little data. Perhaps a few interviews are in order.

Ah, what boredom does to the mind.

________________________________

The first spirit that Solar contacted was Forte, the spirit of Fortification, the youngest known spirit, and works indirectly for TAPOPS

It was also known that she likes to spar with Yaya to practice her power and skill. Yaya was fond of the little spirit too, acting like an older sister to her (despite Forte being 528, not like he can criticize them).

"Hi Elder Solar! How are you?" Forte's face appeared on the tablet, she appears to be lying on her back, she must have been playing while waiting for Veronica.

Being the youngest, she had taken to calling the Elementals 'Elder', after learning they are the oldest living spirits as of now to annoy them.

"Hello Forte. I am fine, I simply have a few questions for you regarding Yaya's cookies"

"Oh... those.." Forte's face seem to droop a little. "What about them?"

"How did you feel when you ingested them?"

"That's it? Well, it was fine at first"

"At first?" Solar asked with a raised eyebrow

"You see..."

"Here, I made some cookies for you Forte" Yaya said, handing the little spirit a basket of cookies.

"Really? I can have them?" Forte asked as she looked at the adorably shaped cookies.

"Of course! Try one"

Forte picked out one of the cookies and tried taking a bite. It's weirdly hard, the taste reminds her of the wasteland days...

"How is it? I made it with a new recipe"

"Ummm, it's not bad, could use a little more flavor"

"I see. Thank you for the feedback" Yaya nods

"Ever since then, she kept handing me cookies, but they start to taste even worse somehow... There are times of improvement but very little" She sighs. It was dreadful.

Solar can only share his condolences for Forte's fate. At least she hasn't fainted from it or become manic.

"Anyways, I have a question for you too Elder!"

"What is it?"

"Can you help me figure out the fuel for this one piece of equipment? We're trying our best but it keeps blowing up. I can use my power so it doesn't get destroyed but everyone would rather have more permanent solution". Forte had picked up a fondness for weapons and many technologies, as they align well with her power, not so well with chemistry though.

Since he's bored. Why not?

"Send it's data over, I'll see what I can do"

"Thank you Elder! Also, Yaya decided to hand out her treats to engineers and mechanics that came to assist us a while ago. She handed a box of them to Remiel. He's an android so he should be fine. Not sure about Kanoa or Mr Esther though

"I see. I'll ask them"

"Wow. Elder Solar socializing? Oh wait, lemme guess. You're doing some kinda experiment aren't you?"

"It is just a test to pass the time" Solar simply stated the truth, he is definitely not slightly miffed about Forte poking fun at him.

"Sure sure whatever helps you sleep at night. Wait you even sleep-"

"Just send me the data"

It wasn't nothing Solar couldn't handle. He quickly found a way around the "spontaneous combustion".

_______________________________

"Hello Solar. How may I help you?" A polite voice had picked up the call. He knows who it is.

"Hello Remiel. I heard Yaya gave you a box of cookies"

Remiel, an android made by a spirit. Solar's quite curious about his functions. For a creation from 50000 years ago, his functions are quite advanced and mysterious.

Raziel knew what she was doing

"Yes. It was kind of her. I assume this isn't the only reason you called?"

"Correct. I am currently studying the reason why we spirits can't seem to handle them" He doesn't have that many options to be honest. Only 11 spirits are confirmed to exist. His brothers liked to keep in touch with the other spirits and Solar himself really had no complaints.

"If it's the results you are looking for... Kanoa is currently curled up in bed. She is recovering. Briar also had some, but he is alright from what I've observed"

"Thank you Remiel"

"You're welcome".

________________________________

"Greetings, Solar" A voice rang out in his mind before he could contact the next spirit he knows.

"Greetings to you too, Neira" Or Oneira if he goes by the name her master gave her. Although she initially introduced herself as the spirit of Dreams, her true identity is the Spirit of Sentience. As such, it allows her to tamper with the senses.

One of which being one-way telepathy.

Solar pressed call, and Neira's face showed up on the screen, smiling.

"I assume you had an experience with Yaya's confectioneries?"

"It's not exactly me per say, but I experience it through Nisha"

"Do elaborate"

Nisha stared at the adorable box of cookies Yaya had made, then at Yaya and Ying.

One's face was almost as bright as the sun in anticipation, the other looked at her with pity. Nisha knows why. She had heard rumors of the dreaded treats.

But she can't simply say no, not when the pink hijabi girl made it out of such good will. She can only hope it tastes good.

So she goes ahead and took a bite.

Shakily, she gives them an "Okay" hand signal.

"Of course, Nisha wasn't actually okay. It absolutely decimated her taste buds in a bad way, and I had to numb her tongue. Then she suffered from a stomachache later" Neira sighs.

"I... see" Solar sweatdropped. Nisha was still in medical care, rehabilitating her movement. 64 years in a cryopod can do that to a person.

"Before you end the call. I have something to tell you as a spirit that's very experienced with the senses"

"And that is?"

_______________________________

'With some input from Neira, the spirit of Sentience. I've confirmed my suspicion. We were simply vulnerable to the taste of the cookies, not the actual ingredients itself. It's both quite the relief and cause for concern'

[manta-ray-space]

I find the neurodevelopmental hypothesis for schizophrenia-spectrum disorders so interesting. From my lived experience, I've had struggles for many years prior to my first episode of psychosis around the age of 15. And it has a prodromal stage before the psychosis, so I must have experienced that even before then!

As a child I was always imaginative and lost in my own worlds, heavily influenced by movies and TV and books. I struggled a lot with social anxiety and anxiety in general, developing different BFRBs as young as 7 or 8 years old. And I noticed I struggled with communicating my thoughts and emotions as young as 9 or 10. Does anyone else with schizophrenia-spectrum disorders notice trends like that?

[modeus-the-unbound]

Alright. Here are my notes on how the Experiments path would work.

Obviously not done.

Chapter 2: the Experiment

Featuring Voice of the Fascinated

Chapter 1: The Cabin

Choose to ask what she has been eating or drinking if she has been down in the basement for so long.

Retreat silently to a safe distance, outside of her reach, and begin making more detailed observations of her.

Ignore both of them and scratch your hypothesis onto the floor with your knife.

Princess will gnaw off hand off screen to attack someone who seems to no longer care about her or her freedom.

Give up.

Chapter 2: The Experiment

Fascinated speaks aloud about theory. Suggests that the "Princess" must be some form of augmented lifeform. With internal cybernetic enhancements to prevent her from needing to eat and surpassing the pain receptors in her nervous system.

Narrator is horrified at what the Fascinated is creating through belief.

Hero appreciated the observant nature of the Fascinated.

Fascinated expresses eagerness at returning to the cabin to further make observations of the Experiment. Suggests a vivisection.

Narrator chastises Fascinated, says to only kill not study.

Hero is unnerved at the Fascinated detached and dehumanizing way of speaking about the princess. Tries to remind Fascinated of her humanity.

Fascinated denies the princesses humanity and insults the Hero for being concerned about someone who just murdered us.

Cabin interior resembles office building waiting room. Pristine bladed where it should be.

Fascinated cares about the mirror, is not upset but intrigued by its disappearance.

Stairs will be a escalator.

Princess will sound robotic, (similar to how Spectre has two voices so will Experiment. One human and the other robotic.)

Fascinated will begin trying to further theory craft but be silenced by Hero.

Bottom of stairs reveal bottom of basement to be classic sci-fi (think Frankenstein and star trek fused) laboratory. With Experiment no longer chained but inside of massive glass tube. (Think Mewtwo)

Experiment will have right arm (arm with the hand she chewed off.) Completely replaced by mechanical arm. (Bulky and industrial looking. With a pair of clamps instead of a hand at the end.)