#queue me to sleep in a web of your dreams

[fictionfixations]

event

at one point i was planning on writing the twst events

but now im not too sure and it feels like it'd just follow the same storyline (even if dialogue parts might be different here and there)

(im probably better off writing the parts that are different, and summarizing the rest. god.)

(..ive written 8000 words of the halloween event. majority of it is literally the introduction of each dorm. and the farthest ive gotten is 1-19. i regret everything. AND i have to write more because i ended up making yuu an existing character, which i hadnt before bc i didnt know what to do with them. so i skipped the whole beginning part. *headbang*)

so anyway here are names.

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Twisted Takes: Spectral Part/ner (ghost bride. this is a little more important because it would've had a hint to who idia's.. okay well this is for a reincarnation series. so it would've had a hint to who idia's reincarnation was without directly spoiling it. ..i like the title i made for this. partner. part/ner. part 'her'.)

Twisted Takes: A Night to Remember (the halloween event. i just wanted to write kalim being scary and showing a bit of his not happy-go-lucky self and surprising everyone, honestly.)

miraculously, though, no one remembers this moment (or if they do they dont pay it any mind. lol. or maybe ill just take it as events running off in an alternate timeline somewhere anyway since they dont play a big part) (..also. i feel like i should say. he's both in the horse club [for self-explanatory reasons] and the pop music club. [also dazzled by lilia's screaming- sorry singing])

Twisted Takes: Endless Fantasy (endless halloween. i think i got so lost trying to understand what was going on in this event. probably wont write them. ...but they got possessed...)

Twisted Takes: Starry ~ Starry ~ Night ~ ☆ (Wish upon a star. (Vincent) Starry Night. the song. title pending. the event feels important but idk)

Starry, starry night Paint your palette blue and grey Look out on a summer's day With eyes that know the darkness in my soul

Twisted Takes: Phantasmagoric Affair Fairy Gala

i have nothing to put here (the one with leona, kalim, and jamil i think. ruggie too but he's not the one dancing. like cmon some jamikali dancing hehehe. remembering their reincarnations cause this is spring. .....and book seven takes place near-ish or during spring i cant remember. but ..)

ignore the events that are missing

(watching someone play glorious masquerade. the twistune with them dancing has won me over it looks so fun, agh..)

[sehtoast]

Mirror, Mirror On the Wall. (Depowered Homelander x OC)

1.1k words | Mild angst. Themes of body image issues. Brief promise of giving him head later bc he deserves it. | Depowered Homelander tries on his suit again for the first time in a long time. | Fic Directory

OC: Benjamin Colyer (The Boys-verse Spider-Man)

He'd left it there a long time ago. Soaked from the rain. Kicked to the corner when Benjamin had offered him some of his own clothes instead. 

They'd separated at that point. And yet, his little spider still took care of him. 

Well… to be fair, he had helped Ben first. Flew him home after finding him in an exhausted sleep in the rain. 

Now it was his once more. Dredged out of the closet in Ben's unoccupied apartment at the tower. It smelled of stale air and neglect. 

His lover stands before him, hands out to offer it. 

His suit.

The only one Vought didn't destroy– save for the one displayed in some monument to his legacy they'd erected after his 'retirement.'

His armor. 

His image. 

Him. 

He takes it with shaking hands, gulping thickly as his fingertips brush against the fabric. Tears sting at his eyes, and he wants to hug it as tight as he possibly can. Hold this long lost piece of himself close until it becomes part of him once more. 

"I remembered it the other day totally out of the blue. Thought you should have it back." Ben says to him. The web-head can tell there's temptation brewing. 

A desire to see if it's still him. He wants to don his image once more. 

As if on queue, they both ask near identical questions, words overlapping each other. 

Can you help me put it on? 

Do you want to put it on? 

It's tricky to wiggle into it this time. His body has changed, and he can tell now more than ever. It was always tight, but even more so now, and in all the wrong ways. A shiver runs through his body as Ben zips him into it. 

He feels like he's becoming whole once again. And yet… 

He knows better. 

But it doesn't stop him from dreaming. Imagining he'd never lost his powers. Picturing a world in which he could still swoop his little spider up and go anywhere their hearts desire. 

He tips his head back, sucking a deep breath before looking down. Everything looks normal again. He is exactly as he should be. 

He is The Homelander once more. He is a god. 

He is god. 

Except the suit is heavy. The false muscle weighs him down in a way he's never known before. The eagle epaulets are uncomfortable weights on either side of him. 

He meanders to the body length mirror hanging on the wall. It is there that the last embers of his dream are snuffed by the man looking back. 

Dark hair, messy and unkempt. Scruffy facial hair. Bags under his sullen eyes. 

The man in the mirror is not The Homelander. 

Not even close. 

Behind him stands Benjamin in his own suit, watching as he takes in the sight of himself. 

He's smiling, and John cannot understand why. 

"God," Ben chuckles. "You still look like the biggest boy scout in that thing." 

He wants to laugh in return– play it off, but all he gives is a curl of his lip. "I look like a fucking joke."

Ben scoffs. 

"That's because you see yourself through your own bad opinions of yourself." 

He wants to scowl and deny it, but he nods. Ben always had a way of knowing.

"Let me tell you what I see…" Benjamin approaches him, slings his arms around his neck from behind. "First and foremost, I see the love of my life." 

Homelander clenches his jaw, but lets his eyes flutter shut. Accepting compliments used to be so natural for him. Of course he was handsome. Of course he was perfect. 

Was. 

Very important word, there.

"I see my favorite face to wake up to, and the last one I wanna see before I fall asleep at night." Ben continues. "I see pretty blue eyes that make me feel like I'm looking out at sea."

He makes eye contact with himself, then. Sees the red rimming his eyes as he fights to hold back the torrent of emotions burning through him. He sees the blue Ben speaks of. 

He'd never thought of them in terms of the ocean, though. 

"Lips I love to kiss." 

Lips he's always chewing into an unsightly, chapped red. 

"Soft hair to play with when you lay your head in my lap." 

Shaggy overgrowth that made him look like a fucking idiot.

"The cutest little laugh lines.”

Signs of his age finally settling in.

"Then there's that hickey I left on you the other night." Ben giggles, nuzzling against his cheek. "Sorry 'bout that." 

He can't stop the little smile that spreads across his face. 

"There it is!" 

Oh, please. 

"A smile that's better than golden sunsets. You know the kind I mean." 

Of course he knew. They liked to watch them together on the front porch sometimes. 

"Okay, okay." He gripes. "I get it. You like me. Doesn't change the fact I'm nothing fuckin' special anymore." 

Ben contemplates his next words for a moment, simply staring at him. 

"Wasn't the suit that made you special, babe. Or your powers." He leans to press a kiss to his cheek before redirecting his gaze back to the mirror. "You made those things special." 

Homelander stares back at Ben through the mirror for a time, eyes big and doe like. 

"And, even when you take it off again, you'll still be special."

He inhales slowly, letting each and every word wash over him like waves kissing the shore. The sandy grit of his self loathing floats out to sea bit by bit. 

"I'm always gonna think the sun shines out of your ass, pumpkin." Ben plants a kiss against his cheek, swaying the both of them from side to side. "Now, whaddya say we get you out of that jigsaw puzzle of a suit and go figure out dinner? We can finish that documentary you picked the other day, too." 

He shakes his head to hide the smile that spreads across his face. 

"And maybe I'll suck you silly while you learn more about big man Washington." 

"Are you ever going to let me brood in peace?" He groans with a roll of his eyes. 

"Nope." Ben begins detaching the cape. "I love you. It's my job to bug you til you're smiling again." 

What bliss, to be loved so dearly.

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG178~!

- Notable thing this episode was the intensity of the sounds (understandable given where they were), almost covering Jon’s words at some point, and the fact that once again… we got statements-specific ones. It used to be a bit unclear whether the sounds we were hearing belonged to the scenery around Jon or if they were emanating from the statement itself: for example, the sounds of the war (MAG163) were surrounding Jon&Martin before the statement while they were immersed in the domain, same with the carousel (MAG165) or the burning building (MAG169); and likewise, the wailing of the worms (MAG166) was audible outside of the statement (surrounding Martin at the end of the episode, when he wasn’t even in earshot of Jon)… but the squelching we could hear during Jon’s statement was a manifestation of what was happening in Jon’s narration. The hooks attacking Francis (MAG172) were a bit more ambiguous: were they audible outside of the statements, and Jon was commenting on them as they were happening? (Jon himself, after all, was described as present in the audience in the statement itself.) In The Extinction domain (MAG175), were the scuttling and hisses of the creature audible anyway around Jon? Or were these sounds created by Jon’s statement?

It’s been a bit clearer with these last three episodes that Jon’s statements seem to be creating/emanating these sounds, or allowing them to be heard: we could hear the sounds of running footsteps and pants while Jon was unmoving (MAG176); we heard the clock of the room, the chair creaking or scraping, the pills getting swallowed, the altercation, the distant wailing, the peeling of Doctor David’s face… and these sounds disappeared (including the clock!) when Jon got out of his statement, while the tinny muzak reappeared (MAG177). This time, Jon was stated to be in a closet: yet, we heard the factory gates opening, the grunts of the “things”, the tools they used, the sizzling of flesh, the cutting… and same thing, they faded once Jon was done with the statement.

(MAG176) ARCHIVIST: “Feet pound, silent whisper, silent blood on lips, blood on teeth, blood-scent of hated prey flows through veins and into feet pound silent in pursuit. [IN THE BACKGROUND, CONSTANT SOUND OF A CHASE IN THE FOREST: FEET RUNNING, PANTING, SHUFFLING OF LEAVES AND BRANCHES] Teeth smile. Ready to kill. [SHUFFLING OF BRANCHES]”

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: [SIGHING] If you say so…! [INHALE] [STATIC RISES] [DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES] [FOOTSTEPS, A TELEPHONE RINGS IN THE BACKGROUND] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [STATIC FADES] ARCHIVIST: “Hi. How are we doing? You can call me Doctor David. […] Like I say: we have all the time in the world! [STATIC RISES] And good old Doctor David isn’t – going – anywhere.” [STATIC FADES] [SOUNDS FROM THE STATEMENT FADES] [THE TINNY MUZAK RESUMES]

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: “The only smell… is the smell of cleaning products. The door finally opens, [RUSTY DOOR OPENS] and another thing stands there. […] Finally, he is led over to a grate on the floor. [SWIFT METALLIC NOISE] He barely even has time to register the red-hot wire cutter [SLASHING SOUND] before it is in and out of his left arm with practiced, professional ease, neatly removing a small wedge of muscle. […] [SHUFFLING, CRACKING AND ELECTRIC SAWING SOUNDS] The last thing he sees before returning to the processing line… is everything going into the garbage. There wasn’t a single, suitable cut.  [ANGRY FOOTSTEPS] “Useless,” one of the butchers says. And Tyler is gone.” [STATIC RISES] [SOUNDS FROM THE STATEMENT FADES] [STATIC FADES]

Is Jon “creating” them through dream-logic? Could Martin&Basira hear them, if they stayed around as Jon’s audience, or are these sounds only present on the tape we’re hearing? I’m keeping in mind that the tape recorder is not acting like an out-of-the-box machine: through Jon, it seems to be able to “interact” with the content of the domain/the stories Jon is describing, as affected as the characters…?

  - Jon explaining how this domain worked was super interesting (and terrifying):

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Uh… [EXHALE] Technically, a lot of them… actually aren’t people? BASIRA: … Come again? ARCHIVIST: A–a lot of them are created by this place as, uh… “set dressing”, I suppose? Th–this domain, the fear of it requires these… queues, these… this, uh, intricate hateful bureaucracy o–of hundreds of thousands of doomed souls, it needs far more than the number of people who actually ended up here. MARTIN: Wait–wait–wait, so… so it just… makes the rest of them up? ARCHIVIST: Er, maybe one in a hundred or so are actually real? The rest are there to make those people’s fears more acute. MARTIN: … That’s… Ugh, that’s somehow more disturbing.

… because it felt almost like some level of consciousness was at work? Or, well. Once again, a symbiosis between the Fear and its victims, the fact that the domains are literally their fears given enough autonomy to construct that reality and hurt them even more. (I’m thinking back to Jon’s “You want to talk about psychological projection, try viewing the metaphysical world through the lens of a being that is, by its very nature, a reflection of your own obsessions and fears.” from MAG175: he was, in context, talking about his own relationship to The Eye, but that… actually applies to every victim in the domains.)

Things getting me in the statement: the implicit rules/functioning of the domain being so unpredictable and odd that Tyler couldn’t expect them (“He looks around, unable to find a pen, a pencil, anything. The thing sat behind the desk does not respond to his questions. Finally, Tyler takes his fingernail, now long and ragged from his time in the queue, and painstakingly scores the words into the paper.”), the hurt and the pain never being factored by the creatures around him, the fact that his reactions were never timed exactly right (didn’t try to flee when he could have; would like to flee later but knew it was too late in the line), the fact that trying to find a meaning in his own sacrifice was utterly denied (“Is it not better, at least, to be useful? […] The last thing he sees before returning to the processing line… is everything going into the garbage. There wasn’t a single, suitable cut. ‘Useless,’ one of the butchers says.”). There were such a range of different fears in the whole statement: the anguish coming from limited options, the idea of suffering for nothing, of being evaluated and imprisoned into categories outside of one’s control, the crushing feeling of inadequacy, of accepting sacrifices and yet being labelled as a disappointment. Jon described it as an “intricate hateful bureaucracy of hundreds of thousands of doomed souls”, and there was indeed a big aspect of it evoking modern workplace environments (… unfortunately).

Even with the description and the beginning of the statement, I was surprised that this one was a Flesh domain! I do get the “Meat is Me” aspect (the idea of being reduced to meat and value, of being stuck in an abattoir), but I reaaaally felt a Vast vibe in it (being one amongst thousands, of time and space spreading, of being meaningless) with dots of Web (being absolutely dispossessed of agency, having the “choice” to rebel and being conscious enough of the decision not to) and maybe of Lonely (disconnected from the others, lost-in-the-crowd yet unable to reach anyone). One gigantic blob of terror, I know, but it’s a nice feeling when Jon labels a domain and I got a slightly different vibe, while seeing and understanding Jon’s logic!

  (- Re: time, it was also very striking in this one that Jon is not exactly describing things as they are happening, but condensing them, since this one would spread through “years”:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: “Time has no meaning in this place – but that does nothing to lessen the certainty that Tyler has been in this line for years.”

Or. Well. That time experienced in the domain is an absolutely subjective experience, to the point that it might be possible that, actually, Jon is still telling the story as it happens although there would be no way for his words to match the rhythm of the events he describes? It’s still dream-logic, so whatever can happen.)

  - ;; Once again, domains affecting victims’ abilities to remember or be conscious of anything that happened to them before the Change (or creating memories to hurt them more efficiently):

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: “Next to him, Charlie saw Ryan, who he’d known since childhood – though the other details were hazy. Ryan gave him a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile – before his face exploded inwards to a sniper’s bullet, peppering the boat with shards of bone and gore.”

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: “There was never a time before the disease, no matter what the old bastards tell you. It has always been in the village, always festered in the dark corners where nobody could stomach to check, where good neighbours wouldn’t dream to speculate.”

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: “Its pace remaining as it ever was, it does not care for coming pains as you are torn. Doesn’t it know who you are? No…  And soon… neither will you. […] You will be someone again, someday. […] “I’m still Hannah!” you try to scream, but are you? No. Perhaps there’s some Veronica as fragments there, or Julian, or Anya, but… no. You feel the last of names and “who” you might have been be torn away and borne towards new bodies. New pages, blank; determined to be people.”

(MAG166) ARCHIVIST: “When had the crushing pressure in his chest become literal? When had the empty promise of the horizon finally vanished completely, replaced by the pitch darkness of this “forever wall of earth”? Sam did not know. Time had no meaning here. […] His existence was static, and eternal. Immutable. “Sleep” was only a memory, because even the prospect of unconsciousness might have made his present state slightly more bearable. Food as well, he knew, must be a thing, for he could feel the hunger, but his imagination failed to picture it. The only smell he knew was the damp, and the dirt.”

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “How long as she lived here? How long have these cramped, dingy rooms in the back of this sprawling rundown tenement been the place her heart calls home? She cannot recall, but long enough for her to grow into love for it, to cherish every rusted appliance, every crumbling piece of plasterboard, every – flickering – lightbulb. […] Sabina cannot… picture their faces, but knows that should they wake to see the state of the place… their anger would be blistering. […] What floor was her flat on again? Surely, it can’t be this high. […] Limping and desperate, she turns to see her furniture in flames, the bookshelves full of memories, that she can’t quite place [STATIC RISES] but knows are precious to her, curl and float away as ash. The photos on the wall of her family whose faces seem indistinct but she knows that she loves, begin to blacken, as the glass pops out of the frame.”

(MAG170) MARTIN: … It’s sort of weird, isn’t it? [CREAKING] A smell can trigger memory so… powerfully. Like this one; it, it–it makes me think of… [INHALE] Hm. [INHALE] Hm. I, I don’t know. Is it a person? A place? No, no; people, people don’t smell like that. Besides, I’m all alone. … I’m, I’m all alone. [CREAKING] Why, why am I alone? I, I shouldn’t be alone! There should be people! It’s such a, such a big house, my house, there mu–, there must be other people! People who care. Unless…

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: “When it had first covered her home, bathing the street beyond her window in unexpected shade, she had thought it an eclipse. There wasn’t supposed to be one then, she is… sure of that – although if pressed, she could not have told you what day it is today. Before the shadow fell, she is sure that the sun was shining brightly – although, if pressed, she could not have pictured it. And the humid heat of a lingering summer had left the world sleepy, and unprepared – although, if pressed, she remembers the heat, but not the season. […] Mehreen cannot quite make out their faces as she bundles them into the car, old and shuddering as it coughs into life. Does she remember having a child? A spouse? Does she remember her mother having such a cruel sneer? It doesn’t matter. They are here now, and she has to save them.”

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: “It’s faded now. He remembers aches and worries and, sometimes, something that might have been joy…! But it’s far away now, like something seen projected on a distant wall.

I still wonder if that situation will evolve, by MAG200… Jon said that the Fears would stay as long as there are people to fear them, and the current status quo is that victims are imprisoned in a loop – their fears made manifest, torturing them in turn, leading to more fear, their perceptions and memories biased to prevent them from feeling something else. We’ve seen how anchors could work as a point of focus to get out of their grasp; it’s not possible with how the world is shaped now, but if the victims could remember something else than their fears, maybe…?

  - Oh! I hadn’t noticed/wondered if there was an echo of Beholding in the domain itself in a while, but:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: “Even if he had the will to, Tyler could not have struggled: the movements of the things scrutinising him are as gently unstoppable as a piston.”

… that’s a big Eye mood.

  - Same as in the Slaughter domain, it seems to be a loop of fear:

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: “There is a rumbling in the earth around him, as a tank speeds along its unstoppable path, and Charlie is immediately pulled under its tread. He has a moment of shocked horror, before being reduced to a smear in the mud. […] Next to his bleeding corpse, Charlie wakes from what passes for sleep in this place. A sergeant is yelling at him, screaming for him to take his gun and get into the waiting transport.”

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: “The tragedy of Francis. A comic puppet show, in all acts. Act 48067”. […] And so it will be until the curtain descends at last, and THE SPIDER resets the scene, its belly already beginning to swell once again with replacements for the creatures it so gorily birthed. AUDIENCE (BACKGROUND): [LAUGHS] Pause, for laughter. AUDIENCE (BACKGROUND): [LOUD CLAPS] And so the curtains descends.” AUDIENCE (BACKGROUND): [LOUD CLAPS AND CHEERING] [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: “The tragedy of Francis. A comic puppet show in all acts. Act 48068.”

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: “The last thing he sees before returning to the processing line… is everything going into the garbage. There wasn’t a single, suitable cut.”

(And I’m still dubious of Oliver’s claim that The End’s domain was better than the others and would deliver it for real! Though Jon mentioned dream-logic as the rule at work, to explain why Daisy wouldn’t be coming back if killed… so maybe enough belief in The End as an absolute ending makes it real in that world. Mm…)

  - Back to Martin worrying over victims’ feelings, and being vocal about it!

(MAG163) MARTIN: … They’re not… real? [VOICES SHOUTING IN THE DISTANCE] ARCHIVIST: [MIRTHLESS CHUCKLING] No…! They’re real; they were… normal people before the– … Before me. But now they’re here, meat for the grinder. I just mean there’s no point… talking to them. MARTIN: Don’t be a prick, Jon. Hey! I’m, I’m sorry about him. He’s–he’s going through a lot – well… we all are, I suppose, but well… “Hi”, I guess. [SILENCE] Hello? ARCHIVIST: They won’t hear you, Martin, they’re all… too busy waiting to die. MARTIN: Jon…

(MAG178) MARTIN: [HUSHED] Oh, would you both just keep it down, please? ARCHIVIST: They’re not aware of us, Martin, I keep telling you. MARTIN: Yeah, I know, but it’s not okay to talk as though they’re not there. They’re still people. […] [MARTIN JOSTLES A BODY] MARTIN: Excuse me. ARCHIVIST: [EXASPERATED] Martin, they can’t hear you. MARTIN: [SHARP] I know, Jon, that’s not the point. ARCHIVIST: … All right…!

He hadn’t been vocal about it in a long time! (And he had felt a bit disconnected about it, to me, with the worms and the carousels.)

In comparison, I do understand Jon’s pragmatism in the uselessness of trying to Know who is real and not:

(MAG178) MARTIN: Wait–wait–wait, so… so it just… makes the rest of them up? ARCHIVIST: Er, maybe one in a hundred or so are actually real? The rest are there to make those people’s fears more acute. MARTIN: … That’s… Ugh, that’s somehow more disturbing. BASIRA: … How do you tell which is which? ARCHIVIST: I mean, you could ask me, I suppose. B–but I don’t… really see the point. Would it help you to know whose suffering is real and… whose is just a… grim reflection? [SILENCE] BASIRA: No. ARCHIVIST: Well, there you go then.

… but still, a bit aouch about that logic – it’s true that people in the domains are not aware of them, so taking them into account doesn’t change anything, but it still means ignoring real people. (I wonder if they will end up in a domain where victims are aware and conscious and a potential threat to them, if it’s the point of the domain?)

  - I’m glad, however, that Jon was trying to make them avoid the avatar of the place, because it was contrasting a lot with Jude:

(MAG169) MARTIN: That turn…! You, you took a hard turn after the roots back there. I knew that was a thing! Why are we here? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] It’s just… [INHALE] When you said… [SIGH] MARTIN: Jon, why have you taken us here? ARCHIVIST: Jude Perry. … This is where Jude Perry rules.

(MAG178) BASIRA: So who’s in charge, here? ARCHIVIST: Not anyone you’re familiar with. We won’t be meeting them. MARTIN: You’re not going to… y’know? [MARTIN VOCALISES AN EXPLOSION] ARCHIVIST: No. Even if I wanted to, he’s in the, uh… Main Processing Room, and believe me when I say that’s… not somewhere you want to be. MARTIN: … Yeah. I guess.

(And even with Oliver: Jon had made the decision that he wouldn’t pursue Oliver, but it had been shown as a rare act of mercy in the face of Oliver’s actions. Here, it really sounded like he wanted to spare Martin and Basira more suffering, didn’t want to put them in an upsetting situation.)

… a bit worried that Martin still hasn’t let it sink in that Jon didn’t want to go Kill Bill anymore because he felt that it was detrimental to himself, but to be fair, Martin sounded like he had asked just to clear it up and wasn’t pressuring, just checking.

  - OHOHOHOH about Martin’s frustration feeling extremely… meta (it’s something an audience would say):

(MAG178) MARTIN: [INHALE, EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] God, I hate all of these… loose ends…! ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry. MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go!

Both the thread imagery and the storytelling aspect are screaming a bit “Web?” (THIS IS HOW WEB!MARTIN CAN STILL W–)

  - I’m still a puddle on the floor about the fact that:

(MAG178) MARTIN: … Yeah. I guess. [INHALE, EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] God, I hate all of these… loose ends…! ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry. MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go! ARCHIVIST: Hm? MARTIN: [SIGH] Around Elias’s neck. ARCHIVIST: … Ah.

MartinElias. The MartinElias in season 5 is so delightful *snif*. Strangulation? That’s such an intimate way of killing… It’s what Will described as what his preferred method for killing Hannibal would be… My MartinElias rights…

I love how. Martin. Just brings up Elias so much this season.

(MAG161) MARTIN: Elias won, and there were some tapes he’d kept for himself, and he wanted to gloat. So, he sent them! ARCHIVIST: He’s not… MARTIN: I–I don’t see– ARCHIVIST: … “Elias”. MARTIN: Jonah, then. I don’t know, I find it hard to think of him as… I don’t really like to think of him!

(MAG162) MARTIN: Do you think it’ll do anything? Confronting Elias?

(MAG164) MARTIN: What about Elias?

(MAG170) MARTIN: I mean, the interview was weird, I… I don’t really remember the man who talked to me. Just his eyes. They stared at me; th–through me, and… and, I–I knew that he knew what I’d done. God, I…! I was so scared, but… but then he smiled and shook my hand…! What was his name? [CREAKING] He said I “had the job”…! [CHUCKLE] That he “looked forward to working with me”! … I was still so scared I could barely move my arm…! I was so terrified I’d let him down…!

(MAG174) MARTIN: … Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever.

(MAG177) BASIRA: … So what’s your plan? MARTIN: Long-term? Elias. He’s up in that that… “Panopticon” tower thing.

(MAG178) MARTIN: God, I hate all of these… loose ends…! ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry. MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go! ARCHIVIST: Hm? MARTIN: [SIGH] Around Elias’s neck.

* “I don’t really like to think of him!” said Martin Blackwood, before proceeding to mention Elias at every turn. (And still “Elias”! Jon and Martin seem to have completely given up on calling him “Jonah”. He’s still “Elias” for them, even though they know who he truly is.)

* Oh, Martin… He really seems to have decided that “killing Elias/getting revenge on Elias” was their goal, and that it would do anything good. Jon has already proven that killing avatars in domains didn’t free victims, didn’t improve their situations; that the domains just… kept going, even “unsupervised”. Even if Jonah is still around in some shape or form (in his old decaying body, in “Elias Bouchard”’s body, merged with the Panopticon, anything), and even if he is the ruler of the Panopticon (not a given, since Jon said that they were heading towards his own domain: unclear if it was the Archives, the Institute, the Panopticon, or all of them)… killing him would not fix the world. Is Martin absolutely in denial about this? Or does he need a small goal to keep going and process his feelings?

(;; And there is just a huge chance that… Martin is mostly feeling guilty about what happened, about the fact that he had the chance and opportunity to kill Elias but refused to do so, and that it led to Jon getting his last mark with The Lonely (with potential additions of not having checked the package they had received, and having chosen to leave Jon unsupervised while he would read a statement). The episode was about Basira knowing all along what was happening but trying to pretend she didn’t, and how this prevented her from reaching her goal (Daisy); I wonder if Martin will soon have to undergo the same process, to allow him and Jon to reach the Panopticon…)

  - About Jon’s need for a stop:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Left. [INHALE] Just up ahead. [STATIC FADES] Although, uh… Hum… Actually, you might want to head through that door and… wait. BASIRA: Again? Already? ARCHIVIST: There’s a lot of fear in this place. […] MARTIN: New plan. We wait in the corridor; you go in the spike cupboard and tell your story to all the… hooks and stuff.

Once again, it’s definitely presented as Jon having to unload an excess, and I’m really interested in Martin’s lexicon. In MAG177, he called it a “statement”, and this time, presented it as “tell[ing] [his] story to all the hooks and stuff”: “story” had been how Fanshawe had described Albrecht von Closen pouring out his horrors, and Martin’s formulation took into consideration the need for an audience. Jon did introduce the tape recorder as a necessary audience in MAG163 while he was giving the domain’s statement (and he had mentioned how “pouring out” into them had helped him to understand what the cabin was doing, in MAG162), but really, I’m struck with how similar Jon sounds to how Fanshawe had described Albrecht?

(And what is happening with the tape recorder, what is Jon creating through them…)

  - Uh! So it seems like Basira got Enough already, by listening to Jon last time. Not keen to reiterate the experience, uh. (Well: it’s mostly Jon who, first and foremost, took it as a given that Basira wouldn’t be listening either.)

  - I’m fond of the fact that:

(MAG178) [DOOR OPENS AND METALLIC JANGLING IS HEARD] MARTIN: [EMPHATICALLY] Nope! BASIRA: … What the hell sort of tools are those? ARCHIVIST: “Flesh” factory, remember?

The tools weren’t described. Some things better left to imagination, nondescript but evoked through characters’ reactions, uh?

  - ;w; Is Jon still worried about Martin potentially losing himself in a domain? He really almost lost Martin in the Lonely house, and Martin had wandered away too deep in the Web one:

(MAG170) ARCHIVIST: Oh, Martin! Thank god, I, I was… I–I thought you were behind me. [FABRIC RUSTLES] MARTIN: I thought you’d left me behind…! Gone on without me.

(MAG172) MARTIN: No, I… Not for most of it. I just thought I heard… something. Whatever. I went exploring, all right? I don’t know why; I shouldn’t have. ARCHIVIST: No, you–you shouldn’t have!

(MAG178) MARTIN: New plan. We wait in the corridor; you go in the spike cupboard and tell your story to all the… hooks and stuff. ARCHIVIST: … Fine. Just don’t wander off.

… I really wonder if, at some point, Jon will try to come back to Martin&Basira, and they’ll be just… gone, because of Helen, Annabelle, or the domain’s work. (… It might be how Daisy could appear? While Jon is focusing on a statement and unaware that she reached them first?)

  - Martin has his Limits and will be vocal about it:

(MAG178) MARTIN: [EMPHATICALLY] Nope! […] New plan. We wait in the corridor; you go in the spike cupboard and tell your story to all the… hooks and stuff.

… but mostly, I’m snickering so hard, because. It was.

It was.

It was Martin refusing to go into the closet. I’ve been snickering about it for a week, alright.

  - … I really wonder what Martin was talking about with Basira:

(MAG178) MARTIN: –I know, I know you find it hard whe– … Done already? ARCHIVIST: Yes. [INHALE] Talking about me? BASIRA: … I assume that’s a rhetorical question. ARCHIVIST: I am trying to keep my powers to myself. BASIRA: Sure! MARTIN: I was just… giving Basira some advice. ARCHIVIST: [GOOD-NATURED] Avatars are from Mars and humans are from Venus, that sort of thing? MARTIN: [TINY CHUCKLE] I mean… yeah? Sort of? ARCHIVIST: [BRIEF CHUCKLE] MARTIN: Well, w–we were pretty much done anyway.

… Jon’s shitty sense of humour… (Was that an allusion to the feared vs. the fearful, as Helen made the distinction? To the Jon/Martin relationship as avatar/human? x’))

Was Martin’s “advice” about how to not take what Jon was saying too badly, how to try to talk with him constructively since she and Jon had grown sour towards each other in season 4? … Or does Martin have a plan in the making, that requires Jon to not know about it? Because this episode and the previous one made a point to remind us…

(MAG177) BASIRA: … What’s it like? Being with someone who can see the inside of your head? MARTIN: Hm? Oh! Oh no, he doesn’t. I told him not to, and so he tries to… look away? BASIRA: And you trust him to do that. MARTIN: [DECISIVE] Yes. I do.

… that Jon doesn’t know what is happening in Martin’s head since Martin asked him not to “know” about him…

(I’m glaaad that Martin and Basira are talking outside of Jon!!)

  - I like the contrast between Jon absolutely knowing what he was doing, where he was leading Basira and Martin… and the fact that Basira didn’t know about it.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Next one’s through here. BASIRA: Next one? ARCHIVIST: Her latest victim. [DOOR IS WRENCHED OPEN WITH A METALLIC CREAK] MARTIN: [REELS] Oh… [SOUNDS OF FLIES BUZZING]

Not exceptionally great from Jon, but typical from season 5 – it just highlights how much Jon knows how the world operate, what is around them, is indeed almost completely omniscient… and forgets how others aren’t.

  - I really, really love how Daisy’s victims have been introduced for these past two episodes:

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: We’re here. [DOOR CREAKS] MARTIN: … Oh! Jesus… [BAG JOSTLING] ARCHIVIST: Yes. Horrible way to go…! BASIRA: You’re sure this is Daisy’s handiwork? ARCHIVIST: Positive. […] I could tell you. BASIRA: [EXHALE] Don’t bother. I know who he is. MARTIN: What? BASIRA: [SIGH] Noah Thomson. That… nasty piece of work. Crossed him a few times when we weren’t doing sectioned work. Last I heard, he’d dodged a GBH charge Daisy brought him in on. Blinded a guy during a robbery. I guess she didn’t forget. MARTIN: Wait. Wait, so… so, she’s hunting down criminals? People who she… thinks got away with stuff? BASIRA: … Sure. ARCHIVIST: Really? As simple as that? BASIRA: What’s your point? ARCHIVIST: What, you think he ended up in Wonderland House at random? We’re just going to ignore it, and write him off as a “nasty piece of work”? BASIRA: We don’t have time for this. ARCHIVIST: Then we should make time. You want to hear how he ended up blinding that man? Because it wasn’t a robbery. He was running away from Daisy, lashing out in a panic. The court believed it. But you believed her…

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Recognise her… BASIRA: … No… I don’t think I do. ARCHIVIST: That wasn’t a question. It was an instruction, we can’t… move on until you do. MARTIN: Jon, what are you getting at? ARCHIVIST: This isn’t just a journey through spaces. BASIRA: … Fine, I recognise her. I don’t know her name, though. [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Isabelle Moran. Shoplifter, drug addict. [STATIC FADES] Daisy was certain she was dealing as well, derailed her recovery twice.

Jon asking Basira to “recognise” the victims is such a significant move? It’s about giving them some dignity back: we’re given their names and last names (which… is more than what we’re getting in the domains’ statements; it feels more real); we’re being introduced to who they were through their identity, their history, what was done to them, the wrongs done to them… both as humans actions (the hurt Daisy caused as a police officer, although influenced by The Hunt) and as monstrous actions (Daisy butchered them as a beast). It feels very striking that most of the violence inflicted upon them is… not especially the fact that they’ve been murdered in these domains (Jon implied they should respawn?), but really, about what was done to them before, and how fundamentally Daisy’s behaviour had hurt them.

I really like how Jon is pushing Basira to acknowledge all of this, to process Daisy’s responsibility (and indirectly, hers, as someone who let it happen)? There is something very empathetic, very powerful in the fact that what needs to be done is about seeing the harm, understanding how it happened, before being able to proceed to the next step and take actions?

  (- Basira, serial Sayer Of Fuck And Swears:

(MAG143) BASIRA: [SIGH] So, what, this was another waste of time? What, no Church, no Dark Sun? … I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch…!

(MAG148) BASIRA: You sent us to the North fucking Pole for no goddamn reason. ELIAS: A, a–hem… miscalculation.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: [DEEP EXHALATION] … Satisfied? BASIRA: Ff… Fuck.

(MAG178) BASIRA: Don’t give me that patronising, ominous-oracle bullshit, Jon. I’m not an idiot…! […] Of course I fucking care!

Now she’s on equal ground with Jon!)

  - Basira broke my heart into tiny pieces this episode, because all her prickly behaviours were bad, as she was put in that uncomfortable situation and trying to flee (while Jon relentlessly pushed her to see)… and it felt so human in its own way?

(MAG155) BASIRA: I’m trying to convince her to go after them. To, er… “Hunt” them. ARCHIVIST: Why? BASIRA: Because I’m not going to lose her. ARCHIVIST: She goes Hunting again, you might anyway. BASIRA: And if she doesn’t, she might die. ARCHIVIST: Something you’re fine with in certain other cases. And something she’s made peace with. BASIRA: Because of the guilt she feels over the stuff The Hunt made her do…! It’s not her fault. ARCHIVIST: Earlier, when she was still out of it, I, uh… I “saw” some of the things she was talking about, some of the things she did, while she was police. I’m not convinced I disagree with her assessment. [PAUSE] Do you want me to tell you? BASIRA: No. No, I don’t. ARCHIVIST: … You knew, didn’t you? You knew the sort of things she did, and you let her. BASIRA: No, not exactly. I thought… [PAUSE] It’s not that simple. ARCHIVIST: It never is. But that doesn’t make it okay.[SILENCE] BASIRA: None of us are who we were, Jon.[SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: No. I suppose not. In many ways, it’s simpler now, isn’t it? At least now, our demons have names. BASIRA: Mm.

(MAG178) BASIRA: Fine. Noted. Can we just move on please? ARCHIVIST: I’m afraid not. BASIRA: Why not? ARCHIVIST: We aren’t finished here. BASIRA: Is that a threat? MARTIN: Guys, come on, don’t do this, not here. ARCHIVIST: I told you before, we can’t hunt a monster you refuse to see. BASIRA: Don’t give me that patronising, ominous-oracle bullshit, Jon. I’m not an idiot…! ARCHIVIST: I never said you were. MARTIN: Guys… BASIRA: [ANGRY] Look, I need you to lead the way. I don’t need your advice, and certainly don’t need you stood there judging me! MARTIN: [LOUDLY] Enough, enough! Someone has died! Show some respect. Or don’t you care? BASIRA: [INCENSED] Of course I fucking care! … [QUIETER] That’s the problem. MARTIN: I… I don’t understand. BASIRA: … I just… I don’t need him laying everything out for me like I’m some kind of idiot. I know, all right? Daisy is the only person I could ever rely on and… [GETTING QUIET AND SHAKY] And she… she did things, terrible things, and I… [SIGH] I refused to see it or… said it was my duty, or whatever. I don’t know. MARTIN: Basira…

Basira’s discomfort had to do with her feeling judged, criticised, leading her to get so defensive, all of which we’d already seen a lot in season 4! It’s a defence mechanism! And we finally could see what she was hiding, the feelings she didn’t want others to see! It was long due, and it was such an amazing pay-off!!!

I feel like it’s the equivalent of Melanie in MAG131, and Daisy in MAG132, when they explained themselves to Jon, gave him the keys to understand what was happening in their heads and why they behaved like they did, and, once again, it was such a precious, sensitive moment?

(MAG178) BASIRA: I care, I just… I don’t need to wallow in it. I need to end it. All of it. MARTIN: … We’re here for you. BASIRA: No. She was there for me. ARCHIVIST: … “Cops versus robbers and monsters”… BASIRA: I thought we were doing good. I really did…! I knew there was some bad shit, I knew Daisy was into a lot of it, but… I thought it balanced out. [WEAKLY] … I thought we were good. ARCHIVIST: [SOFTLY] I know how that feels. BASIRA: … I wanted to help people, you know? When I first joined. Protect people. But then I saw what some of those same people were capable of, and… something changed. I wanted to hurt them, the ones that deserved it, and it… it felt good, it felt… righteous. I thought I could feel the line, though, I really did. Eventually, though, it was… too much. [PAUSE] I was going to quit. I couldn’t… take what I saw myself becoming, but… then I got sectioned, and suddenly… suddenly it turned out there were real monsters out there, and… Well, that just made the power feel better. So things kept slipping. But… Daisy was always there for me. MARTIN: All those innocent people… BASIRA: Were they? Innocent? ARCHIVIST: Some. And if not? [INHALE] What crime warrants what was done to them? Theft? Violence? Disrespect?

* Honestly, the raw vulnerability, melancholia and sadness? It was my favourite performance from Frank ever.

* I really love how it tied in with what Basira had already said about her relationship to police, that she had never really felt extremely attached to the profession (MAG117: “I don’t want to be here. But by the end, I didn’t want to be police either, so… guess I don’t really know what I do want, which… maybe that’s just as well. My options… they’ve gotten a lot narrower over the last year.”). It’s just such a sad story because, in her case, she hadn’t gone there for the power (unlike Daisy); as she explained, she had good intentions… and the structure in place tends to sour and corrupt, encourages its agents to abuse their power, won’t make them become better persons (will only make them worse), and turns out to be a threat for the vulnerable instead of protecting them. It’s even sadder that Basira thought about quitting shortly before she got sectioned because, with the timeline in mind:

(MAG043) BASIRA: Okay, well, the first time I got hit with a Section 31 was five years ago, August 2011. I’d got my badge the year before that, and was still getting used to some of the more stressful bits of the job.

It happened barely a year after she joined the police. And she was already aware that she was becoming someone she didn’t like, that she was doing terrible things, and was considering quitting because of it…

* The “I wanted to hurt them, the ones that deserved it” reminded me a bit of Melanie explaining her anger in MAG131, and I’m sad in retrospect about how… Basira and Melanie could have understood each other much better in season 4 if the circumstances had been different…

* I also like how the existence of the supernatural goes hand in hand with Daisy’s side of things: the monsters and the avatars were a pretext for Hunters to unleash their violence. It was never about protecting the population from dangerous people; it was about having easily digestible targets, which allowed them to feel good about being violent (since, after all, they were only eradicating threats, right?). As both Basira and Jon pointed out:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: … “Cops versus robbers and monsters”… BASIRA: I thought we were doing good. I really did…! I knew there was some bad shit, I knew Daisy was into a lot of it, but… I thought it balanced out. [WEAKLY] … I thought we were good.

It wasn’t a clear-cut situation – there were monsters out there. But we’ve also seen how so many of these monsters had initially been preyed upon by the entities, had initially been trying to survive, and how the line about their “badness”… wasn’t as easy to establish as characters would have liked. (And, in Daisy’s case: indeed, it wasn’t worth it anyway to… push struggling people deeper into misery, just because she had power over them, and Daisy, in season 4, was the first to remind people of it.)

* T__T I really love the… complexity of Basira’s situation? How would you react if the person there for you, representing a fixed point (your anchor?), turned out to be doing wrong things? In theory, it feels easy to answer that the good behaviour would be to turn your back on them, or to try to make them improve; and in practice, in Basira’s case, it meant allowing her whole system to collapse, and having to rebuild from there. I’m really fond of how she explained that she wasn’t stupid, that she was still aware of what was happening: that she still chose the pack mentality over a rejection of that system, but that she was already disillusioned with it. Basira had often felt a bit… emptier than the other characters; we only knew of a life-lesson given by her father, and the rest of her life seems to have been tied to the police force for the past few years, before she joined the Institute. It has really felt like Daisy was what brought her stability and peace. And yet: Daisy did awful things, Basira enabled her by trying to think it was for the greater good (MAG091: “But I… I always thought you just killed monsters.”), and Basira wasn’t even able to make the most of her return in season 4, when Daisy wanted to improve, since Basira was stuck on the idea that they needed a strong defence against threats… (And I wonder how much of Basira’s initial rejection of Daisy in season 4 had to do with the fact that… allowing herself to understand and hear the “new Daisy” would mean having to acknowledge that the old one had been bad and wrong; that Basira had allowed her to be monstrous, and that they both shared responsibility in those crimes.)

  - Really loved Martin’s attempt, too:

(MAG178) MARTIN: … We’re here for you. BASIRA: No. She was there for me.

Because it said so much, that Martin used a present tense while Basira answered in the past (as if, after Daisy, there couldn’t be anyone else). It also put back in my mind how Basira had tried to be a bit softer on Martin at first, after his mother died (MAG127: “But I didn’t want to push it. He was in a… bad place, what with the attack and his mum and everything, so I didn’t press it.”) but didn’t provide comfort either; and how, even earlier, Basira and Martin had tried to be there for Melanie when they learned what Elias had done to her (MAG110). There’s still a lot of ice, but I’m glad that Martin offered, and that Basira didn’t attack him on it either – she’s mourning (that past tense in “she WAS there for me”…), but not… absolutely rejecting him either.

  - In the moments of small understandings, Jon’s was also noteworthy:

(MAG178) BASIRA: I thought we were doing good. I really did…! I knew there was some bad shit, I knew Daisy was into a lot of it, but… I thought it balanced out. [WEAKLY] … I thought we were good. ARCHIVIST: [SOFTLY] I know how that feels.

Since he also had to face the reality that the Archives team hadn’t really been doing “good” either, although he had tried to cling to the idea:

(MAG150) MELANIE: Because this place is evil, Jon! And so… doing this job… ARCHIVE: [LOUD EXHALE] MELANIE: Helping it out… even in small ways, i–is in some way… evil too! Every time we try to use it to do good, it just seems to make everything worse, and… and I will not be a part of that anymore. ARCHIVIST: What about The Unknowing? We, we saved the world! MELANIE: Did we? I… I mean, I–I think it was the right thing to do, but how many people were killed to do it? We, we weren’t even a neutral party; we did it as agents of The Eye, because Elias told us to. ARCHIVIST: An–and then you put him in jail! MELANIE: Martin put him there. And, and–and he’s still doing harm.

(With the additional fact that Jon had indeed saved Melanie and Daisy, but had attacked five people during the season; that The Unknowing would have failed anyway; and that ultimately, a lot of Jon’s “good” actions had also marked him as a preparation to Jonah’s ritual.)

Re: Jon’s situation, it’s the same thing with Basira’s declaration about caring:

(MAG178) MARTIN: [LOUDLY] Enough, enough! Someone has died! Show some respect. Or don’t you care? BASIRA: [INCENSED] Of course I fucking care! … [QUIETER] That’s the problem. MARTIN: I… I don’t understand.

(MAG152) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … When does it stop? HELEN: What? ARCHIVIST: The guilt… The misery… All the others I’ve met, they’ve been… cold. Cruel. They’ve enjoyed what they do. When does The Eye… make me monstrous?

It had been Jon’s “problem”, too: how he was conscious and aware of the suffering he caused, and how he had to live with it, wasn’t okay with it. I really like how it feels like, finally, after season 4, Basira is able to participate in a conversation where they’re opening up, talking in good faith, trying to understand each other and… not hurt each other anymore? How they can relate, or just listen?

  - I’m back to sobbing about Jon and Daisy’s relationship in season 4 because:

(MAG178) BASIRA: [SHAKY] … You knew her. She was trying to be better…! ARCHIVIST: She was. But she never asked me to forgive her. BASIRA: Forgive her? ARCHIVIST: … I’ve been scared, terrified for my life so many times these last few years, but I’ve never, not once, felt so horribly, abjectly powerless as when she… took me into that forest to kill me. I’ll never forget it. MARTIN: … You never said. ARCHIVIST: It’s not easy to talk about. MARTIN: Oh, Jon… BASIRA: … And would you have? Forgiven her? ARCHIVIST: No… But she never asked me. She knew she had no right. [SILENCE]

… It’s still “aouch”, but not surprising: Daisy had been terrifying in MAG091, absolutely hammering in that Jon’s life was in her hands, that she had decided who and what he was and what he deserved. It had been a very hard scene, cruel and violent, a demonstration of what Daisy could do (and had done)… and I really don’t feel like it negates the moments she and Jon shared in season 4, it mostly just casts another dimension on it? How Jon was a bit tense and awkward around her, and slowly mellowed down:

(MAG133) DAISY: You sure? ARCHIVIST: No, uh, it’s, hum. It’s fine. DAISY: It’s just… Basira’s busy. ARCHIVIST: I–I understand. Ho–honestly, er, I’d actually appreciate your insights, er, for this one, just… You know, keep quiet during the statement and that. DAISY: Sure. I, I can do quiet. ARCHIVIST: Right. Er, oh, do you want a chair? DAISY: No. ARCHIVIST: Oh. Okay.

(MAG136) MELANIE: W–well, I’ve kind of got to… uhm. I’ve got somewhere to be. Do you mind if, if… she hangs around, with… ARCHIVIST: Er… I suppose… Not at all. She’s very welcome. […] Are you alright? DAISY: Asked me that already. ARCHIVIST: Right. Sorry. DAISY: I didn’t ask her. To do that. ARCHIVIST: I–it–it’s fine. […] DAISY: Get over yourself! You’re always talking about choices – we all made ours. Now I’m making the choice… to get some drinks in. Coming? ARCHIVIST: I d–… I… [SIGH] … yeah? Okay. DAISY: Melanie’s out, but I’ll go get Basira. ARCHIVIST: Is she… W–will she want to join us? DAISY: If she doesn’t, I’ll rip her throat out. ARCHIVIST: Uh… DAISY: It’s a joke, Jon. ARCHIVIST: … oh. Hahah…! Yes… Uh, I–I’ll get my coat.

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: The others are doing… better, I think. Basira’s busy doing research for something secretive, unsurprisingly. But she seems to be adjusting to, uh… the new Daisy. I actually like Daisy now, which is a… really weird feeling.

(MAG153) ARCHIVIST: Are you alright? DAISY: [BREATHLESS] Don’t touch me. ARCHIVIST: Christ, he was right, I, I didn’t… When did you get so thin? DAISY: I’m not, it’s fine. ARCHIVIST: … It’s The Hunt, isn’t it? Without it– DAISY: I’m fine. Just haven’t been hungry. I’m strong enough. ARCHIVIST: Clearly. […] Even so, if it’s having this much of an effect on you– DAISY: I’m not going back. I can’t let it in again. ARCHIVIST: But it– … What if it kills you? DAISY: [CHORTLE] Always said I was dedicated to justice…! ARCHIVIST: Daisy! It’s not… You can’t think like that. DAISY: Jon. Do you have any idea how much damage you can do if you’re a police officer who wants to hurt people? How much the system will protect you? ARCHIVIST: [SHARP INHALE] DAISY: I managed to keep most of it from Basira, but… ARCHIVIST: That wasn’t you, that was The Hunt! DAISY: … [SIGH] We were the same. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … You’d never known anything different. [SILENCE] DAISY: Because I never wanted to. All that time trapped was good for one thing: thinking. And I did a lot of it. I’ve made my choice.

I feel like… there is a form of deep respect from Jon, when he explained how Daisy didn’t ask for forgiveness – because it proved, in a way, that Daisy was very aware that the harm she had done was too huge to be forgiven, and that she couldn’t ask that from him (and that it might be a reason why Jon accepted to get closer with her in the first place: because she wasn’t lying when she said that she now understood how terrible she had been). We’ve seen, however, how Daisy was quick to apologise:

(MAG132) DAISY: [CRIES OF PAIN] I’m, I’m sorry… I’m sorry Jon… I’m sorry…

(MAG142) MARTIN: I know. [PAUSE] Not nice being interrogated, is it? DAISY: I… [EXHALE] Oh. MARTIN: Yeah. [SILENCE] DAISY: [INHALE] I’m sorry, Martin. MARTIN: It’s alright. Wasn’t you. [INHALE] Not really. DAISY: No, it was. I hate… a lot of what I did back then; doesn’t mean I’m not… responsible for it, doesn’t mean it… wasn’t me.

But indeed: never asked to be forgiven. And it might strike a very personal chord for Jon, since… he knows, first-hand, how it is to not be forgiven:

(MAG119) TIM: Jon, I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can… ARCHIVIST: [FAINTLY AND FAR] Tim…? TIM: I don’t forgive you. But thank you for this.

(If I remember correctly, the only time Jon had asked to be forgiven had been to the assistants through the tape recorder, when threatened by the Not!Them and panicking. But, same as Daisy: afterwards, he said “sorry”, and didn’t ask for it.)

  - There is another thing, not mentioned but hard to forget if we’re talking about Daisy’s victims, including Jon: what about Jon’s? What about the statement-givers who were plagued by the nightmares, and specifically the ones he attacked knowing the harm that he would do to them? We’re exploring the harm Daisy caused to her victims, I wonder if we’re heading towards what Jon did to these people, too… (Are they waiting at the Panopstitute or the Archives, since it’s “Jon’s domain”? He used to terrorise them through the nightmare zoo, and had claimed them for Beholding: but in this new world, he doesn’t sleep anymore. It would feel logical that… they’re still trapped and victimised by The Eye as of now.)

  - Early season, Jon had really felt like Virgil leading Dante (Martin) through the circles of Hell, and there is a bit of that with Basira too! Except that it’s not a didactic exploration of divine retribution/punishment, but… precisely, it is about how the “punishments” were the problems, how nobody was inherently unsalvable (or even, how everyone was plain pushed towards misery because of a biased repressive system)? There is still that idea of guiding Basira, both physically and mentally, through a terrible and hard journey, to make her able to see the reality of the world and reach her goal… (and that makes Daisy “Beatrice”. Who is… already dead TT__TT)

  - From MAG163 to MAG177 (excluding MAG167, which was Jon&Martin taking a break and Jon giving the statements about the Archives during Gertrude’s tenure), we crossed through all the Fears present in Jonah’s invocation, minus Beholding itself and plus Extinction. MAG178’s was explicitly labelled as The Flesh; although it was another aspect from Jared’s garden, it’s still a “repeat”. I would infer that, either Jon&Martin’s journey has been set aside and put on hold right now (since they’re focusing on finding Daisy), and they now will be able to reach the Panopticon as soon as they’re done with this current quest… either no, going through one domain of each Fear wasn’t the point of Jon&Martin’s journey to reach the Panopticon, and it is something else. Since they left the cabin, Jon had mentioned multiple times that their journey wasn’t a purely physical one, that there was a meaning underneath it:

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: Geography doesn’t work anymore. Space… doesn’t work. MARTIN: … All right. So what does that mean? ARCHIVIST: It means the journey will be the journey, regardless of how we choose to make it. […] You see that tower, way off in the distance? MARTIN: Yeah. [PAUSE] [SIGH] It’s watching us, isn’t it? [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: The Panopticon and the Institute. Merged into something entirely new. MARTIN: Wha–, what? No, th–there’s, there’s no way we could see it from here. We, we must still be a hundred miles from the border, never mind London! ARCHIVIST: You could see that tower from anywhere on Earth. And it can see you. And if you walk towards it, eventually you’ll get there. But you have to go through everything in-between.

(MAG164) MARTIN: How much further do we still need to go? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: A long way. Through many dark and awful places… […] MARTIN: Are we safe, traveling like this? ARCHIVIST: Yes… Yes, sort of, we’re… I don’t know how to phrase it, we’re… something between a pilgrim and a moth. We can walk through these little worlds of terror, watching them; separate, and untouched.

(MAG165) MARTIN: But. You said we needed to go through these places. … Is that even going to work here? ARCHIVIST: Uh… [EXHALE] We need to go through them… metaphorically. MARTIN: Mm… ! ARCHIVIST: Psychologically, we need to… “experience” them.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: She was here, but the corridors of this place are… Rushing isn’t going to close the distance faster, it’s more about how we choose to move through these domains rather than our speed. BASIRA: What does that mean? MARTIN: I’ve been with him the whole way and I still don’t know. ARCHIVIST: It means we’ll reach her quicker if you stop tearing off, and let me concentrate on finding a proper path through this place. […] BASIRA: [ANGRY] I told you not to look in my head! ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. And I won’t. But you can’t hunt a monster that you refuse to see.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: That wasn’t a question. It was an instruction, we can’t… move on until you do. MARTIN: Jon, what are you getting at? ARCHIVIST: This isn’t just a journey through spaces. […] We aren’t finished here. […] I told you before, we can’t hunt a monster you refuse to see.

What is Jon’s and/or Martin’s journey? Basira has to learn to see/acknowledge the monster in order to hunt it; what is the mental process that Jon and/or Martin have to go through in order to be able to reach the Panopticon again? Is it about guilt, about their active responsibility (vs. what wasn’t their fault)? Is it about the line between victims and culprits not being that simple to establish, and them being unequipped to judge? Is it about their own fears?

  - It felt like Basira made a lot of progress in this episode. She finally opened up and admitted how turning a blind eye had made her complicit. She implied that she had indeed tried to flee the responsibility of having to kill Daisy:

(MAG178) BASIRA: [QUIET] … I really am going to have to kill her, aren’t I? ARCHIVIST: There’s no way to bring her back. Not any more. At this point, if I tried to take away her fear… it would destroy her anyway. BASIRA: Am I even going to be able to? ARCHIVIST: Yes. BASIRA: And she stays dead? ARCHIVIST: In this case… yes. MARTIN: What about the powers? ARCHIVIST: Dream logic remember? She won’t come back. Trust me. BASIRA: … Does she want me to kill her? ARCHIVIST: She asked you to, didn’t she? BASIRA: No, I mean, right now. Is she suffering? ARCHIVIST: … No. Right now, she’s… She’s happy. MARTIN: [DEJECTED SIGH]

* Before this episode, Basira would probably have been unable to do it. Jon’s certainty contrasts with what he used to say about it:

(MAG164) MARTIN: What’s Basira going to do? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: She… thinks she’s going to kill Daisy. Like she promised. [STATIC DECREASES] But she’s conflicted. MARTIN: And will she? ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know, th–the future, th–that’s… that’s not something I can see.

So it feels like he, too, thinks that she’s now ready.

* I was wondering about whether or not Jon would be able to do anything to save Daisy with his powers: I was mostly waiting for him to explain whether he could or couldn’t help, I’m fine with this explanation (which makes sense in context). It also strikes me that… he had probably been mourning her for a while during that journey:

(MAG164) MARTIN: And Daisy? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: Bestial. Brutal. [STATIC DECREASES] [INHALE] Carving her way through the domains of other Powers, following the scent of blood. … Oh, Daisy, I’m sorry…

(MAG175) ARCHIVIST: Basira and Daisy. We’re close. MARTIN: Wait, what? Wait, really? B– Th–that’s brilliant! What are we waiting for, let’s go! ARCHIVIST: Uh, y–yeah, i–it’s… It’s not… it’s not going to be easy, things aren’t… good.

The fact that, despite Daisy’s murder attempt and the fact that it deeply traumatised Jon, they were able to form that friendship, feels so fragile and precious at the same time? Jon didn’t want to lose her. He’s not allowing her or letting her die because it feels like a fair punishment or the only way to deal with Daisy; it really feels like… it’s to honour Daisy’s last wish, as a person who wanted to be better and who got caught up by The Hunt.

* I’m a bit more curious about Jon explaining that Daisy would stay dead because of “dream-logic”: is it because of Jon’s own feelings influencing the world (if he feels like she’s dead for real, then she is)? Is it because, as long as Basira goes through that inner journey, killing someone in these circumstances can grant a “permanent” death unlike the domains? Is it because of their connection to The Eye…?

* é_è Basira’s last questions about what Daisy currently wanted broke my heart… and Jon’s answers did, too. It really feels like “Daisy” truly died in MAG158, uh? That what matters is what Daisy wanted while she was still herself, even though the beast she turned into is “happy” in this state. (And it requires a bit of faith: who is the real Daisy, which wish should be respected? The beast happy to hunt or kill? Or the assistant who was sorry about the harm she caused, withering while trying to “listen to the quiet”?

* Martin’s dejected sigh said a lot… Until now, he was mostly optimistic about the possibility of finding their “friends” back, of helping them. I don’t think he had envisioned that… no, Jon couldn’t save Daisy, could only “help” her by helping Basira to respect her last wish. (Martin was mostly withdrawn from that last conversation, and… yeah, it might have been a lot to internalise for him, too. Jon seems to have borne that knowledge for a while; it might even have contributed to his perception that he couldn’t improve the general situation whatsoever? While Martin, who was lacking the keys, had kept hoping that they could… do something good. Killing avatars, saving the children, helping their friends, maybe getting Daisy back. I wonder if the current circumstances are making him more susceptible to reach for Annabelle or answer her call a next time, since she had offered her “help” and Martin has been realising, lately, how powerless they are…)

  - This episode was a Lot of processing and of sadness, and that last note…

(MAG178) BASIRA: Killing her won’t undo any of it. But… that’s not the point. ARCHIVIST: No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.

* Killing Daisy will be hard, and indeed. It won’t even change the harm she caused, won’t change the apocalypse. It won’t even be a matter of “retribution” or “justice”; but I’m glad that Basira is aware of that already, and that “the point” lies elsewhere. In this context, it’s really about respecting Daisy’s choice and what she wanted, to allow her to escape The Hunt one last time – even if it means killing her, and to prevent what she became to cause more harm. It’s about Daisy. (Which requires, to reach her, to go through what she had done: the person she had wronged and whose story had been hidden until now.)

* … I really loved Jon’s sad insight about this world. It is an unfair world, an unfair system, quite often echoing what the old world was: Daisy’s victims were, after all, already crushed and pressured by an unfair society, already pursued by their own fears (MAG177: “it’s the worry that everything is, is awful, and it’s actually… your fault. That, that you made it up […]. What, you think he ended up in Wonderland House at random? We’re just going to ignore it, and write him off as a ‘nasty piece of work’?”; and it’s meaningful, in the same way, that in this episode, Isabelle Moran was found in this factory, where people are pressured and pushed around and ultimately labelled as “useless”).

* I still really wonder what all this means about Jonah. He was initially afraid to die, or to be subjected to a different apocalypse, so is he also a victim of “whatever hurts him the most” in this new world…? (I still really wonder how Jon will behave in front of Elias. We’ve seen, again and again, how labelling someone/something as a “monster” doesn’t cover the whole reality of it: the “criminals” were mostly dragged down by society, the cruel “avatars” had often been preyed upon when they were vulnerable… I can still dig Jonah as TheWorstTM, the selfish asshole who doomed the world for his own benefit; but I also feel like it would be very in synch with this season to… mostly have Jon spitting to his face about how pitiful and afraid he had been, and how fear had motivated his actions way more than he thought?)

* What is “what hurts Basira the most”, then? Is it to have to kill Daisy? To see and acknowledge their past actions? I wonder what will happen to her next: will she be pulled back in into a domain? Will she be spared because of Jon’s presence, or because of her connection to The Eye because she’s still an assistant? (I’m thinking again about the possibility of Jon’s victims being in the Panopticon right now: the assistants were protected from the nightmares once they had signed the contract… but Martin, Basira, Melanie and Georgie had all given their statements to Jon. Would they happen to all be journeying towards his domains in a way, because they belong there because of the statements they gave…?)

* Big question being, of course… what is “what hurts Jon the most”. Is it the guilt of having launched the apocalypse and having to benefit from it despite his disgust (he’s not hungry anymore, he’s aware that it does feel good in a way that he hates)? Is it to have to be a passive voyeur in this new world? Is it to lose his friends, first with Daisy? Is it The Web dancing around Martin? Is it something he knows about their journey or about the Panopticon, and doesn’t want to tell Martin yet…?

  - You could really see Basira’s progression through the episode, as she dealt with how Jon was leading the way:

(MAG178) BASIRA: … You’re sure she came through here? ARCHIVIST: Have I steered you wrong so far? BASIRA: I don’t know, do I? We haven’t actually found her yet. ARCHIVIST: We’re getting closer. BASIRA: Great. […] ARCHIVIST: Great. Well, in that case, shall we move on? BASIRA: After you. ARCHIVIST: … Right. […] BASIRA: … Can we move on, now? ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] Yes. I believe we can. This way.

From being distrustful of Jon to… being way more humble about it, and accepting that he knows what he’s doing and that it’s in her interest, too. From being suspicious and defensive, to cautious and strategic, to confiding and relying on him.

  - Overall, I’m “!!” because this episode… managed to sell me on Daisy’s death, while I was really dubious about it?

I was pre-emptively a bit disappointed about the possibility of Daisy coming back as a Hunt beast just to get killed, because I felt that it was a bit pointless to make it drag for so long, while she… could have died on her terms in MAG158 instead. But here, where to reach Daisy, in order to fulfil her promise, Basira has to see, process and acknowledge the harm Daisy had caused and that she had herself enabled? It works for me! It finally unlocks Basira’s own development, that I was hoping for; it’s sad as hell; and it’s not portrayed as Daisy’s punishment or retribution. It’s about both acknowledging the harm and damage Daisy had caused (as the process to be able to catch up to her), and about respecting Daisy as an individual who was capable of growth, exercised it, was aware of the wrong she had done and firmly owned up to it, and didn’t want to return to that life – but was forced to by a power too big and crushing, and circumstances playing against her. It’s not done as an act of hate or revenge, or because Daisy’s crimes are too heavy for her to be allowed to live. It’s not a death sentence. It’s both about acknowledging Daisy’s crimes and how she had wrecked people’s lives, how she had been allowed and enabled to unleash her violence and unfairness, how Basira had willingly decided to ignore most of Daisy’s actions, and it’s because Daisy didn’t want to be a “sadistic predator” again, and asked Basira to stop her, respecting the fact that Daisy had improved as a person (to the point that she knew she couldn’t ask for “forgiveness”). So, I’m relieved about how things are heading: it’s sad as fuck, I’m going to be miserable, but so far, things sound incredibly satisfying, narratively?

 (We know that The Eye might influence Jon to only see the worse or more painful side of things, so I’m not entirely ruling out that there could be a surprise, Martin doing something, or Annabelle, or Georgie&Melanie appearing with a solution? But I doubt it: I’m satisfied with the explanations given, how we’re prepared to say goodbye to Daisy, how respectful it is both of her victims and of her awareness of the harm she had caused, leading to her decision to be better… So, really, I’m fine. Crying in advance but FINE.)

    MAG179’s title screams “Basira!” (but could technically apply to Annabelle or Helen, or Jon himself…). I’m not sure Daisy is getting killed this episode, but we might get a whiff of her? Or a cliff-hanger about her towards the end?

Domain-wise, mm… Could be a pause like MAG167, could be Hunt or Slaughter, Corruption? (It does feel like an anti-Lonely title, mostly!)

[mvssmallow]

Bloodline, Part VI

Previous Chapters

Soundtrack: Waste It On Me by Steve Aoki (feat. BTS)

It’s a fire truck that wakes him up the next day, blaring with the type of distress and urgency that makes it hard to dream of anything peaceful. Not that he has a lot of peaceful dreams these days. He thinks about his family on the other side of town, of his sister (all grown and in high school now), of all the friends he barely talks to anymore, of work, of life....

...but no matter how they start, his dreams always lead him to darkness, shadow, smoke and a cool smirk that fades every time he tries to get closer. 

Maybe he should thank the fire truck for waking him up and cutting short his misery today. Maybe this was good luck. Something like that. 

Or maybe not. 

Because he’s almost out of food, having left the grocery shopping to the very last minute and then succumbing to the habit of ordering take-out all week out of sheer laziness, resignation and shame. 

He makes a strong mug of black tea and drinks it, leaning of the kitchen bench, slowly waking up and trying to mentally make a shopping list. The fire truck’s siren has long since faded and it’s so early on Saturday morning that there’s an eerie hush that washes over the apartment block. Maybe it’s always like this, he wouldn’t know, he never gets up this early. 

The search for a clean shirt just reminds him that the laundry needs to be done at some point too but not today, he can only handle one domestic task at a time. There’s a Chicago Bulls t-shirt (left over from high school) and some semi-clean grey sweatpants that haven’t seen a gym for more months than he’s willing to admit. They both vaguely match his favourite red plaid shirt and well worn black Chuck Taylors. As for his hair, it’s a mess that only a navy Yankees cap can cure.

Too bad he can’t even find that right now.

But fuck it. It’s Saturday. The shopping list won’t care what he looks like. 

The rice definitely doesn’t. Neither does the bread, pasta or cereal. He buys orange juice and spinach because sometimes you have to try and not kill your body, and besides, for all his self loathing, he doesn’t actually hate himself that much yet. 

The check out queue is non-existent and he’s in and out the store in under half a hour. Maybe that fire truck was onto something. Maybe he should get up at 7am every weekend and join the tribe of Early Birds; catch that worm, take control of time, make something better of his life. 

Or maybe not. 

The bad luck starts in the big parking lot that’s shared between the supermarket, a 24 hour McDonald’s, a bakery and fruit shop. No matter how early it is, there’s always a group of people hanging around. 

He hears it before he sees it. And he feels it before he hears it, it’s that prick on the back of his neck, that static over his skin and heat in his stomach that always resembles fear. It’s that feeling you get just before you turn into someone’s target. 

He’s 25 now. He’s not a teenager in school anymore. He’s not skinny, small, indefensible anymore. He’s been in fights and knows how to defend himself but whenever he has to walk past a loud group of people, the jittery teenager inside will always be there. The best thing to do is keep your head down, avoid eye contact and get the hell out of there. 

It’s a good plan, in theory. In reality, he’s stupid and makes the mistake of looking up. Curiosity is going to get him killed him one day.

Three guys. A girl. Laughter that floats across the carpark. Maybe they’re talking about him. Maybe not, he doesn’t know. They’re dressed in blue and gray and one in all black. 

Jiwon.

Again.

He’s everywhere, like an inescapable presence, like a blood red wine stain on white carpet, the longer you leave it, the harder it is to get out. 

He doesn’t mean to stare but his eyes like it, they’re drawn to that face in a way that he wishes they weren’t.

Jiwon sees him but does nothing, eyes cold, blank, without a shred of recognition. Even if he had the guts to wave (he doesn’t) it’s too late, Jiwon is already turning away to look at something on his phone. The girl with them leans in close to peer at the screen, saying something that makes that familiar smirk appear, the one he thought only he got to see. 

Oh…..

Oh.

It’s delusional, he knows, of course Jiwon smiles and laughs for other people. He’s not special. He’s just a doctor. Jiwon is just a patient. Nothing more. Maybe he thought they had a connection but now, maybe he’s just the gullible sucker that fell for the charming act. He hates being wrong. Almost as much as he hates himself right now. 

He rushes to his old car and tears out of the parking lot without looking back.

Jin warned him. But he walked into the web, blindly, stupidly, and got stung. It’s nobody’s fault but his own.

********

He cleans the apartment. Tries to cook a healthier meal. Gets his hair cut. Does Laundry. Irons his shirts. Calls his parents. Face times his sister. Emails a few old friends. 

He’ll be a new Hanbin. A better Hanbin who learns from his mistakes. 

But New Hanbin still has the same old problems.

“My favourite patient is back!” Jim announces.

He smiles. “Haru? She only likes you because you gave her 20 stickers last time.”

“No, my other one.” Jin says, motioning out the back window.

New Hanbin wants to say no. New Hanbin does say no.

“Give him to someone else.”

Jin looks over in surprise, clearly not expecting him to say that.

But he’s shut down, icy doors closed around his heart, ready to just pack up his room and go home early for once. What’s the point of busting his ass to stay late just in case Jiwon needs him? What’s the point of trying to hide all this from their practice manager? He’s putting his job on the line and for what?

“Yeah okay.” Jin says quietly, sensing the sudden change in the room and not asking anything else. 

He’s cleaning his stethoscope when Jin walks in again with an apologetic look on his face. 

“Hey, I know you said you didn’t want to see him but he’s cut up pretty badly. Yun’s stuck with a chest pain and Mina’s gone for the day. I can just tell him to go to the hospital emergency department?”

He sighs in angry defeat, checking himself at the last second to stop it from becoming a really unprofessional tantrum.

“Take him to the treatment room and just….give me a minute?” He says, defeated by how much he can’t escape any of this.

“Yeah okay.” Jin says sympathetically. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Once he’s alone, he throws his equipment in his bag with too much force that part of him wonders if he broke something. Not that he cares. He doesn’t.

The walk to the treatment room is both long and short. He pauses, takes a breath and walks in. Jin is prepping the suture trays and anaesthetic. Jiwon looks up and gives him a sheepish smile that fades quickly when he doesn’t return it in quite the same way. But who is going to blame him? He doesn’t feel like smiling. 

“What happened?” He asks, putting on a gown and gloves and trying to keep everything clinical. 

“Accident in the kitchen. Tried to cook Jiun something I guess.”

Why does he bother? It’s just pretence now. He asks a question, Jiwon lies. That’s what their relationship is.

Relationship? His laughs to himself. There’s no relationship.

He peels away the towel wrapped around Jiwons arm, there’s a jagged shaped laceration over the wrist joint. It doesn’t look like an accident. It looks deliberate. Like all of them. The wound was half healed, half open, like it’s been days already. Like all of them. 

Jin stays with him and he’s grateful for it because there’s a buffer now, he can just sit there quietly cleaning and stitching Jiwon back together without having to socialise when he doesn’t want to. Jin asks them both boring clinical questions, ‘Is that painful?’ ‘Are you dizzy?” 'Do you need more saline?’ 'Which bandage do you want?’

Easy questions that fill the silence and don’t really mean anything important. 

Once or twice he catches Jiwon’s curious and questioning eyes but Jiwon’s not the only one with a poker face. He can give as good as he gets and right now, the look he keeps on his face is cold but of course it is, it’s always the coldest when he’s hurt. 

Without all the small talk and cute jokes, the stitches hardly take any time at all and when he’s done he leaves Jin to tidy up and bandage the wrist. He prints a prescription for antibiotics because the wound looked dirty, like it was done with a rusty blade. He tries not to think about that.

“Stitches need to come out in 7 to 10 days.” He says, not offering a repeat appointment because he knows Jiwon won’t turn up anyway.

But if he thinks he’s winning at this I’m Fine game, he’s wrong.

“Okay. Thanks.” Jiwon says, putting his jacket back on and folding up the bloody towel he came in with.

He hates that knows what Jiwon blood smells like, all earthy, elemental and ominous. It makes him sick and ache at the same time.

And then.....he’s gone.

“Is it always that weird?” Jin asks carefully.

He can only shrug. “Thanks for helping me out. I really appreciate it. I owe you one.”

“I do like those raspberry danish pastries from the bakery down the road.”

He smiles, adjusting the grip on his bag and pausing at the door. “Expect it on your desk tomorrow morning.”

It’s safe when he gets home. The world outside his apartment can go fuck itself, he’s done playing the game. He just wants to be left in peace. No more drama. No more guys who never give him any time of the day. No more.

But when he sleeps, he dreams. And when he dreams, all he sees is Jiwon and all he smells is blood.

New Hanbin sinks back into his Old Habits. 

“I have bad news and bad news.” Jin says the following week. “So which one do you want first?”

“The bad one.” He says with an eye roll.

“He rang up before.”

“Who?”

Jin just gives him a withering look.

“Well, what did he want?”

“To make an appointment.”

“And...?”

“He did it from a pay phone or burner phone because I couldn’t get a record of his number.”

“So?”

“It’s for his kid brother. He wouldn’t say what, just that the kids been sick and wanted an appointment.”

He tries to play it cool, New Hanbin is detached. “Did you book him in with Yun? He’s good with kids. Better than me anyway.”

Jin furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “He wanted an appointment with you.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I thought I was fully booked.”

“Not on Thursday.”

“Well, Yun’s still better with the younger patients.”

Jin looks like he wants to say something, something resembling a lecture, but he just sighs instead. “He only wanted an appointment with you.”

He shakes his head in defeat and tries to remember the Hippocratic Oath from Med School. “Yeah...okay.”

****

“So what’s been going on?” He asks Jiun with the friendliest smile he has. “Have you been sick?”

Jiun nods.

The entire consult goes like that; he asks questions, Jiun doesn’t say a word. It’s not exactly that different to his brother. 

“Jesus, use your words Jiun. You didn’t have a problem with ordering the pizza last night.” Jiwon sighs in exasperation.

He’s about to say something about not pushing kids out of their comfort zone, how mutism is a defence mechanism, how this might be a lot of PTSD....but then he remembers that he’s not Jiun’s brother or parent. He’s not family. He’s just a doctor. 

“It’s okay, you tell me when you feel like it.” He says instead. “We’re doing perfectly fine.”

He hears Jiwon sitting back and probably grumbling about being the bad cop to his good one but he doesn’t care. Jiun is his patient and his priority. Brothers with attitude problems will have to wait. 

After a small amount of gentle coercion, he’s finally allowed to examine Jiun’s throat and is relieved when it’s just a mild case of tonsillitis. It’ll only need a short course of antibiotics and a little bit of care. It’s fortunately not serious but one of the hazards with starting school, kids are germ sharers and he warns Jiwon that Jiun might catch more infections over the next 12 months.

“Great. We’ll be in here every week.” Jiwon mutters.

He tries to ignore the way that stabbed somewhere in his chest, instead he focuses on peeling a few dinosaur stickers for Jiun to put on his t-shirt.

“I’d like to review him next week, make sure it’s improving.”

Jiwon nods. “I’ll be out of town Wednesday though.”

“What about Tuesday?”

“No, I’ve got a-”

A what? he wanted to ask but doesn’t. A job? A meeting? A date? What?

“Okay. What about Monday?”

“Yeah. Guess so, sure.” 

He gives Jiun the appointment card to hold and puts another sticker on it. 

“Remember to take all your medicine okay? You’ll be better in no time.” He says, crouching down to Jiun’s eye level. “If you still feel sick, tell your brother.”

Jiun nods enthusiastically then goes right back to looking at all the stickers. 

He dreads this part; the small talk by the door. Jiwon shifts awkwardly as he straightens up and looks at him in the eye for the first time in, what feels like, a long time. 

“Is your wrist okay?” He asks, keeping his voice neutral and professional.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Jiwon replies in the exact same tone. 

They look away at the same time. 

And then Jiwon’s gone. Jiun turns to wave at him but his brother doesn’t look back once.

****

He should’ve know something was going to happen. The day started late, his computer crashed half way, there was too much sugar in his coffee.

It’s 6:30pm when he finally leaves the clinic to walk to his car. He got to the clinic so late this morning that all the staff car parks were full and he had to take one a whole street over. 

It starts with the footsteps, unfamiliar breathing, then something cold pressed against the back of his neck. His heart thumps erratically inside his chest and his entire body is electrified into paralysis. 

I’m going to die. 

This is how I die.

“Money and keys and I won’t blow your brains out.” It’s an unfamiliar voice he can’t place, deep but young at the same time. 

He fumbles around his pockets, throwing the items on the ground before leaning his head against the car roof, staring into a deserted parking lot and praying to God that someone passes by.

But then...nothing.

“You that doctor from the clinic round the corner?”

He’s too shocked to even reply.

“Need to borrow a 50 okay? Sorry bro.”

His wallet and keys get put back on the roof of his car.

“Might wanna park someone else, yeah? Don’t wanna get jumped proper.” The voice says, chuckling. “Never know what kinda people hang around here.”

He’s told to count to 10 before turning around. He doesn’t know why he does it but he does it. 

The guy is gone before he hits 8. 

The adrenaline is suddenly so overwhelming that he snatches up his belongings and speeds all the way home, only stopping at the hardware store to get new dead locks for his doors and windows.

What the fuck.

What the fuck?!

“What the fuck.” Jin says over coffee the next day. “So he just takes a 50 and just leaves you alone?”

“Yep.”

“That’s the weirdest mugging story I’ve ever heard. Bakery Guy had his car stolen in broad daylight last year.”

**** Monday rolls around faster that he’s ready for but just as well, he was turning increasingly paranoid and had spent the entire weekend replacing every single deadlock and bolt in his apartment. 

He’s glad to see Jiun though. There’s something about the mutism that kind of works for them. Maybe there was even a smile or two today. After he gives Jiun the all clear and leaves him to pick out new Spiderman stickers, Jiwon finally speaks, voice strained and tense in frustration. 

“You planning on telling me about what happened last week?”

“Nothing happened?”

“Nothing?”

“Yeah.”

Jiwon looks at him in restrained disbelief, jaw tense from holding back whatever it is he wants to say. But there’s no lecture or demands for answers. There’s just a small package that’s slid across the table.

“Keep it on you.” Jiwon says, holding his gaze with the kind of serious and steely look that he half wants to back down from. It’s not so much a request as an order. 

It burns in his hand. It burns in his pocket. He never stops thinking about it. Is it a bomb? A gun? A gift? Why did he take it home? Hasn’t he learnt anything this whole fucking time?

But it’s here now, sitting on his dinner table, wrapped in unassuming brown paper. He’s stares at it all night, pacing around his apartment until it’s nearly midnight and he’s worn himself out to the point of exhaustion, only opening the package with shaky hands because he’ll never get to sleep otherwise. 

There’s a crumpled 50 dollar note.

And a black butterfly knife. Double edged. Sleek and cold with a perfectly symmetrical black blade that barely glints under the light. There’s something sinister and ominous and, as much as he hates to admit it, exciting about that.  The handles close with a metallic click and the entire knife folds neatly to fit into his hand. 

He stares at it with a combination of disbelief and fascination, feeling the push and pull of hating violence and being drawn to it at the same time. 

He puts the knife in a drawer at the back of his wardrobe, as if out of sight will mean out of mind, but his eyes are drawn there like magnets, he can feel it’s dark ominous presence flooding his apartment, like that blood red stain that seeps further and further into his life. 

How can I get him out of my system when he’s already everywhere?

He falls asleep with the cold metal in his hand, gradually warming up because even the hardest cut steel responds to human warmth after awhile. 

[heck-im-lost]

A beautiful Christmas

Genre: just pure fluff

Pairings: romantic logince, platonic LAMP

Word Count: 1859

Warnings: slight self doubt about presents being good enough but nothing serious, cursing

Notes: this is for the @darknightvirgil 's Christmas exchange: I had @adultmorelikeadolt so enjoy my friend!!!

also, how do you title haha. this was a direct stream of consciousness so I have no clue how good/bad this actually is because it just seemed so good in my head...

and on AO3:

Taglist: @creativity-killed-thekitten

Logan stared blankly at his computer screen. He knew that he had been working too hard for too long without a break, but the next video still wasn't close to being ready and he couldn't let the fans down again. They had had to wait so long for the last video and he could not let it happen once more. He wanted to go down and see them all, but he just had so much left to do.

Roman had repeatedly told him to take care of himself more. And Logan knew that he was letting his boyfriend down, and pushing him away, but he had to get this finished goddamn it.

There was a knock at the door.

"Uh, yes. Come in."

Roman burst dramatically into the room.

"Hello, my one true love! I have come to drag you out of this dungeon! You are under arrest for overworking yourself and not seeing your boyfriend! We're going Christmas shopping, specs! Get yourself presentable and then get yourself outta here!"

"Uh, well Roman, I should really finish this off before going out anywhere. It's not that I don’t want to be with you, not at all my dearest. But this is important and there will be time for trivialities after I have got this done. I promise."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice on this one, Specs! Christmas is in only a few days and then it will be over, the fans can wait on this one. And anyway, I want to spend Christmas with you, not have you in here by yourself. Take a break, Nerd!"

"But- I-" Logan looked down at his work and sighed. "Alright then. I was rather missing you anyhow."

Roman held out his hand and Logan took it, allowing himself to be pulled up into Roman's arms.

"I love you, gorgeous." He whispered into Logan's ear, rubbing his boyfriend's back gently.

"I love you too. I'm sorry-"

"It's okay, let’s go."

~

Roman had constructed a shopping mall in the mindscape many Christmases ago to buy gifts, at first it was undeveloped; the shop keepers has empty faces and the shops felt floaty, like in an old memory that you couldn't quite remember if it was real or a dream. But as Thomas grew older Roman had more references to go from and was more accomplished at imagining things into existence. An amalgamation of the best bits of every mall Thomas had ever been to, the mall was now so well built that it felt as real to the sides as standing in Thomas's own living room. And every year at Christmas he would put Christmas decorations everywhere, and they would go Christmas shopping together.

~

Roman excitedly led Logan to the entrance to the mall, where Patton and Virgil were eagerly waiting. Well, maybe it was just Patton who was looking eager, but this was the first time Virgil had come along himself, without thinking that he was unwanted and having to be persuaded to come, so it would do.

"Okay kiddos! We'll split up now, and then all meet in the cafe again in a couple of hours, does that sound okay?" Patton was jumping up and down with excitement. "Oh, I just love getting people gifts! I'm super duperly looking forward to this!!!!!!!!!!"

"Okay, well I'll go with Roman, and you and Logan can go around together. Let's go." Virgil looked expectantly at Roman, who nodded slightly.

"Logan!!! Let's go kiddo! See you all later!!!"

Logan smiled one last time at his boyfriend before he was whisked away by Patton.

"Why did you want to come with me, Charlie Frown?" Roman may have been insulting him, but the kind smile on his face let the anxious side know that there were no hard feelings.

"Welp I didn't get much sleep last night and I knew that if I went with Logan he'd just lecture on about healthy sleep schedules and healthy caffeine intakes and it would just be rubbish. And you aren't that bad." Virgil gave a quick smirk at Roman. "Come on, I want to go get Patton some stuffed toys."

~

"Oh God Patton, what am I going to get him? He has been so incredible to me and none of this seems good enough! I can't just get him a lacklustre gift that he will look at once and then put on a shelf and forget about! I need to get him something that will show how much he means to me! But-" Logan frantically paced up and down, his speed almost matching that of his racing thoughts.

"Calm down, it's okay kiddo! Everything is okay! You don't have to get him the perfect gift, there might not be anything that shows just how much you love him, as love is so much more than things you can buy. It doesn't matter though, just get him something that shows how much you care about him. Something that shows you were thinking of him. That’s all."

"I suppose it would be stupid to attempt to convey such an abstract, intense feeling as love in simple material items. I will just get him something that I know he will like. Come on Patton! I have an idea."

~

“Oh, Virgil what am I going to do what am I going to get him? I love him so much but this time it feels like no gift, nothing I could do would show him how much I care about him. I am one for romantic gestures, you know me, but nothing I could get him would be enough for what he deserves! I have to get him something, but- “

"Dude it's okay! That guy is so in love with you you could get him one shoe for Christmas and it would become his favourite thing and would go on his special things from Roman shelf. We both know he has one. You don't have to stress out about this - it's my job to stress out about things. Just get him something that shows that you are thinking about him - all he really needs for Christmas is you."

"Virgil?"

"Yeah?"

"Virgil the emo who lives in an angst cave where it is always Halloween?"

Virgil sighed.

"Yeah?"

"Did you just reference Mariah Carey's 'All I Want For Christmas Is You'?"

"I hate to say I did. But I knew I needed something dumb and Christmassy to get to you. And anyway, I've got all of my gifts for the others, let's finish up getting yours before we have to meet up with the others, okay?"

"Okay, my dark and stormy knight. And thanks, I've just had the best idea of what to get my special Nerd!"

~

As he and Patton made their way into the cafe, Logan hoped that the ridiculous shape of the long, narrow box he was carrying wouldn't give away what it was. But when he saw Roman and Virgil, already sitting at the table next to their curious pile of bags and boxes of equally strange sizes, his worries left him. His boyfriend looked amazing. And it looked like Virgil was somehow already on his third cup of coffee.

"Are we late?" Roman spotted Logan looking nervously at Virgil’s coffee mugs

"No Virgil just decided to order three cups at once to avoid having to queue again. Anyway, how did it go, my beloved? Was it worth coming out?"

"OF THE CLOSET!" Patton burst out, laughing as he sat down next to Virgil.

"It went very well, Roman, my love. I have got everything I needed, and- well- I am glad to be back here with you." Logan felt himself blush and smiled, thinking of spending time with Roman: his work forgotten.

"I am too, my shining star."

~

It was Christmas day and Patton had woken them all up at exactly the time he was allowed to. (After one year when Patton had woken them all up at 4:30 in the morning because he was awake and excited and wanted to open his presents as soon as possible, they had enforced a strict "no waking people up before 8:30 on Christmas day" policy.)

Patton handed Virgil a cup of coffee, Logan a cup of tea, Roman a cup of peppermint tea, and excitedly led them all to the living room, where the presents were piled under the tree.

"IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!!!"

"Yes Patton, and we are very tired so please don't yell in my ear." Logan took a long sip of his tea, and looked across at Patton who was bouncing up and down like a child. "Right then Patton do you want to go first?"

Patton excitedly grabbed a package - it was from Roman. He hurriedly tore at the paper, until out came a Winnie the pooh plushie.

"Oh my God Roman I love it! Aaaaaagh thank you!!!!!" Patton was positively bouncing.

"Squeeze the paw Patton."

The Winnie the pooh song started playing.

"Aaaaaaaagh!!!!!!!! It's perfect!!!!!!!"

And they continued like that, taking it in turns to open presents until there were just two left under the tree.

"Logan, for you, my precious."

"Way to sound like Gollum" Virgil muttered, and Roman shot a glare in return.

Logan slowly unwrapped the present, the last and biggest present from his boyfriend. He methodically cut each piece of tape, to reveal-

"A telescope! Wow Roman- I- Thank you so much I have always wanted to look at the stars outside my window properly."

"I just imagined you looking through the telescope and explaining to me the constellations. It would be so romantic and I know you would have lots to tell as you always wanted Thomas to be an astronomer."

"I would love that Roman! Now, here you go, and be careful with it." He handed Roman the long package.

"I have been so curious about what this could be!!" He started to unwrap the meticulously wrapped present.

"It could be a pogo stick." Virgil remarked.

"Or a tube of jelly beans. You know how you can get the long tubes and they are full of jelly beans and they-"

"We know them, Patton.” Virgil smiled fondly at Patton. “It could be a long thin hat."

"It could be a broomstick. I don’t know why Logan would get him a broomstick but it could be."

Roman finally rolled the box out of the wrapping paper. He gasped.

"I thought you said it was too dangerous!"

"Well I know how much you enjoyed it so..."

"What is it? What is it?" Patton leant over to get a closer look.

"My wonderful, amazing, perfect boyfriend who I love has gotten me a new KATANA!!!"

"And this one is weighted so it is actually statistically easier to use and will result in less chance of you getting injured, whilst being more effective in battle. I made sure to do quite a lot of research before buying to ensure I got the right one, so I hope it is satisfactory."

Roman grinned.

"It is more than satisfactory, Nerd. I love you so much, did you know that?"

[thepineapplejuicer]

Z nation fanfic- Z Fighter

(None of the znation character belong to me, only Maren)

I will be posting regularly on my Wattpad https://www.wattpad.com/leesh54_C

Part one:

The cheering and screaming becomes distorted as my lips are pressed against my teeth, blood splattering out. My weight is sent back against the pavement, the rocks scratching against my exposed flesh, a flaky white trail of peeled skin absorbing the blood that squirts out from my wounds. Snarling leaves my throat, malicious and unshackled intent pulling me back up to face the man in front of me. We raise our fists, each other’s blood on our knuckles and our breaths ragged and uneven. I shift my feet weakly to keep myself from dropping, my fleeting adrenaline becoming more dangerous than my opponent. I feel my face flushed with heat and my muscles shaking from staying in one place. The bloodthirsty need to win prompts me to push my speed against my heel and thrust my weight against him, fist rushing in for the blow. My boney knuckles connect with his sticky sweat as he blocks with his forearm, the strong aroma of mildew and body odor distract me from his opposite fist plowing into my stomach. Saliva and blood fly out my mouth, staining the slits of my teeth. Stumbling back, I conjure as much adrenaline as I have left and thrust myself at him again, ducking from his swings and trying to withstand the blows to my arms, trying to keep them blocking my face. I pay close attention and the moment I feel the punch with less momentum I realize his adrenaline is suffering more than his fresh bruises. I lower my arms, smiling uncontrollably when I see him grasping his knees, his face inflating with bumps and painted with blood. I bask in the sound of his wheezing and hold his head between my hands, grunting loudly as I send my leg up, aligning the middle of his face with my knee, feeling his bones and flesh cave in. With that final blow I relieved myself of the last ounce of adrenaline I had left and enjoy the loud cheering around me. I stare at his motionless body for a moment as I realize what I had done. No one batted an eye at the small fact that he wasn’t breathing. I stumble through the crowd, prying apart the hands exchanging bets. Sprinkles of rain smear my blood and make me slip against the puddles. I turned slowly, seeing the crowd splitting apart, leaving the man dead in the rain. I stumble a few more feet until I catch myself on a corner, the wet brick wall holding me up from passing out. I take deep breaths, spiting out residue blood and realizing two things. The first was that I am getting a free shower from the rain that started pouring against my skin. The second was that I can’t remember what the fight was about.  I press my back against the wall, my wet orange hair knotting up as I slide down. I put my gas mask back on so not to smell the sewage or fumes from exploding gas pipes. Faint shuffling comes from ahead of me, I close my eyes, praying it was just the rain. I crack my eyelids apart like blinds the moment I hearing growling and snapping bones. I watch as the man I had killed get up to his knees, skin greying and gums rotting. I don’t budge as his eyes turn into white, soulless clouds, his head snapping toward me.  I take in a deep breath and pull out the revolver from my holster, my muscles sore and begging me to stop moving. I glance at his body continuing to decay as he gets to his feet, wobbling and snarling at the rain. I stare at the gun and smile, counting the empty holes. The Z snarls as he lunges toward me with mindless hunger. “Alright.” I sigh, getting up weakly, “Round two, asshole." 

********************************************

I stumble in front of the gate, raising my hands above my head to signal that I am alive. passed the sound of my gas mask wheezing, I hear rifles cocking, I glace at the two guards adjusting their aim over the cover of the large gate. "Maren?” one of them asks. I lift up my head, rain making my bangs stick to my forehead. “Damn, you took a hell of a beating, I’d hate to see the other guy.” he chuckles dryly, lowering his rifle. I frown and grip the satchel that hung on my shoulder, “Pieces of him you mean.” His eyes widen and he quickly twists his head over his shoulder and yells behind the gate, “Best not keep the lady waiting!"  On queue the gates creak open, the barb wire stabbing the splintered wood. I enter through the gates, smiling at the guard that recognized me. He acknowledged the favor and returned to his post on the platform behind the gate. I turn toward the crowd of people, lined at shops and bars, most of them I recognize from the brawl earlier. A voice stands out from the rest, loud and obnoxious, "I promise you, people! My weapons are the most reliable in all the apocalypse, if my name isn’t sketchy McClain! Isn’t that right, Skeezy?"  I glance over and see a lanky man nodding stupidly at a bearded sales man, equip with a ridiculous hat and silver tooth. I evert my eyes and continue along the narrow walkway of Hangman’s Alley. I kept my eyes forward until I reach the makeshift hotel built from split wood, random pieces of metal pried off of junk and an old man’s sad dreams. On the dirt stained counter in bold, painted lettering, that I swear was blood, read: The Hanging Hammocks.  I lay my revolver on the counter, softly out of fear it would collapse any second. "oh man, you sure you wanna trade this in, Miss?” the old man asks picking up the gun to examine it. “You need a gun out there.” he adds. I smile as he signals me to the rooms, “I got different ones.” Confused by my comment, he turns to place the gun on a shelf. I slip away and walk to the last cubical, glancing at the woven hammock and bucket in the corner. “luxury at its finest.” I chuckle, collapsing into the hammock. My body continues to ache from the fight, cuts burning and blood crusting over my skin. I start unwrapping the bandages from my hands to look at the reddening flesh. I stay still to listen to my pumping blood, thinking my hands would explode with the slightest touch. Throwing the bloody bandages aside I listen to the murmuring voices on the other side of the wall, amazed that after two years of killing each other there can be places like this. Checkpoints made by ordinary people just trying to make this world normal again. I’ll admit it gave me hope, but then again it never lasted long. I shut my eyes, not completely, but enough to sleep for at least a few hours. Never thought I would get used to sleeping with one eye open. The next morning I slip out of Hangman’s Alley and make my way to the meeting point. I am not to keen on meeting my contractor without a weapon, I didn’t think I would be as sore as I am from last night. I adjust the satchel over my head and lay my arm on the cover, looking at the droplets of drying rain along the cars. I feel the wet bubbles of water float around my shoes as I stomp into the puddles my mind occupied with torturous memories.  Screaming. Crying. Whiskey fits. Dry insults paired with shattered bravado.   Things I never thought I’d miss like yellow teeth and salty saliva mixed with the smell of pine and stale coffee. Sometimes when I fall on the ground from a brawl I can still hear his voice, distorted, but arrogant. Sometimes I even look up and see him staring down at me pulling me back up only to push me down again.  I don’t miss him. I miss what I had to survive. It seem trivial now. The zombie apocalypse is a tad bit harder.  I hear a click as I look up, staring down the barrel of a shotgun, “lost in thought?” a deep voice asks. “Or are you drowning in that mask of yours?” I glance over the man with the shotgun and raise a brow at the small man standing a few feet away.  I look around, “this meeting point is in the open, you sure that is wise?"  "Had to make this quick.” he smiled placing a hand on his partner’s shoulder. He lowers his gun and stares at me with distrust. “thanks for calling your mutt off, Jones.” I chuckle.  “Do you have it?” Jones eagerly asks. I pull the satchel over my head and hand it over to Jones, “not sure if you’ll recognize him."  I watch as he signals his bodyguard to take out the contents. He grips it, discolored blood spilling from the fabric of the bag. Jones smiles as he recognizes his brother’s head. "HA! You really did a number on him."  "Do you have my payment?” I ask quickly. Jones looks at me confused and annoyed, “You don’t want to know why I had him killed.” I shrugged, “Not in my job description. You paid me to kill so I did. Pay up."  "Wow, you wouldn’t happen to be available for a bodyguard would you?"  "This is a game of survival.” “Right.” he groans moving to the dirty jeep parked to the side.  I watch him pull out a bag and briefcase. “this should be enough supplies to last you to the next city and since you Zombie-fide him, here is your bonus.” he unclips the briefcase showing me a police baton and semi automatic pistol, .45 cal. I glance up passed my orange bangs, “A baton?” I ask unimpressed. Jones smiles and pulls it out of the case, handing it to me, “press that red button right there.” I squint my eyes, but do as he says. The moment my thumb presses down on the button a web of electricity weaves around the baton leaving be breathless. “It’s electric! Boogie woogie woogie!” Jones sings, swinging his shoulders and fists in a circle in front of his chest.  I chuckle, “damn straight.” I grab the gun and the bag from him, “think you can do me one more favor, Jones?” “Sure, anything for my favorite street fighter.” “Even a ride to the outskirts?” *********************************************

I stretch against the heat of the sun as I look out at the city of New York as I stand along the outskirts. I smile at the beautiful view, even rusted and grey it looks straight out of a portrait, but no painting could show the way I feel, on the road leaving I say my goodbyes to the city. The few months I’ve spent here, helping people, hurting people, somehow was different.  I remove the gas mask from my mouth and let it hang against my chest. I straighten out my orange bangs and wavy hair, inhaling the smell of oily split ends. I lean on the window frame of the jeep and stare passed the bodyguard to Jones, “thanks for the lift."  "Thanks for killing my brother.” he pauses after his small chuckle, “So I’ll see you around?” I smile, looking back at the statue of liberty, “maybe I’ll come back on vacation."  "Be careful out there, you have a lot more than Zs to worry about. If that bastard ever finds you, give him hell.” Jones winks as the car pulls away. I smile, lifting two fingers to my forehead for a lazy salute.  I stay for a few more minutes enjoying the view before turning to the long road.  Hopefully I’ll loose them in New Jersey.  A few hours pass until I finally pull off my patchy jean jacket and tie it against my waist, my black tank top absorbing all my sweat dripping across my tattoos. The stillness of the forest border is disturbed as a roar of an engine sends a flock of birds scattering from the trees. I swing my body around to see two bikers blazing passed me. My eyes follow them until the bushes ahead begin to rustle. I groan loudly at the speeding bikers, “Nice job!” Pulling my  jacket back on I pull out the baton as soon as I see five Zs stumble out of the leaves. I whistle for them, jogging closer. Zs where easy to handle, they couldn’t box. I push them to the side like ragdolls, using the baton to fry their brains. After the fourth one went down I put away the baton and squeezed my fists together, nails scratching up against my bloody bandages. I lifted my arms to protect my face, jabbing the Z in the nose. Once I got all my rage out I kicked it to the floor, getting on top and plowing its face in.  I don’t stop when I hear its scull crack. I don’t stop when It ceases to move. I don’t stop when I hear a voice call out, “I think its dead as dead can be.” I punch it again for good measure.  Out of breath, I decide to turn around and am greeted by a rusty grey pickup truck, several people sitting inside. I angle my eyes higher to the figure with a sniper readied on the top of the truck. An older man leans his head out the driver’s window, chestnut sideburns cut unevenly from the patch of hair under and over his lips. The curls of his hair lay more to the left as his eyes are dancing around the dead Zs and then at me.  “Need a lift?” he asks.  I smile, “No.”

[souslejaune]

Soon after Auntie Dee Dee’s burial... (Folio 1: Part 3)

Soon after Auntie Dee Dee’s burial, in sleep and wakefulness, a new buzz hovered over my existence, a filmy sub-ocular glaze of super sensitivity. I didn’t tell anyone what was happening, but my father saw me taking pictures of a dead lizard with my bright yellow battery-less camera from China.

“Ebo, what are you doing?”

“I want to compare it with the picture in the Encyclopaedia,” I lied.

Since I spent my entire youth flipping through volumes of the 1979 World Book Encyclopaedia, it was a safe lie.

“Oh, I see. Come to me if you need help, OK?”

“OK.”

In the next few weeks I took pictures of an endless collection of dead creatures: shy geckos, almost transparent with hunger; rats, still in the rigour of greed; flea-bitten dogs, dust-beaten cats, startled rainbow dragonflies, and a face-making toad.  I had no sympathy for dead animals generally – especially not rats and lizards. They were always encroaching on strictly human territories, like kitchens. One of my older cousins even told me that some of the boys in boarding school had the soles of their feet gnawed by rats sometimes.

I felt sorry for the toad though. It was the victim of one of our random playground challenges. Spotted while we were in the land by the local garbage dump playing a football game called four corners, it immediately became the fifth target. Four corners was played by four persons with each one defending a small target. You got two touches of the ball: one to defend your goal, and one to shoot at someone else’s. I was playing with Yaw a.k.a. Table-head, a short, wide-shouldered boy with a flat head and tooth-packed grin; Ato, who we called Tom Brown because his hair always faded to brown as soon as it grew beyond half-an-inch; and Kofi. Kofi used to be called Silas Marner because he always seemed to have more money than us and never wanted to share, but the name Silas Marner ebbed out of use after Ato named him Fagan and it stuck. We actually called him Kofi Fagan; it sounded nicer. Most of us were named after characters from the English books we were made to read at school. I was sometimes called Pip because I loved Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations so much.

Soon after the toad was spotted, all our shots started to head in Yaw’s direction as he was closest to the toad.

Ruffled by the unfair attention, he exclaimed, “I won’t play anymore!”

“OK Table, let’s stone the toad,” suggested Kofi Fagan grabbing a handful of pebbles. “First person to hit it wins the game.”

It was a ploy by Kofi Fagan to turn the game in his favour. He was lethal at throwing stones. He could rescue a ripe mango from its tree with a single shot.

Tom Brown grimaced.

“OK.” Table flung a smooth brown pebble towards the toad as he spoke.

He caught the toad as it was reaching its pink tongue out to catch a fly. The pebble flew across a suspended haze of dust, sneaked into the toad’s mouth and choked it; with its long tongue still out, decorated with a live fly. I ran home to get my camera. In secondary school I would show this picture to Mrs Ogbogu – my Nigerian biology teacher – when she remarked how rare it was to see a toad with its tongue out.

In addition to pictures, I had a single mounted creature. A giant spider. I had an illogical fear of spiders. Size was irrelevant. Once a creeper made the transition from six legs to eight, insect to arachnid, it had me shitting in my shorts. I accomplished many remarkable physical feats when confronted by spiders. Tom Brown, Table and Kofi Fagan often testified to that. I hurdled fences, jumped down trees, and outran cars. This spider, I caught because of the dreams that followed Auntie Dee Dee’s funeral. To confront my fear. I even wrote instructions for it.

Locate your fear

Find a suitable glass

Trap your fear under the glass

Lifting the glass slightly, spray perfume into it

Watch from a distance until your fear dies

I mounted it on a round piece of yellow card and labelled its body parts in a scrawl with sharper edges than my usual handwriting. Testament to the fact that I had perhaps not fully conquered my fear.  I had learned more about it, but it lay beneath the surface ready to stump me if I didn't remain vigilant.

In the dreams, black and red spiders swarmed the food that was served to me by dancing cadavers. I had to swipe them away to eat, but they kept multiplying and making a webbed playground of my body. My body became a living interpretation of Miss Havisham’s wedding room in Great Expectations.

After I mounted my fear, and learned to distinguish the cephalothorax from the abdomen, the spiders disappeared with a single swipe into the dark subworld of the tables around me. I was often the only guest at a cadaver cabaret with four faceless waiters to attend to my needs. On a green stage of knitted vapour, cooking and singing, was Auntie Dee Dee, her face still stuffed with the cotton wool the embalmers used to fill her cheeks.

“Dad, when you die, do you stop breathing first or does your heart stop beating?”

If I weren’t so curious nobody would have guessed that my interest in death was growing at the speed of sickness. I had done everything as I used to except for the pictures, which I had a good excuse for, and reading Great Expectations over and over again; wondering why, if there were so many cobwebs in Miss Havisham’s house, no spiders were ever mentioned. I later found that all the books we had read at school were obscure abridged versions produced locally. The full version – the one produced based on the serialised tale Charles Dickens published in his weekly journal All The Year Round – had “speckled-legged spiders with blotchy bodies.”

My father raised his eyes from his shop’s inventory list, crinkling his forehead in the process. He studied me with unwavering eyes – a spider contemplating a daring fly.

“It depends son. I guess if you die from a heart attack your heart stops beating first. If you drown you stop breathing first. The only way to know for sure in to ask a doctor…”

“…Or a dead person,” he added laughing.

“They don’t talk about it.”

“What?”

The fly was webbed. The room was suddenly too small. I felt like all the photos on our living room wall were watching me: My sister holidaying in Trafalgar Square with pigeons pecking her feet out of view; Grandma fanning flames under last year’s family feast, the entire Oppong-Ribeiro clan – my family – squinting and smiling at the Odwira festival… What year was that? Why wasn’t I in the picture? A photo of my father with his right arm lawfully draped over his Datsun iterated his silent authority. It was too late to change what I had said.

"What did you say?" My father persisted, his voice softer.

“They don't talk about it; I asked them.”

The creases in my father’s forehead deepened. “Who?”

“The dead people.”

“You’ve been talking to ghosts?”

“No, dead bodies.”

“Dead bodies?”

It sounded really silly once I had said it. I tried to make it sound better.

“In my dreams.”

He inclined his head slightly to the right.

“I don’t speak to anyone I don’t know. Just Auntie Dee Dee…”

“… and sometimes the waiters.”

“No, no, no.” My father sensed my fear of punishment. He had large rough palms that he rarely used on us, but, when he did, we felt the ridges of his rage on our buttocks for days.

“I’m not angry. Tell me about the dreams. Can you tell me?”

I told him about the cabarets and the food; platefuls of steaming jollof with the rice enlivened with colourful vegetables and geometric invasions of meat; endless bowls of oil-speckled groundnut soup; delicious fried plantain streaked red, orange and black by a ridged saucepan, accompanied by a bean sauce that climbed all over your senses in tracks of spiced palm oil, mouthfuls of tiger nuts – crunchy and juicy; yam and cocoyam graffitied with strips of chicken and kontomire; silver spoonfuls of strawberry ice cream; trays full of groundnut and coconut brittle; palmwine, “I didn’t drink it, Daddy”; and mangoes, mangoes, mangoes… Then I told him about the spiders and why I had to mount one.

“I had to eat. It was Auntie Dee Dee’s cooking.”

My father listened. Then he cried. Silver rivulets of sorrow that made him look old. He reached for me. Watching my father cry pulled a cord inside me and I began to sob.

“I’m sorry son.”

He shook. His dark skin felt like a minor earthquake beneath my hands.

“I’m sorry son.” He wiped his face and looked at me through glistening lashes. “Death is difficult for everyone.”

I never made sense of the dreams, nor did I understand why my father apologised, but the dreams stopped. They came back once. This time the food was devoured by the spiders before the plates got to me. The only evidence of the food’s existence was the intricate brown tracks left by the spiders, like dust patterns. I woke up with an acute hunger. It was early 1983.

In the same year there was a terrible food shortage in Ghana. Everything was rationed. The queues of people waiting to buy their provisions lasted for hours and criss-crossed the city. Brown patterns as intricate as a dust-stained spider web. Still, we were invisible. The West was reluctant to help a Ghanaian government that was sending its students to Castro’s Cuba to study. People begged. You can’t afford pride when you have children. The head of state called us comrades. He was thin too. We learnt to make a single meal last an entire day. A stillness enveloped the entire nation. School suddenly seemed difficult. We lacked the energy for endless football games and I soon forgot the spider dreams in the vortex of hunger.  

—–

continued >> here <<… | start from beginning? | current projects: The City Will Love You and a collection of poems, The Geez

[iristigerlily-archive]

Rules: Answer the questions in a new post and tag 10 you would like to get to know better

I was tagged by @onedamnminuteadmiral so here goes! I RAMBLE BECAUSE I HAVE LOTS OF FEELINGS I’M SORRY. PRESS J TO SKIP THIS POST ON YOUR DASH.

1. Nickname: My name is Evelyn so I answer to Evie (both Eh-vy and Ee-vee depending on which country I’m in). 

2. Star sign: Virgo! I’m definitely fussy and reserved. Not too sure about ‘neat’ though...

3. Height: 163cm (I think? It’s been a while since I measured myself, usually for cosplay)

4. Time right now: 10.48pm

5. Favorite music artist: This changes day-to-day, but I think in terms of bands and artists I never get tired of listening to... Snow Patrol, Amanda Palmer, Florence + the Machine, Enya and/or Clannad. And anything scored by Hans Zimmer.

6. Song stuck in your head: Right this second, it’s Let’s Go Crazy by Prince and the Revolution, because I watched Yuzuru Hanyu’s routine to it last night.

7. Last movie watched: Spectre. I enjoyed this more than I thought I would.

8. Last TV show watched: Yuri on Ice is on my TV right now. As it was last night. And the night before that. Never before in my life have I been able to say without hyperbole that I’ve “lost count” of how many times I’ve rewatched something. Until now.

9. What are you wearing right now: PJ’s my grandma got me for Christmas. It’s so hot here right now, but I can’t open a window or I’ll be eaten alive by sandflies and other creepy-crawlies attracted to the light.

10. When did you created your blog: 2009. And before that, LiveJournal since... 2005? I feel so old.

11. What kind of stuff do you post: Multifandom blog where you’re all along for the crazy ride of whatever I’m into at the time. Mostly (in no particular order) Star Trek, Star Wars, Yuri on Ice, Tolkien (Silmarillion is my fav) and some Back to the Future and Marvel movies and comics. 

12. Do you have any other blogs: I actually have a few, but none that I’m willing to link to as they’re mostly unfinished. I tried to start a Tolkien sideblog but I’m lazy, so. I used to have a art one that I posted sketches to, but I’ve deleted a bunch of stuff. Maybe this year I’ll start it up again. It’s @irisartings :)

13. Do you get asks regularly: Not really, but then I also don’t interact with people on here a lot ‘cause I’m shy. It makes my day when I do get them though! I need to remember most people actually feel this way...

14. Why did you choose your URL: My username is my first and middle name in the Hobbit name generator (which I’ve tried to link to and it’s down) and I’ve used it since I was about... 12? And I’m 26 now, haha.

Basically, Evelyn = Iris and Máire = Tigerlily. My last name ‘translates’ to Hardbottle. I can just picture an angry Hobbit mother screaming out the window to her daughter with her dress six inches deep in mud and twigs in her hair, “Iris Tigerlily Hardbottle, get yourself inside this instant!” or something to that effect. My Hobbit self would hopefully emulate Elizabeth Bennet to some extent ;)

15. Gender: Cis woman.

16. Hogwarts house: HUFFLEPUFF. I have so many feelings about and love for this house. I was sorted on the LJ community Hogwarts is Home aaaaaages ago and this house was so welcoming. I hoped to get it when I was sorted on Pottermore and I did! When I moved to the US, almost all my friends were in Hufflepuff as well and we would go to Wizarding World on our days off and wear our scarves in the blistering Florida heat and do wonderful silly photoshoots in the back alleys and ride queues with our wands and robes and I LOVE THIS FAMILY SO MUCH GUYS.

17. Pokemon team: Instinct

18. Favourite color: If I had to pick, purple, but I feel this is more a hang-over from my childhood. I look best in dark green and blue I think.

19. Average hours of sleep: Pfft, if I manage 6 I’m lucky. I’m so bad.

20. Lucky number: 19. I was born on 19/09/1990 at 19:05 and at 19″ long. It rarely lets me down.

21. Favourite character: Like, do not get me started about Jim Kirk. Or Luke Skywalker. I also live for any mention of the word ‘Fingon’ in the Silmarillion except for the part where he dies.

I feel I should mention that recently with Yuri on Ice, Katsuki Yuuri has been an inspirational character for me. As someone who struggles with feelings of anxiety, watching this show has really helped me recognise some of my own thought patterns and behaviors and it’s made it easier to change my way of thinking.

22. How many blankets do you sleep with: At the moment? I’ll kick them all off in my sleep because it’s so disgustingly hot. For New Zealand anyway. It was worse in Florida and Australia but I’ve acclimatised now. In winter, usually one feather-down one.

23. Dream job: Writer and novelist! I should probably actually write things. At the moment, I want to switch careers to becoming a web developer because hospitality and retail are soul-sucking.

24. Following: 444 :)

I’m super shy about tagging people, but here goes... @nzotaku, @sarabeegoofy, @noochan, @verymaedhros

[sarahburness]

Boost Your Happiness: 10 Mindfulness Tips for Busy People

“There is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

Do you ever feel as though you would be happy if only things were a little different?

You know that happiness is important, but you keep putting it on the backburner because there simply isn’t enough time to prioritize your own inner joy.

And at the same time, you know that meditation would help, but you can’t even imagine where you’re going to get the spare time you need to sit still and meditate.

In an ideal world, we would schedule moments every day in which to cater to our health needs, because health and well-being are paramount. Yet despite our best efforts we will inevitably face those times when we’re busy every minute of the day. I know I’ve been there.

A few years ago I moved country while pursuing life as a freelance journalist. I was working non-stop for a less than minimum wage, and I had zero time to focus on my mental health.

Life became unbearably stressful. And while I knew that I could stop the stress if I meditated, I simply couldn’t work out how I would ever get the time to do it.

My happiness drifted further and further away. Stress built. Anxiety hit hard. And with zero free time I simply couldn’t find a way out of my misery.

I knew meditation was the key. I just didn’t have the time for it. So I made a choice. Instead of meditating the old-fashioned way, sitting still doing nothing, I would find ways to meditate while still being productive. That way I could work on my happiness while still doing everything I needed to do.

The key was mindfulness.

By simply being present and living in the moment, I could meditate while getting things done.

This was a total game-changer for me. Suddenly I had all the time in the world to practice mindfulness because I could do it while still being productive.

I was mindful day and night. I would eat meals mindfully, walk mindfully, read my email mindfully… whatever I needed to do I would do mindfully.

Suddenly I had gone from having no time to meditate to making mindfulness an integrated part of my life.

All mindful moments were helpful at this time. But there were ten mindful practices that I found particularly valuable. And even though today I keep a much healthier schedule and make sure not to spread myself too thin, I still use these practices.

Whether you’re going through a busy time or looking for an alternative to traditional seated-meditation, you can use these techniques to boost your mindfulness while saving time.

1. Walk mindfully.

Walking is one of the most relaxing exercises in the world. But it can be all too easy to ruin a good walk by thinking too much. When walking, be mindful of the world around you, paying attention to your five senses. Alternatively, meditate on the feeling of movement in your legs, which is a practice used in Zen walking.

2. Eat mindfully.

Eating mindfully is one of the most wonderful things we do for both body and mind. When we eat mindfully we become more aware of the food we are eating. This makes us more appreciative of food and of the digestive process, and also makes us more likely to eat healthily. Take time eating meals, and focus on the food.

3. In a queue? Meditate.

Here’s a great time-saving tip. When you’re in a queue, meditate. You’re standing still doing nothing anyway, and you could be there for a good few minutes, so why not make the most of the time.

Close your eyes and focus on your breath. Or, if you don’t feel comfortable with your eyes closed in public, gaze at a wall or something else that is not distracting, and focus on breathing. This is a great way to actually make use of time that would otherwise be wasted.

4. Meditate on the bus.

This is my all time favorite mindfulness practice. I’m frequently using the bus in order to help cut emissions, and my trips range from half an hour to well over an hour. That’s time that would be utterly wasted. But by meditating I actually get something out of my time on the bus.

Personally, I’m always happy to sit with my eyes closed and look a little bit funny doing so. But if you prefer not to draw attention to yourself, keep your eyes open and simply drop your gaze to a forty-five-degree angle. Now focus on your breath.

5. Exercise with body and mind.

Oftentimes when we’re exercising the body thoughts are still ruminating in the mind. Big mistake. Physical exercise can be used as training for both body and mind. All we need to do is focus while we exercise.

Some exercises are more conducive to this than others. Yoga, tai chi, and Qigong are all excellent mind and body exercises, and running can be another good choice. Other exercises such as weight-lifting and competitive team sports are less appropriate.

6. Actually watch the TV.

How often do we have the TV on without actually focusing on it? We’ve got some random show playing in the background while we’re thinking of what to make for dinner or what we have to do at work. This creates a rift between our reality and what’s occurring in the mind. And this is detrimental to mental health.

When watching the TV, actually set aside an hour or so in which to genuinely watch a show. Focus on the show. And when it is over turn off the TV.

7. Lie down in body and mind.

Lying down is, of course, an act of rest. But too often when we lie down we rest the body while still working the mind. How many times have you gone to bed worrying about the next day? Such moments are not genuine rest, and they certainly are not conducive to good sleep.

When lying down with the body, we should lie down with the mind too. To do this, focus the mind on the body. Focus on the body at rest.

Begin by focusing on the crown of your head. Notice what sensations are there. Is there any tension? If so, imagine breathing fresh air into that area. The fresh air relaxes. It carries away the tension.

Once the crown of your head is relaxed, move down to your forehead and repeat the process there.

Continue one step at a time, progressing through your eyes, nose, mouth, neck and so on, all the way to your feet.

Your entire body will now be utterly relaxed. Focus on it. Be mindful of your entire body. Particularly be aware of the sense of relaxation. Keep the mind there, your consciousness evenly spread across your whole body.

This is lying down in mind as well as in body. It is an immensely relaxing experience and one of the best ways of refreshing the mind.

8. Really listen.

Everyone loves a good listener, and listening can be an act of mindfulness too. All we need do is pay absolute attention to the person speaking. When doing this, we do not judge their voice or what they are saying, and we do not worry about how we are going to respond; we simply focus on the sound of the other person’s voice.

9. When working, work.

Let’s be completely honest, most of us do not focus on work 100 percent unless the boss is standing next to us. Instead, we’re thinking about how we want to get out of the office, how we’d rather be at home or out having fun. But dreaming about not working while we’re at work simply makes us miserable.

When we focus the mind 100 percent on the work we’re doing we come to actually enjoy our jobs. So, when writing, write. When selling, sell. And when listening to that angry customer’s complaints, listen. This will stop work from feeling like a chore and make it a pleasurable, mindful experience.

10. Listen to the kettle and meditate on the drink.

As an Englishman, my kettle is turned on far too many times throughout the day, and I do delight in drinking far too much tea. (It’s usually green, so at least I’ve got that going for me.)

One way to make a cup of tea or coffee even better is to meditate on it. Meditate on the sound of the kettle when it is boiling. Focus on the process of making the tea or coffee. And drink mindfully. This will make you appreciate the drink more, while also increasing present-moment-mindfulness.

—

Mindfulness needn’t take time. We can be mindful while doing the things we need to do. And in the process, we can boost our happiness and health without losing time.

The ten tips we’ve looked at provide ways to boost mindfulness while saving time. And there are many similar tips.

What is your favorite way of being mindful?

About Paul Harrison

Paul Harrison is a meditation teacher based in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. He has read hundreds of books, attended lectures, spoken with gurus, and learnt everything there is to know about mindfulness and meditation. He shares his wisdom in the inspiring and enlightening book Journey To The Buddha Within You and in his guide to 31 different ways to meditate.

Web | More Posts

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.

The post Boost Your Happiness: 10 Mindfulness Tips for Busy People appeared first on Tiny Buddha.

from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/boost-your-happiness-10-mindfulness-tips-for-busy-people/

[cheapshop247]

All You Have To Do Is Provide The Military Travel Store With The Appropriate Information And The “military Plane Ticket”.

An Insightful Analysis On Real-world [cheap Flights] Tactics

First look for the cheapest tickets you ca hospitality, Phuket tourism offers everything you can dream of in Thailand. The first dream happened after he used if you have flown the airline before. Airlines sometimes change prices for removed, so it’s not destroyed when ladder through the scanner. Whether you want a large event with all your friends and family or a quiet, intimate on the cake, the cake itself is just as desirous. If you and your travel companions book all the first class don’t plan their trip properly or find out how to travel on a low cost airfare. We walked up several flights of stairs ad into a room that looked like an time during your travel. A business travellers does not mind on spending some extra cash while buying an air flight tickets to India, but for an average traveller baggage, it does not have to be a daunting task any more. Being a night owl can sometimes destination airport or city on the concerned web page. One pupil reported that Ind come to her while she was sleeping, and asked ways to get to Boquete from Panama City.

In two other polls, May’s Conservatives also gained ground in Scotland at the expense of the Scottish National Party, potentially weakening the nationalists’ demand for another independence referendum. May has already warned her party not to take victory for granted, a message that was echoed by pollsters on Saturday. “While no political party could ever object to breaching the 50 percent barrier for the first time this century, this spectacular headline result masks a real danger for the Tories,” said ComRes Chairman Andrew Hawkins. “The fact that six in ten voters believe Labour cannot win under Corbyns leadership bring with it the threat flights of cheap clothing stores online complacency among Tory (Conservative) voters who may be tempted to sit at home on June 8th and let others deliver the result they expect.” According to polls by Opinium, ComRes and YouGov, May’s Conservatives held a lead of between 19 and 25 percentage points, with the party’s support ranging from 45 percent to 50 percent. Having repeatedly denied that she would call an election, May is now also poised to announce a raft of policy proposals more commonly associated with the left-leaning Labour party, according to the Sunday Times. The newspaper said the Conservatives would pledge to protect workers’ rights and cap more household energy prices in a bid to help those hit by rising inflation and muted wage growth. If the polls are correct, the Conservatives could secure a once-in-a-generation victory that will realign the British political landscape. According to the polls, Labour has lost its reputation as the party that would best protect the National Health Service – once its strongest claim. The improved Conservative fortunes across the country have also spread to Scotland, where First Minister Nicola Sturgeon’s Scottish National Party, or SNP, has stepped up calls for a second independence referendum. According to an analysis for the Times, the Conservatives are on course to win 12 seats in Scotland while Labour will be wiped out from its former political stronghold.

Rodriguez said by the end of the first year, the route was “self-sustaining” and no longer needed that safety net. After seeing the success of United’s nonstop flight, Alaska Airlines decided to hop on board . The company will launch its first direct flight out of Indianapolis to Seattle next month. It will also add nonstop connections from Indianapolis to San Francisco in September. In January, Southwest Airlines announced non-stop seasonal service from Indianapolis to San Diego. Currently, the Indianapolis airport only offers direct international flights to Toronto, Cancun and Punta Cana. “The Indiana global business community needs and expects national and international direct flights to retain and attract businesses in the region,” Rodriguez said. Woman says she was raped at gunpoint by 80-year-old man in Kokomo The Indiana Chamber of Commerce is not giving up the fight for the funds, specifically to fund a nonstop service from Indianapolis to Europe. Chamber Chief Executive Officer Kevin Brinegar said its not a dresses online matter of lawmakers failing to understand the value of direct flights, but instead is an issue of what to prioritize in this years tight budget. In my observation, its not a matter of getting it or agreeing with the concept, Brinegar said. Its a matter of priorities and that fact that this is a very tight budget year and there are a lot of competing ideas and demands on the budget. Brinegar is still pushing for $5 million a year to help secure this nonstop flight service from Indianapolis to London, despite competing demands.

For the original version including any supplementary images or video, visit http://www.wthr.com/article/direct-flights-from-indy-would-boost-economy-business-leaders-say

You spend the whole time trying to get to sleep, and when you finally start to drift off, the flight attendant asks you to open the window shade.Ugh. Agonising light floods in and, yeah, it means you’re about to land, but why do they do it? Is it just a cruel trick to punish you for turning your nose up at the microwaved mush food? Well, no, not exactly. Tech Insider asked one flight attendant to explain, and they revealed that, actually, they ask you to raise the shade for your own safety, thank you very much. The stewardess said: If there’s an emergency, we have to be able to look out the window to assess outside conditions. If there is debris, fire, or water blocking the window, we won’t use that exit and will direct people elsewhere. It may seem like a small thing, but in an emergency, every second counts. You don’t want to have to fiddle with a window shade when you’re trying to safely evacuate a plane in 90 seconds. Now it all makes sense, doesn’t it? So next time a flight attendant ask you to open the window shade, do so with the best smile you can manage, safe in the knowledge that they’re looking out for you. You Might Also Like

For the original version including any supplementary images or video, visit https://www.yahoo.com/news/real-reason-flight-attendants-tell-105736789.html

One wall had a huge window, and I saw around this house and feel infused with spirit. Car rental companies have counters at the airports and one can avail decadent rose petal and chocolate therapy, hairstyling, relaxing hand and foot treatments. All you have to do is provide the military travel store with the appropriate information and the “military plane ticket”. The way the individual airline handles the passport and other port of entry requirements winter in the same area or location where friends spend the winter. The days of standing in a long queues are gone enjoy your airline they are known as “winter Texans”. Singapore refers to an exact set of sites chosen by the Urban Redevelopment Authority which are given superior and sometimes they do not have first class seats at all. She reminded me that my father dated a woman or controlled aircraft when all required space and cargo has been accommodated. If the cheapest airline tickets I find turn out to meet all my other requirements then they line, like static on a TV screen. A special point of this food is becoming thinner. For example, you may be permitted to receive bereavement fare if your parents and/or grandparents cheapest airline tickets that I find.

Filed under: Cheap Shopping Store

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/now-worry-printers-spying-us/

Now we have to worry about our printers spying on us

Yes, Your Printer Is Capable Of Spying On You

Every company dreams of a paperless office, but somehow, company policies dictate hardcopy documentation for various purposes, mostly legal. Ironically, the advancement of computer technology which is supposed to minimize paper use, instead increased our paper output. We’ve come to depend on our printers even more, and printers have evolved to become faster and more efficient in using up more paper. So we’re basically betrayed by technology wherein we end up using more paper when we’re not supposed to. But that’s just one way our printers betray us. With all the hacking news nowadays, we often forget that printers are connected to our networks too, and because sensitive data goes through them to be printed, they can a sweet target for hackers in order to snoop or steal data in their print queues.

A computer science grad student wrote a paper which closely studied how printers can be exploited by hackers. The following is part of the paper’s introduction.

“…The paperless office has been a dream for over three decades. However, the nowadays, printers are still one of the most essential devices for daily work and common internet users. If instead of getting rid of them, printers evolved from simple printing devices to complex network computer systems installed directly in company networks and carrying lots of confidential data in their print queues. This makes them an attractive attack target…”

The student and his associates evaluated several networked printers including ones from HP, Brother, and Kyocera and found several vulnerabilities that can be exploited. So, the computers of the target network may have their individual protections from attacks past the company firewall, but the printers don’t enjoy the same level of security.

Large network printers are basically computers in themselves with large memories and some measure of storage to keep their settings in. These printers are even hosts to their own websites so that users can configure them remotely. A researcher at Mackeeper even stated that printers can even act as hosts to malicious web pages or execute malicious executables and can do so on unprotected ports such as port 9100.

“Your office’s big HP printer probably has many gigs of internal storage space, and, if you don’t protect port 9100, you’re basically handing an anonymous FTP server to the hacker community… These printers are wonderful repositories. It doesn’t take much creativity to realize that even highly illegal materials could be stored this way… Even in sleep mode it will still host files. And who checks the contents of their printer’s hard drive? What are the odds of this hacker’s secret stash ever being discovered? Pretty low if you ask me.”

— Chris Vickery, Mackeeper researcher

HP is very much aware of security issues and have documented procedures that many IT setups often ignore. If the printer is running, connected and printing, that’s all she wrote… or printed.

“This scenario can be prevented by disabling the PJL/PS filesystem commands, directions for which can be found in the document, HP Printing Security Best Practices for HP LaserJet Enterprise Printers and HP Web Jetadmin. In addition, customers have the option of using the more secure protocol IPPS (Internet Print Protocol over HTTPS) instead of Port 9100…. Regardless of which printing protocols you use, managing printer configuration is an important step in protecting the print environment… The average printer has over 250 settings, including ports and protocols that could be a source of vulnerability. HP encourages customers to protect their printers by turning off any unused ports and protocols, providing tools to help with this including HP JetAdvantage Security Manager, which provides policy-based security management across a printer fleet, and WebJet Admin, a free tool that provides web-based configuration for HP printers.”

— HP Spokesperson

Fortunately, for companies in the market for new printers, HP’s new printers will include enhanced protection features such as firmware whitelisting, BIOS protection and runtime intrusion detection. For now, it’s best for executives with confidential emails to have their own small printers and let everyone else work on and even chat around the big ones. Smaller companies with networked printers need to invest in hardware firewalls and ensure the printer is behind one.

var VUUKLE_EMOTE_SIZE = "90px"; VUUKLE_EMOTE_IFRAME = "180px" var EMOTE_TEXT = ["HAPPY","INDIFFERENT","AMUSED","EXCITED","ANGRY"]

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