#why does it always come back to valve games for some reason

[dragonflight203]

Mass Effect 2 replay, the suicide mission:

-I haven’t romanced anyone in ME2, so instead I stared longingly at Kaidan’s photo.

I like to think Shepard wrote him an email that would autosend if she didn’t make it back, but alas that did not make it in.

-Heavy ammo is not required for the Occulus, and I wish Miranda would stop insisting it is. I’ve never used heavy ammo on it and I’m not about to start now.

-I know Jacob is heavily criticized for volunteering to unlock the doors, but it doesn’t bother me.

It feels more like he’s leading by example – he wants to project confidence so others feel confident as well.

(I was not expecting so much of this replay to be me being a Jacob apologist.)

-When selecting who will go through the shaft, Tali is the first option listed. It’s like the game is giving you a strong hint.

-But then when you get to picking the leader for the second fire time, the valid options are listed at the bottom. Garrus, Miranda, Jacob. You can’t make it through the mission by repeatedly clicking x.

-The send off speech comes off a bit odd if you got all the ship upgrades.

Shepard: We’ve lost good people.

No, we haven’t. And the reason we left ASAP was to avoid losing anyone.

-Opening the valves was absolute hell. ME2 Shepard can’t run, keeps getting stuck in cover, and got stuck in the floor(?) a few times so I couldn’t move at all.

-I know it’s sacrilege, but the Collector Base is not that interesting for me. It’s a rehash of the Collector ship except this time you’re choosing various specialists. I wish Bioware had done something to differentiate it more.

-How does Chackwas know what happened to the colonists taken by the Collectors?

I know they were conscious in the pods, but how well could they see what was going on around them?

Kudos to Chackwas I suppose for keeping that cool of a head on her while she waited to be melted.

-I rescued the entire crew, but there are not nearly enough crew members shown in shots where everyone is speaking.

-For the biotic specialist selection, Samara and Jack are on top.

-For the second diversion team, the valid leaders are on the bottom again.

-At the start of the long walk, there’s a random corpse on the ground.

Wasteful of the Collectors, considering they need millions more humans to finish the human reaper.

-The biotic field is awful for vanguards. Since I need to stay in the field I can’t charge from enemy to enemy like I normally do.

Thank goodness for assault rifle training.

-Is this mission always so buggy? Now I’ve lost the ability to target husks for charges.

-Aaand now that I’m on the moving platforms I can’t charge targets on platforms that have docked but are higher/lower.

This is getting ridiculous. I charged up/down repeatedly while closing the valves.

-And now Shepard can’t turn left/right??? What is going on?

-So it takes an absurd amount of species to create a single Reaper.

Are harvests ever prolonged so the species can continue procreating so there are enough of them to finish a Reaper?

At least that would explain why the Reapers don’t just throw asteroids into heavily populated planets to make the harvests easier. Can’t waste too many organics before the new Reaper has been created.

-Why does Edi assume that the Reapers turned the Protheans into Collectors because the Protheans could not be used to create a Reaper?

There’s no reason the Reapers couldn’t do both. First use the Protheans to create a new Reaper, then use the remaining surplus to create the Collectors.

-Somehow I missed both shots at the human Reaper with the Cain, so I’ll be doing this the hard way.

-Shepard to TIM: Some of them gave their lives for this mission.

No, they did not.

How hard would it have been for Bioware to tweak the script to account for no one dying?

-Shepard accuses TIM of wanting to grow their own Reaper next.

That would actually have been an interesting twist for ME3. TIM thinks he’s growing a Reaper that will serve him; that Reaper fully intends to join the rest.

You face him as the end game boss. If your reputation is high enough, you can talk him into suicide. If not, he willingly steps into a pod and melts into it. Then you have to face the full grown Reaper he grew. Somehow that leads to the endings.

It’d mirror the end of ME1.

(Look, TIM growing a Reaper is less absurd than TIM somehow managing to override the indoctrination of Reaper troops, okay?)

-I thought one companion always argues to keep the base and one to destroy it, but Kasumi never argued to keep the base. Maybe that’s because Miranda was telling TIM to fuck off?

-Why is it Joker that comes out to defend the ship?

I know that practically speaking it’s because Joker is the only Bioware can be certain will be alive and not with Shepard, but realistically he’s one of the worst choices. We still need him to get us out of here and he can’t do that with broken arms from recoil.

Would it have been that hard to model one of the others?

-And TIM’s real motivations come out. He wanted to use the base’s technology to establish human (Cerberus) dominance. Saving the colonists was just a nice bonus.

-Shepard specifically says that Harbringer is coming.

ME2 spends the entire game building a personal enmity between Shepard and Harbringer, so of course ME3 throws that out and does nothing with it. I’ve lost track of how many hooks ME2 provided that ME3 discarded.

-If you go paragon, you can tell Joker to lose TIM’s channel.

Is this supposed to be a callback to Shepard hanging up on the Council throughout ME1?

Normandy:

-Kelly tells me I have a new message, but I do not.

-Kelly is also deeply traumatized and in denial.

Kelly: Back to the old Kelly

Girl, you’re supposed to be a psychologist. You should know that’s not happening. Start researching PTSD coping mechanisms and schedule sessions with the crew.

-It’s rather amusing that Jacob notes that Cerberus is your enemy now while he’s still displaying the Cerberus logo on his armor.

Jacob, just take a sharpie and scribble it out. No need to throw away a perfectly good set of armor.

-The cargo bay has been miraculously repaired already.

-Everyone comments on the base’s destruction, except Jack who still has nothing to say to me.

Her turn around in ME3 is very impressive. I wonder how many players were turned off by her in ME2 and only started to like her then?

-Well, neither Zaed nor Kasumi comment either but that’s more to do with them being DLC characters and not following the same dialogue patterns as the others.

-Zaed is quite complimentary of Joker. He says he performed very well.

I assume this line is supposed to play after the crew is kidnapped.

-Miranda still sounds like she’s convincing herself that destroying the base was the right choice even though TIM wanted it intact.

I think she’s in shock from realizing the full implications of quitting Cerberus. She’s spent her entire life with them; now she can’t go back and will need to rebuild her life from scratch.

And she knows how dangerous Cerberus is. They’ll come after her.

So even though it was the right choice, it’s understandable she needs some time to process. She changed her entire life’s trajectory in a snap moment decision.

-Legion says that platforms normally host a max of 100 programs. He consists of over one thousand.

Why aren’t there more platforms like Legion?

He says that mobile platforms always operate in networks, but there’s no reason that network can’t be within one platform. He’s a network.

The geth must see the value in one platform being able to travel freely on its own and not losing intelligence if other platforms are destroyed. There are millions if not billions of geth; they’re not held back by numbers.

So why not more independent platforms?

I feel like there’s potentially more here about geth psychology. They’re reluctant to be alone, even in platforms. They don’t need multiple platforms. They want multiple platforms. Even if platforms aren’t really geth – geth are the programs inside them – they prefer being together to being alone.

-An individual geth is about a VI. It’s only when there are multiple programs that they form a gestalt intelligence.

-Edi says that Legion contacted a minds the size of a galactic arm.

I wish ME3 had done more with this. The potential intelligence of the geth on that scale is fascinating. It could have been a huge asset to the war effort – not as bodies on the field, but in directing the war effort or R&D.

So of course ME3 ignored it completely.

-Legion asks Edi how she manages being alone.

I think the geth fundamentally struggle with understanding organics as individuals the same way I struggle with understanding how numerous programs form a single intelligence. They understand the concept, but not how it actually works.

That’s probably one of their biggest hurdles in understanding organic behavior and motivations. They just don’t get what individuality.

-In the log Legion shares, the platform refers to itself as a unit. The quarian refers to it by number.

That’s a high level of depersonalization. Humans will quickly name anything they interact with regularly and begin anthropomorphizing it.

If humans interacted with geth, they’d give then a name ASAP and begin attributing personality traits to them – hell, that’s exactly what Shepard did!

(That should have been a clue. If the quarians had referred to platforms by name, Legion would have understood what Shepard was doing when he asked him for his name.)

Obviously quarians are another species, but they love machines. They include their ships in their names! So I think the unit being referred to as number was a deliberate effort by the quarian to not grow attached to the geth and not see them as more than things.

But why?

Legion says this was not the first time that a unit had asked a quarian if they had a soul, but the first time a quarian was afraid of the question. Were the quarians already starting to recognize that the geth were sapient and desperately in denial? Was there a push to treat the geth as mere machines in hopes that would prevent them from becoming more? They knew they were brushing the line of AI, even if they were careful to never intentionally cross it.

Also, in Legion’s loyalty mission he’s adamant against the geth being anthromorphized. I’m curious how this ties into the quarians refusing to treat the geth such. After all, the unit wanted to know if it had a soul like the quarians revered so highly – what is that, if not wanting the quarians to see the geth as like them?

(The geth don’t want Shepard to anthropomorphize them. They want the quarians to do so.)

Post Suicide Mission

And that is Mass Effect 2 done!

Except, not quite. I still have to do the Firewalker DLC to unlock the rest of Legion’s conversations, and then finish up with Arrival.

So while I really want to move on to ME3, there’s a bit more to go.

At least I have my Insanity II trophy. It was hard at the start, but got much easier as the game went along… At least, when Charge worked. Here’s to hoping it’s more reliable in ME3.

[zarla-s]

Got a few human-related asks, so might as well combine them into one post! Spoilers for Undertale, obviously. DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS ALL JUST MY OPINION AND IS NOT A STATEMENT OF FACT IN ANY WAY.

I’ve always interpreted that line as a metaphor. At the end of the game, the being addressing me is... me. Myself. Radic, in this case, haha. After all, that’s how they introduce themselves... they use my game name. They’re the most potent distillation of my own curiousity - I did the run simply because I was curious, because I wanted to see what would happen. And if any other part of me had been strong enough or powerful enough, I would have stopped myself. But I didn’t! The one in “control”, the part of myself that was stronger than all the others, is the being that addresses me at the end. The demon that comes when you call its name, the feeling I get when numbers go up. My curiousity! It was a real moment of self-reflection for me. I feel like I’m really in the minority here with how I took the last scene though, haha.

As for the other fallen humans, honestly, I don’t really think about them at all. If you really want to pull back and look at Undertale as a game, the other six humans weren’t really “humans” at all anyway... they were just npcs like all the other characters in the game, equally scripted and created to serve a purpose for the actual human to come. The only real “human” in the game is the player. But I’ve also at times speculated about them just being failed runs from the same player they don’t remember, OR previous runs done by people who owned the game before you, or vague things along those lines. Admittedly I don’t really spend a lot of time thinking about them though! They don’t really interest me like the actual real human player does, haha.

I haven’t read any stories solely about the human that I’ve liked to be honest lol. I’m just not interested in any story that focuses on Frisk/the fallen child, they always feel “OOC” because they don’t reflect my personal experiences with the game, which I realize is an unreasonable expectation and is entirely on me, haha. I’m not asking anyone to accomodate me! I just prefer to read about the other characters as a result.

And I see Frisk/the fallen child as one player! The same person outside the game just making different choices. After all, I did a murder run and a pacifist run, and I’m just one person, and the game was addressing me throughout both of them. I was capable of both things! Both those elements of myself exist in one mind. But again I know this is a deeply unpopular opinion, haha.

This is a tricky question, since it’s hard for me to imagine myself not doing the run for various reasons, haha. But honestly... I don’t think I’d really think about them at all? The murder run made me analyze why I didn’t really think about them or notice them, but...

One of the things about Frisk that makes it so hard for me to see them as anything more than a vessel is that Frisk is almost entirely empty space. We know practically nothing about them. All of the instances of Frisk moving on their own volition are so small and ambiguous that they just easily fall into the category of things I would’ve done anyway.

Actually, a good contrast here would be comparing Frisk to Kris from Deltarune. Kris, in comparison, does feel like their own established character, and the reason for that is because Kris exists within the game’s world without me. Kris has relationships with their family and friends, they existed before I started playing the game, they were a person before I took control of them (which I highly suspect will be a key theme in Deltarune). While who Kris is exactly is still unclear since the game isn’t finished, Kris feels like a person to me in a way that Frisk does not. Gordon Freeman is a similar case. While what characterization he has is pretty thin on the ground, Gordon still existed in the Half-Life world before I started playing, and likewise, Kris also existed in the Deltarune world before I started playing. Even though both of them are entirely silent protagonists who never reveal any of their internal thoughts or feelings about what’s happening, they have a history that doesn’t involve me.

Frisk, in contrast, has nothing establishing them in the world of Undertale at all. They might as well just pop into existence the second you hit start. They have no history before they fell - we never even find out why they want to leave the Underground so badly. Their defining trait, determination, is entirely motive-less. They’re just doing things for the apparent sake of doing them - just like a human player. They have no family, friends, background, history, jobs, hobbies, likes, dislikes, nothing. They are in all ways a complete and total outsider to the Undertale world - just like the human player. There’s literally nothing else there by design.

(Ironically, the first child has more history than Frisk does... barely. But their close meta ties to the player and the player’s experience just leaves me utterly uninterested in that aspect of their existence. Sort of a forest for the trees situation.)

If I never did the murder run, I doubt Frisk would even register as a character in my mind to think about, and I doubt I’d even think about the fact I felt that way about them. I’d have no reason to! Thinking back to when I first beat the game (a pacifist run), I don’t remember thinking about Frisk at all. It was all about me and what I’d done and what I’d accomplished and the friends I’d made. I’d probably use Frisk the same way I use them now - as a way of showing my own actions or thoughts or interactions with the existing characters. A proxy for myself. Though they’d probably do nicer things more often and be less “player-like” in their demeanor or choices. I might just replace them with my own avatar entirely.

For me not to do a murder run, the ability to do one would practically have to be removed, so I probably wouldn’t explore the hideous things you can do as a player with them too often either. Without prompting, I might not think too hard about the intersection of player and avatar and the real consequences of my actions at all... and without that, who knows if I would’ve even gotten as deep into Undertale as I did? I might’ve just wrote it off as a cute RPG and that would have been that...

[ketsuarting]

The Dealer - Frieda Blumenhaus! This OC is.... kind of my obsession atm haha. She does NOT deal drugs. Not primarily anyways. She more or less runs a oddity shop which is 80% cursed items and 20% weird stuff. People usually don’t go there to buy the things in stock though (only weird tourists and magicians do that). The shop also offer a commissions service where you basically go ‘I need this very specific item in a week’ and she’ll somehow get her hands on it.  Frieda herself is not a person you would expect anywhere near Teufort since she despises violence and as a narvous lisp whenever intimidated. Since I imagin there being a small setteling being in Teufort with OTHER people besides the mercs I guess she would live there. Which is also the reason why she is green! since BLU and RED respresent the teams and purple the neutral parties MANAGING those teams I call dibs on green being for normalass civilians who have no direct affiliation with anything regarding MANN Co. GOD this OC is such a product of how I have come to know tf2.  For the longest time I did NOT know that Team Fortress was a game by Valve. Heck I didn’t even know what Steam or Valve really was. I know this franchise for like.... 6 years now? maybe longer and for the longest time I just thought it was an accumulation of fancontent. Youtube never introduced me to the gameplay and the comics on their own are sort of isolated enough? I never was someone who would ig very deep, I would just consume everything I could find by link hopping from one post to another. Two years ago i found out that the game Team Fortress 2 exists, but back then I didn’t quit connect that the funny video I watched all my childhood were in direct inspiration to THAT VERY GAME. Just recently, a couple of months ago, my brain made this connection. And now I am here! Subsequently this OC too is the product of not being fully aware that well... this is a shooter capture the flag kinda game. I always thought it was just mercenaries being weird as fuck with some magic sprinkled in it for good measure. SO yea :) I kind of missed the OC Revolution in the tf2 tag, but honestly I am kind of happy that there has been carved out a space for people to just go ham :)

[realcube]

the heart || kei tsukishima x reader

 summary: modern au! you and tsukishima are supposed to dissect a lamb heart in biology but it doesn’t go to plan

tw// cussing, the dissection of a lamb heart, blood, biology 🤢

my excuse: this is based on a true story and i wrote it at like 3am - read at your own expense. this is probably the worst piece i’ve every written.

“Geez, why are you complaining? You literally just play Cool Maths Games during every period of Biology and now that we actually have to do something you become a whiny bitch.” Tsukishima clicked his tongue, slipping his phone back into his pocket while adjusting his headphones so they hung around his neck, rather than having to take them off because they were apart of his look at this point.

You tossed your head back upon hearing the news that you’d actually have to do something in class for a change, “Exactly! Biology is supposed to be the one class where I am not bombarded with work. Just last period, I drew at least fifty stupid fucking graphs! For what? To find x? To hell with your x !” You cried, running a hand through your hair to make sure you didn’t mess it up because you spent way too long straightening it this morning for a swift movement of your neck to mess it all up. 

Tsukishima sighed, hesitantly rubbing your back as you genuinely seemed quite stressed, “It’ll be fine, and it’s not like we’re learning anything new. We have already studied the heart, I think it was last year; we’re only doing the experiment now because we couldn’t to do it last year for some reason.” Tsukishima mumbled, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he noticed that he was doing a decent job of reassuring you as your hair was no long standing on its ends. 

“Plus,” He said, flicking his pencil with his fingers, “This’ll be cool! The heart is quite an interesting organ, it’ll be fun to actually get hands-on and see the chambers and valves up close, don’t you think?” He added, seeming a bit too enthusiastic about dissecting a lamb heart - it was kinda creepy.

After you finished loudly judging him, you pulled out your phone from your pocket and absently went to snapchat, to send your streaks. “Yeah, whatever. Get in ‘ere with me Tsukishima, will you?” It was hardly a request as before he even had time to process what you had just asked him, you had taken a selfie of you and him with the indie filter, wrote ‘streaks’ on it and sent it to your whole best friend’s list. 

It took him a moment to react to what you just did but when he noticed you typing away to your friend, he let out a breathy sigh. Usually, he’d be fuming by your action but he had to admit, he looked pretty good in that picture - especially because he barely had any nice candid photos of himself. “Send that to me - but without the stupid caption.” Was all he could be bothered to utter.

You hummed in agreement, “Will do.” You replied, immediately finding the photo in your saved pictures and scrolling down your friends list until you found Tsukishima; he wasn’t too low down since you recently asked him for the answers to the Maths homework - he said no, of course, but it was worth a shot.

“I’m feeling kinda bummed so y’know what I am gonna do?” You spoke and without giving Tsukishima a moment to respond, you answered your own question. “Check your Snapchat username, it always makes him laugh.”

Tsukishima’s blood ran cold and his eyes widened at the mention of his username on Snapchat, “(Y/N). Do not--”

“Dinoguykei!” You exclaimed rather loudly, tears of joy pricking at the corners of your eyes as you cackled upon repeating his username to yourself - absolute gold.

“I was, like, 11 when I made it! Give me a break.” He spat, sticking out his bottom lip momentarily before pulling his headphones back over his head to clasp his ears so he no longer had to listen to your ‘annoying-ass laugh’, as he called it. There was clearly no music playing from his headphones and he acted as if he couldn’t hear you when he had them on despite the fact that they were clearly not noise-cancelling - this was a move he pulled often which you liked to call ‘blocking out the a haters’ as he would do that exact thing whenever you said something to displease him..

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow, flicking his fake-ass SOMY headphones but since they were made of wurtzite boron nitride or something like that, they hit you right back, resulting in your hissing and quickly pulling your hand away. “Do you think that your crusty, dollar store headphones can prevent my noise from reaching your ears? I think the fuck not.” 

“I-”

“If you want me to buy you new ones, just ask. How much were they? Or are they hend-me-downs?” You inquired without missing a beat, it wasn’t often that you managed to tease Tsukishima which such flow consecutively so you were obviously going to make to most of this opportunity while you had it.

“They are from the dollar store but I didn’t buy them.” Tsukishima mumbled but loud enough for you to hear, he lowered his head and desperately tried to resist the sly grin which tugged at the corners of his lips as all the memories came flooding back to him. “You were there, weren’t you?” 

“No.” You replied simply but immediately realising what Tsukishima was talking about and leaning in closer to him, “Is Tsukki a criminal?” You sung while wiggling your eyebrow playfully at him. 

Tsukishima scoffed, once again lowering his headphones from his ears back down to his neck. “As if you aren’t, with all the stuff you stole from the supermarket.” He hissed while trying not to laugh as he recalled the time you tried to sneak out passed security by shoving food under your shirt so you looked pregnant - and they fucking fell for it! Or  maybe they were just too lazy to bother calling you out, either way you got away with it though. “And this is what you said before bolting out of Forever21 with sunglasses in your bra - verbatim: ‘If it is a chain, it’s free rein.’.” 

You wiped an imaginary tear from your eye as you heard those words leave Tsukishima’s mouth, “Beautiful-” You mused, about to go on to tell him about the other economic benefits of stealing from large corporations until he cut you off to correct you as always.

“So, you were wrong. These headphones were not a dollar, they were free.” 

Of course, Tsukishima never talks to you without the intend of either insulting you or proving your wrong in some way/argue with you. So why would this be any exception?

“Anyway,” Tsukishima began, his gaze shifting around the room rapidly in search of the biology teacher, “Where is that bitch? I’m ready to dissect the fuck out of that lamb heart if he just gets his ass over here immediately. He always does this.” Tsukishima huffed as this was far from the first time he had been let down by the biology teacher, as well as all of his classmates.

In fact, the whole class had basically mutually agreed that the biology teacher was shit as almost everyone in the class was failing due to his horrible teaching - or lack there of. Tsukishima was the only one passing because he had a tutor but he was still averaging 60% - a C - which was way too low for his liking. 

Also, the biology teacher had a habit of making false promises - for instance, there was that one time he said the class could use whiteboards to create model cells so he rushed out the room to ‘go get the whiteboards’ and didn’t come back. Instead of getting the whiteboards, there was a rumour going around the school that - with the assistance a foreign language teacher - he conducted a different kind of biological experiment in the janitor’s cupboard. 

Be that as it may, all my homies hated the biology teacher..until today, when he actually pulled through with the goods.

He came marching into the class holding a pale bag filled with a dark, red substance and quickly placed it on his desk. “Right, troops. Get yourself a partner, come ‘ere and grab a lamb heart then remove the tricuspid valve for me, will ya?” He panted, rubbing his forehead and bringing attention to his bright red face. He was seemingly out of breath yet nobody has ever seen him run before; was he that tired from walking to the storage cupboard and back?

“Sir, do we dissect it with out hands or?”

The teacher shrugged, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder before rushing out of the room. “I don’t know, sure? Or maybe use a spatula or something. Right, BRB, guys.” Just like that, he was gone. Probably to go rail Tsukishima’ foreign language teacher in the privacy of his own home or something. ‘Ew.’ Tsukki shuddered at the thought. 

“I’ll go get us a heart.” He said, getting up from his chair and about to make his way over to the teacher’s desk until you giggled, asking, “Who said I wanted to partner up with you?” 

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, checking the time on his phone and spoke without averting his gaze from the path in front of him, “You’ve not got much of a choice.” With that, he slinked off to the front of the class to grab a heart and hopefully a spatula too. 

Your mouth was left agape at his comment, mostly because you were unable to decipher what he meant by that; curse his naturally sarcastic-sounding tone! Perhaps that was his way of trying to hit on you by saying he wouldn’t allow you to partner up with anybody else - or it could be a jab at the fact everyone in this class hates you for one reason or another.

“Some knob took the last spatula so I guess you’re using your hands.” He grumbled, dumping the heart which was packed in a thin, clear plastic bag onto your desk. Crossing his arms over his chest before sitting back down at his own table, pulling out his phone and about to start playing some music until you realised what he was trying to do and instinctively flicked his arm.

“What?” He hissed, jerking his head around to shoot you a deadly glare. You stuck your bottom lip out to form a pout but then you remembered that he finds your pouty face funny and right now you were trying to be intimidating so you quickly switched to a scowl. “You’re the one who wanted to dissect the stupid thing, you do it!” You roared, slamming the lamb heart onto his desk then leaned back in your chair, folding you arms over your chest in a bad-tempered manor.

Tsukishima’s expression softened slightly as he looked over, doing his best to stifle a chuckle at how silly you looked with a scowl on your face - like grumpy cat, in a way. “Why are you so mad?” He asked monotonously, shifting his gaze onto the heart on his desk, hesitantly reaching out to unzip the plastic bag which it was packed inside. 

You shrugged your shoulders, biting your lip as you looked down at your hands, shocked at how white your knuckles had become from holding a fist for so long. “My bad, Tsukki.” You said in a low voice, embarrassed at how his simple actions had pissed you off so much. “I guess I am just kinda frustrated with this whole class - mostly the teacher. I mean, we’re literally all doing horribly and instead of helping he just gives us a fucking lamb heart to dissect like what good does that--”

Suddenly, you felt something cold and slimy splat against your elbow, leading to a small gasp escaping your mouth as you instinctively whipped your head over to see what it was - however, as soon as you laid your eyes on it, you wished that you hadn’t. 

A high-pitched shriek left your mouth, immediately gaining the attention of almost the whole class but once the turned heads realised how uneventful the situation actually was, they went back to what they were doing prior to your scream. 

Tsukishima winced slightly in reaction to the shrill sound that left your mouth - “Oh, shut up.” He snapped, rolling his eyes at your - in his opinion - melodramatic reaction. “It’s just a bit of lamb heart; here, I’ll get it off for you.”

As soon as you realised what you had just done and the reaction it had evoked, you slapped your spare hand over your mouth but without averting your gaze from the god-forsaken piece of meat which clung committedly to your forearm. “Tsukki.” You tried to sound angry but the fear was still clear in your voice, “Why would you do that?” Although you hadn’t seen him do the deed, you were almost 100% this was the work of him flicking the wretched lamb muscle onto your arm - this theory was reinforced by the fact the plastic bag was lying wide open on his desk.

Tsukishima laughed, leaning over to pick the bit of heart off of your arm then proceeded to flick it away to some other poor soul’s desk. “There we go. Happy now?” 

You growled - something your friend had taught you to do whenever you were mad - shooting daggers at the lanky megane sitting in front of you while he wore a sly grin which just made you want to punch him right on the nose. “What the fuck was that for?” You snarled, “You know how much I hate blood.”

Tsukishima wheezed, he genuinely couldn’t tell if you were being serious or not, “Then what are you doing in a biology class?” His question was barely audible through his gasps for as well as the sound of him slapping him knee.

You clicked your tongue, wiping the excess lamb juice off of your arm, “Joking.” You droned, turning to eye the heart on his desk. “Go on, dissect the thing.”

[mwolf0epsilon]

What would happen in a au where Wally Franks is with Henry when he returns to the studio?

Oof, considering my Wally managed to escape the studio, married, moved to Florida with his wife and children and opened up a successful business while struggling with survivor's guilt? Going back with Henry would... Hurt on a more personal level. He actually knew everyone that Joey fed into the machine.

So here's his reaction to the ink creatures:

Ink Demon - He's both disturbed by the concept of a living cartoon coming out so painfully wrong, and the implication that it was already in existence before he left the studio. Overall he feels bad for it because he knew Joey was a perfectionist and doubted he reacted well when he got the Ink Demon's contorted humanoid form instead of a cute little family friendly Imp. Couldn't have been a nice upbringing, and overall it just looks painful when it moves...

The Prophet - He always found Sammy to be a bit intimidating, even when he was just a loud beanpole, so the Prophet's enhanced physique and aggressive devotion are a bit terrifying to him. He's not a pushover anymore though, so he won't hesitate to defend himself in a fight. As a family man he mostly feels bad for Sammy's sister who he knows had been desperate to find her older brother. He doubts she would like to see him like this.

Swollen Jack - His state fills Wally with nothing but pity. Jack had been pretty nice to him way back before he went missing. Offered him encouragement, occasional praise for keeping the music department clean, and never made much of a mess, so seeing him like this doesn't feel good to Wally whatsoever. He especially doesn't like that there's no way to get the valve peacefully.

Buddy Boris - At first he's just impressed that there's an actual pristine cartoon character walking about. But upon being invited to the safehouse (which used to be HIS little secret hideout) he starts putting two and two together. He realizes who Buddy is and feels nauseous thinking about the poor kid having been trapped not just in the studio but inside a cartoon wolf's body. He can't forgive Joey for ruining a kid's life over some silly impossible dream, and is unsure if he should disclose to Henry the reason why he feels uncomfortable. The man is a father himself, might be best to spare him the heartache?

Boss Searcher - He can't be sure, but he's certain that the huge monster he's looking at is Shawn Flynn and it does not look happy to see him. He tries to talk the massive Searcher out of attacking him and Henry, but it's no use. It's not like Shawn would listen to him anyway... The man could hold a grudge, and he never let go of the toolbelt incident.

The Butcher Gang Clones - He's a little disturbed by them, but mostly just considers the butchered clones an annoyance at best, because they're so relentless. Probably makes a game out of luring them away when he and Henry have to sneak around them.

Twisted Alice - The fallen angel is a distressing one, especially because Susie had been Wally's closest friend in the studio. He just feels awful about what became of gentle Susie Campbell who'd never hurt a fly, and who now lives trapped in her own mind under the control of a false angel that butchers others to attain beauty. He would try to appeal to her humanity, but Alice is trying to survive at all costs so she doesn't care for any "pretty lies". He mourns her death.

The Projectionist - As soon as he realizes who it is, Wally desperately tries to get through to Norman to no avail. Henry has to pull him away after the third death because he can't watch Wally get mauled to death by the Projectionist, only to spring back up and try again. He's distraught that his quirky but ever kindly "uncle Polk" has become a heartless feral monster. Damn Joey Drew. Damn him to hell. Why did he have to ruin everything he touched?!

Allison Angel - He's still trying to process what happened to Susie so he's not exactly friendly towards Allison at first due to her role in driving his friend to desperation. He's a little bitter towards Allison in general, but his mama didn't raise no brutish thug, so he's polite about it. He feels a bit of pity for her.

Tom Boris - Wally would likely find this ironically funny back when he was a spry young man. Now as he is, a cynical old businessman, he just feels sad for Tom. He wasn't that bad of a guy, even if Wally thought he was a jerk. Just another man doing his job and getting mixed up with bad things... He doubts karma would go this far to punish anyone.

Bertrum Piedmont - Had no qualms with the guy, just his underlings, so he's a little horrified that Bertrum has literally become a colossal wonder of a sort. Wally is a little more shocked than Henry, that much can be said. They're fighting an amusement park ride for crying out loud!

Brute Boris - Oh god no, Susie why couldn't you make Alice spare the poor boy? What did he ever do to anyone to deserve this?! It just isn't fair, and he definitely falls silent once the poor thing is put out of its misery. Dreams don't always come true, but nightmares sure had the habit of coming true.

Giant Hand - Nope.

Beast Bendy - Well, considering everything they've seen and been through, this might as well happen. At this point he's frustrated and aggravated enough to taunt the demon. If he can distract it long enough that Henry could do his thing, he doesn't mind getting trampled to death. Wally just wants it to be over with.

Fun times...

[toboldlywrite]

WIBTA if I asked a donor for more money?

Right, so, this is gonna take awhile.

So I (M Weequay 44) used to have a nice little tavern on a backwater someplace, it's not important which planet but basically a ton of migrants came through on their way Rimward so business was fairly steady. One day this Twi'lek woman comes through and she's got this kid who's about three years old or so. I've got two little girls myself, one the Twi's girl's age and one two years older. She's looking for a place to live and work, like half the people who blow through here, but nobody's offering a live-in position because all the jobs are taken. So I says to her, out of the kindness of my heart, why don't you let me and my wife take care of your little one, and you can work somewhere else on a more prosperous world (I suggested one just a system or two over) until you earn enough credits to come back for her. She thought that was an excellent idea. We of course asked her to send money periodically to cover expenses. And we put the kid to work, too; no sense in squandering our little investment. And believe me, she was an investment. Blimey, you thought two kids were expensive, try throwing someone else's brat in the mix. And her mother was a complete deadbeat, she never made her payments on time, and always some excuse. "Oh, I got fired yesterday, I'll have that money to you by next week! Oh, my landlord took the last of my money, I'll have to sell my valuables!" Always some bloody karking excuse, and booming Am-shak could that tailhead twist the hydro-valve. Eventually she got a steady gig as a dancer, which if you ask me should've been the first gig the lazy tramp took in the first place. But by that point she just owed us mountains of credits, and multiple times we were almost forced to kick her whelp out on the streets. Then one day we get commed someone who claims to be with the prime karking minister of the waterball she's working on. I mean, I'm not an idiot, I've gotten those Artorian Prince h-mails before, but it seems like the real deal, so I ask them to pay off her debts before they come and collect the tailhead's kid, and I say right, now just to make sure we don't hand over her kid to some random stranger instead of someone sent by her mother, I'm going to need a signed authorization doc to go with that. Surprise, surprise, doc never comes. "Prime minister" never calls again. Here's where it gets real juicy.

So it's a couple days later. Wife sends the Twi out to the vaporators to get a canister of water. Comes back and there's this old human man carrying it. I don't know how old he is, I think human ages and Weequay ages are roughly the same so I suppose I'd say the stranger's in his sixties. Stranger introduces himself as "Mr. Antilles," which isn't suspicious at all. I don't question it because he hands me credits and orders a meal. Then he starts being real nice to the Twi kid for some reason. Even paid us to give her a break from her duties for awhile. Twi kid gets in trouble for stealing my daughter's stuffed tooka and he goes out and buys her her own. Karking creepy, now that I think about it. Then the next day he offers to take her off our hands. Of course I tell him we can't do that, and he says the kid's mother sent him and that she's gone and snuffed it! So I says to myself, fine, I'll play his little game, and I say I'll let the kid go for six thousand credits. If he doesn't back right off I'll haggle with him until he does, right? But no, he pays it immediately, upfront, in cash. Then he scoops up the kid and walks out the door. I send my wife out to stop him while I look for my rifle but she comes back all dazed like she's been mind-fogged or something. Never saw the stranger or the tailhead ever again.

Or so we thought.

Right, so it's been a couple years, and we've lost all our money and we're living in a complete dump, I mean fierfek this place is a stinkhole. We're scrounging for scraps and my daughters are skin and bone and the landlady's after us day and night. I start chatting with someone on the HoloNet who says he can help us out, so I give him my address and he comes over. I see his face and who do you think it is? Mr. Antilles! And he's got the kid with him! Well, the kid's grown up now, it's been what, eight, ten years now, but it's definitely them. Didn't seem like he recognized us, but I sure as hell recognized him. He gives us some food and blankets and some other stuff and says he'll come back later with two thousand credits. Now I don't know about you, but if the sleemo what's responsible for my ruin shows up after eight years and says he'll give me a measly dopa hatoo for my trouble, I'm sure as hell getting my due. I got a couple of friends to back me up if I want to confront him about it. WIBTA if I— politely— asked him to cough up a bit more?

Info: how exactly is this person responsible for your ruin? It sounds like they both disappeared before you lost all your money. From what I seem here, I'd say it would seem ungrateful to ask for more when someone's going out of their way to help you. But you can ask and accept the "no," if it's the answer, and that would make you less of TA.

[watch-grok-brainrot]

Hi! So I saw some of your commentary on translation and decided it's worth a shot to ask. Sorry if it's a bother! What is, in your opinion, the most faithful translation of this line? "Who cares about the crowded, broad road? I'll stick to my single-log bridge until it's dark". I've seen a few variations, including "into the dark". It's a minor difference, I guess, but it's such an important line, I want to know as much as possible!

Not a bother at all! I’m so honored someone would ask my opinion of a translation! And your question is delightfully open ended. i’ve been needing an excuse to go down a rabbit hole of chinese and cql! That means if i wander and end up super off topic, it’s ok! (also, this is the first ask i’ve gotten about something not due to a tumblr game so i’m really excited!) 

Any-hoot! The line in question is:

管他熙熙攘攘阳关道 我偏要一条独木桥走到黑

In short, both “into dark” and “until dark” work. But let’s talk a bit in depth about the elements of the line since you want to know as much as possible. Also, translation, IMO, is personal so you can decide what you prefer. Hopefully i’ll give you enough information to help you form an opinion. 

管他 - guan ta -  no matter, who cares. 管 has a lot of meanings: tube, pipe, valve, manage, control, care, jurisdiction, etc. 他 is him/other. In this case, together, the phrase is a VERY casual (borderline rude) way of saying who cares -- fitting of WWX’s relaxed speech pattern.

熙熙攘攘 - xi xi rang rang -  bustling/full of people. Per Baidu, this is a 成语 (1)  referring to a line from 《史记·货殖列传》: “天下熙熙，皆为利来；天下攘攘，皆为利往”. 史记 is commonly thought of as China’s first “biolographical history”. Written in the Han Dynasty, it chronicles all Pre-Han dynasties and kingdoms. It set the precedent of not discussing the current dynasty in a piece of history writing because under the circumstances one cannot be impartial (i.e you can say whatever you want about previous rulers but not those related to the current ones lest you want to risk decapitation). The passage the term is from is a section that discusses merchants. The line can be translated as “Everyone [under heaven] is happy, all arriving for profits; everyone [under heaven] is troubled, all leaving for profits.” The coming and going captured from the source is reflected by the current usage of the term as bustling/full of people. 

阳关道 - yang guan dao - character by character: sunny, pass, path/way/road. 阳关道 is a reference to a road going through a pass on the Silk Road. There were two options onto the silk road back in the Han Dynasty. The north road forces you through 玉门关 (Yu men guan). The south road forces you through 阳关. Located in modern day Gansu Province, 阳关道 is said to have been 120 meters wide (which is massive even by today’s standards!). Within this context, it indicates a well known, well traveled, busy, broad road. (2) (3)

我偏要 - wo pian yao - character by character: i, wilfully, want. So, in short, “i insist on”. Like 管他, WWX is just being casual in his speech here. The idea of willful, though, is important as a character trait for him. He will do what’s right; he will follow his path; come hell or high water. 

一条 - yi tiao - a. Seriously, the first character is one. The second is a measure word for a stick-like thing. This is a fun (aka highly frustrating for non-native speakers) part of chinese! When you refer to an object that can be counted, you need to use measure words. You use the wrong one, and the implications get odd. Sometimes I would translate measure words via “a [measure word] of [something]”. E.g. A unit of person. A head of cattle. A cup of water. BUT! If you use the wrong measure word, it seems really weird. E.g. A cup of person. A stick of water. 

独木桥 - du mu qiao - character by character: single, wood, bridge. Aka a single plank bridge. It is often paired with 阳关道 since they contrast so well. There is also a chinese saying: “你走你的阳关道，我走我的独木桥” which basically says you walk your broad path, I’ll walk my single plank bridge. It means to each their own. This is definitely part of what WWX is trying to do. He saved the Wens. He’s exiled himself from the Jiangs and the cultivation world. He says to Jiang Cheng that he just wants to be left alone to live out his life. And that sentiment is reflected in this statement about busy broad paths and single plank bridges. 

走到黑 - zou dao hei - character by character: walk, reach/until, black/dark. In this case, the color black indicates an ending. I’m thinking death or some sort of fall from grace. Usage-wise, it can just refer to the end of an alley (alleys existed even in the Tang Dynasty since cities were organized in grids). Sometimes, in a slightly longer phrasing, the wording can mean stubbornly choosing to do something without looking back. So how do we want to interpret this part of the line? Based on context of WWX, his stubbornness, and his 独木桥, I would say he is mindfully heading towards the end. For that reason, I prefer “into the dark” over “until dark”. (4)

That said, we can also be less literal with our translations! Let me offer this as an option of a fairly liberal translation that still captures the essence and the tone: “Who cares! To each their own!  I’ll walk my own path come hell or high water!”

And I’d like to leave you with the idea of LWJ saying to WWX: The feeling of “walking my own path come hell or high water” isn’t bad indeed.

Footnotes: 

成语s are idioms and are usually 4 characters long. They are super common in modern chinese. As a child, you either pick up their meanings from context or are taught the meaning. Oftentimes, the meaning derives from a story or a literary reference that are only tangentially related to the characters of the idiom. 

It’s actually a modern day tourist attraction! In my wanderings on Baidu, i saw a picture of modern day 阳关道. There was a picture of a stone memorial and the writing on the stone literally said former location of 阳关. I don’t know why i found this so funny... oh, well. 

Both  阳关 and  玉门关 are well known to Chinese children due to their presence in Tang Dynasty poetry.  For example: 送元二使安西 作者：唐 王维 (Sending Off Yuan Er Towards Xi’an by tang poet Wang Wei) 渭城朝雨浥轻尘，客舍青青柳色新。劝君更尽一杯酒，西出阳关无故人。(Morning rain in Weicheng dampens the light dust ， Making the inn verdant and freshening the willows’ color 。 I implore you to drink one more cup of wine ， Once west of Yang Guan you will have no more familiar people 。)

Full disclaimer: I might be partial to into the dark because of that Deathcab for Cutie song “I will follow you into the dark”. Also, uh… LWJ’s mood when he named LSZ (5), right?!  “Love of mine, someday you will die/But I'll be close behind and I'll follow you into the dark” FOLLOW YOU INTO THE DARK. I AM SCREAMING. What are wangxian feels?! Why are they EVERYWHERE. 

In case you don’t know, LSZ’s S and Z are 思 (si, to think/miss) and 追 (zhui, to follow/chase). LWJ explains it as 思君不可追, 念君何时归. People (i think both in chinese and english speaking fandom) explain it as “missing you but can’t go after/be near you, thinking about you and wondering when you’ll return.” I always interpreted this line very dramatically: LWJ wanted to follow WWX into death but could not because of this child. By bestowing the name on the child, he expresses his desire to chase after WWX. (also, WTF does my footnote have a footnote?!)

(I want to say I consider myself a native Chinese speaker but I grew up outside of China. I didn't go to school in China but I did manage to work my way through textbooks (aka my dad sat me down nearly every day for 10 years to teach me the language) so that I have at least a late middle school/early high school reading level. I have read the unabridged/simplified Journey to the West but none of the other famous 4 novels. From interacting with people, I believe I have good language sense. I also pick up wordings and phrases pretty easily. The language makes sense to me. However, I am not well read or well studied.) 

Welp, @ ho-heystranger let me know if you’re happy with this. If not, feel free to follow up in the notes or something. oof. this got way longer than i anticipated!

[s-tier]

As some of you guys may have noticed on Twitter this past week or so, there were a couple different hashtags trending for short bursts of time like SaveSmash, FreeMelee, among others. I'd like to take the time to help give those out of the loop some context because there has been lots of misinformation going around.

First, if I get any facts mistaken let me know and I’ll be happy to correct it.

On 19 November 2020, Smash Bros tournament series, The Big House announced on Twitter that they have received a cease and desist from Nintendo of America (NOA) “primarily due to the usage of Slippi” and will cancel both the Super Smash Bros Melee and Super Smash Bros Ultimate online events. The Big House series has been hosting Smash tournaments for almost 10 years, and the more recent installments were even partnered with Nintendo.

Earlier this year, 22 June 2020, Project Slippi releases a version of Dolphin (a Nintendo Gamecube emulator) that includes features new to Melee like rollback netcode, integrated matchmaking, replay files, complex game statistics, and more. Rollback netcode is easily the most important addition, giving players an online experience that’s significantly better than what most modern fighting games provide. It’s especially valuable in a time where the world is fighting an ongoing pandemic and gathering dozens of players to compete in-person poses a major health risk. I could gush over how incredible Fizzi36 and the rest of the Project Slippi developers are for being able to incorporate rollback netcode into Melee, but that’s not the point of this post. Just need to know that the game’s ISO file and its contents do not need to be modified in any way in order for Slippi to do what it does.

Now, despite their claims, NOA is lying. As the copyright holder, Nintendo indeed has the legal right to shut down events, streams, and media that include any of their intellectual property. Most game companies don’t assert this right because, unlike Nintendo, they know it’s not a very good idea. However, based on The Big House’s initial statement and NOA’s follow up statement to Polygon on the C&D, the tournament was shut down for other reasons: game emulation/modification and piracy. First let me say that I’m not a lawyer and would rather have someone better suited explain; but from my understanding, Slippi would not be considered illegal modification of Melee, the game, since everything is done with Dolphin, the emulator, instead. And while it is possible that numerous Melee players may be competing on illegally obtained copies of the game and don’t own their own physical copy, the responsibility falls on Nintendo to prove it.

Some suggest The Big House takes this to court, but with how big Nintendo is, many agree that the amount of time and money needed to settle the case would be too high of a price for anybody in the community to pay. So is fighting for The Big House’s online tournament a lost cause? For this event in particular, most likely yes. It’s been over a week since the C&D was issued and despite the public backlash, NOA has yet to retract its decision. However, the Melee community is already making moves in response, and for the average person, all we can do is spread awareness and see what happens next.

News of The Big House shutting down had spread far and wide, trending on Twitter for some time, reaching influencers like moistcr1tikal, LudwigAhgren, and Mutahar(SomeOrdinaryGamers), several news outlets like Kotaku have covered the story, and gained support from various other competitive gaming communities including ones that play the games that Nintendo actually supports like Splatoon and ARMS.

Few days later on 23 November 2020, an anonymous Twitter account posts a Twitlonger that contains a list of claims exposing how Nintendo has actively gone out of its way to prevent the growth of the competitive Smash scene for many years as far back as 2006. Nintendo’s actions have not only have been a detriment toward the Melee community, but all the newer Smash games and beloved fan-game Project M, as well. Many figures in the Smash community agree that most or even all the statements made in that document are legit, and I highly recommend reading it for yourself and forming your own opinion.

I won’t go over everything covered in the Twitlonger, but in the past Nintendo famously tried to shut down the Melee tournament back at EVO 2013. Melee earned its spot at the event after raising almost $100,000 for breast cancer research. After a day of constant public backlack after the story reached the top of Reddit, Nintendo stepped down from their decision, and after that came one of the most memorable and impactful Smash events in history.

The information brought public by that first Twitlonger caused others came forward with their own claims against Nintendo, exposing their actions against these communities happening behind the scenes. These statements come from members of the ARMS, Project M, and Splatoon communities. (If I come across more, I’ll try to add them here.)

These developments, soon after The Big House’s C&D, made a lot of people upset towards Nintendo. While there are several ways to go about informing others and expressing your frustration with the situation, demanding fans of Nintendo to boycott their products will not help. Doing so would probably just make less informed people not want to support the Smash scene at all.

All this noise has made many people question what the Melee scene was after. Would a rerelease on modern hardware be the solution? No, if anything, it can give Nintendo more leverage to continue this abusive relationship with the competitive community. The Melee rerelease would also likely be the PAL (European/Australian) version of the game, but the community as a whole has already abandoned it in favor of NTSC (Japanese/American). Do Melee players want Nintendo to put up their own money and sponsor competitive events? In the past, yes, but after many, many years of no shown support thus far that is no longer the case. With how malicious Nintendo has been towards the Smash community over the years, many just want the company to turn a blind eye and leave Melee alone at this point.

Mentioned earlier, the Melee community has already taken action in response to the C&D. The general plan as of now is to respectfully spread awareness and continue announcing online tournaments. In December, Ludwig is hosting a big online Melee tournament using Slippi where the winner decides which charity organization will receive the prize money of tens of thousands of dollars. Fizzi released an updated version of Slippi with a spectator mode that enables smaller, independent tournament organizers to run online competitions without needing to rely on streaming, Discord’s screen share feature, or other methods of broadcasting gameplay. Many content creators and players are also taking the time to express how much Melee means to them and how the competitive Smash scene has positively influenced their lives.

Somehow, despite everything exposed up until now, people still actively defend Nintendo as if they did nothing wrong at all and tend to base their arguments on flawed logic and/or incorrect information (you’ll see a lot of it on the Nintendo subreddit). For the remainder of this post, I’ll try to break down a few common misconceptions and explain why Nintendo should not be defended by anyone that isn’t getting paid by them.

Thank you for reading.

________________

“The competitive Melee scene hurts Nintendo’s bottom line.”

Super Smash Bros Melee has been out of production for many years now, and Nintendo has yet to release it on modern consoles.

The competitive Smash community has historically been supportive of Nintendo’s current products at the time.

Assumes the existence of competitive Melee takes opportunities away from other Nintendo games’ existing communities, when in reality it was Nintendo’s own poor community management.

Assumes that competitive scenes negatively affects Nintendo’s brand and is unwelcoming to casual players and newcomers when companies like Blizzard and Valve pump millions into their competitive scenes knowing how profitable they are.

“Nintendo doesn’t want to support events for a scene full of abusive community members.”

Claims like these are ESPECIALLY BAD because it disrespects those who have been victimized by members of their community.

Implies that exposing and ejecting abusive people from the community, and attempting to create a safer environment is bad for the scene.

Assumes people in other communities aren’t capable of doing the same horrible things.

Long before all the allegations came out, Nintendo had already invited several of these community figures to events in order to promote their games.

“Just play the new game lmao Melee players don’t know how to move on”

Has been said for ages, and clearly those saying so don’t get it.

This is literally what Nintendo wants.

“Melee players have always been after the money.”

THERE’S HARDLY ANY MONEY TO BE WON IN THE FIRST PLACE. NO THANKS TO NINTENDO.

If playing video games for money was all Melee players want, they would not be competing in a game this difficult to be good at where tournament winnings can’t reliably pay the bills.

The majority of competitive Melee players are only in it for the passion, and being able to make a living through competing in a game they love is the dream.

“Competitive players take the fun out of games! Why should I support them?”

Unless you can’t read, or are some corporate bootlicker with no sense of empathy, I see no reason not to be supportive.

This whole situation is about a dedicated community that has existed for almost 20 years trying to play their favorite game with each other online in the midst of a pandemic, and for no good reason a big company will not let them.

“Supporting Melee and/or boycotting Nintendo means I have to give up my favorite games!”

No, buy and play what you want, how you want.

Do know that Nintendo is a big company with no intent on being your friend. Stop putting them up on a pedestal.

Boycotting Nintendo won’t do anything anyway; they’re too big, and the FreeMelee movement isn’t far-reaching enough to cause any significant harm to Nintendo’s profits.

"ACTUALLY, Nintendo is within their right to shut down events. They are allowed to kill Melee if they want.”

Yes, and Nintendo is within their right to suck my nuts.

Just because it’s legal doesn’t necessarily make it the right thing to do.

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 51)

Description: Jailbreak!

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11

Chapter 51: The Midwife

Alodia

My first instinct is to be relieved at the sight of a face that in my experience has always been friendly. But caution overpowers relief pretty quickly, especially as the questions start flooding through my brain.

“...How...? What are you doing here?”

“The long and short of it is that I am here to help you. My ability is fairly limited, but I will do what I can.”

“I don't understand,” Diego says. “No one has seen or heard from the Anachronists in five years. We thought you guys vanished when the timelines merged.”

Clockmaker sighs. “As Anachronists, we made time and space into toys within the island's bubble. The crystals were our playthings. The Endless made many mistakes, but she at least learned from her errors. She worked with a singular purpose, reset the game board each time she lost. ...We were more careless. We counted on Vaanu and the Endless to be responsible so we did not have to be. We didn't really know what would happen to us when Vaanu departed. I think most of us assumed it would be the end of our world and we would move into the afterlife. But it didn't quite happen like that.”

“...What did happen?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“We were alone. We were alone in Quarr'tel, and Quarr'tel was hidden from the world. Or at least, our version of it was hidden. Vaanti from Elyys'tel came to seek us out, and they walked around the burned-out husk of our city, but they couldn't see us. They couldn't hear us. They seemed to pass through us. We were like ghosts, trapped together, unable to roam beyond our city.”

“But...why would...?”

Clockmaker shrugs. “I don't know. I could not tell you why that was our fate. What I can tell you is that your return brought us back to the world of the living—and that with your return, time crystals have begun to turn up on the island again.” She pauses for a moment, tipping her head at me. “You know...I am actually qualified to examine you. My methods are a little bit old-school by your standards since I trained in midwifery the 1960's, but they were still scientific enough to be trusted with a routine prenatal visit.”

“...This is hardly routine...” I mutter dazedly, but as she gestures invitingly at the exam table, I nod. Diego obligingly turns away as I take off my pants and underwear to climb onto the table. I lie back and Clockmaker covers my exposed lower body with a sheet.

“I won't insist that Diego leave the room. In the 60's, the culture was still very much that men had no place in the act of childbirth, but I think we've moved past such silly gender stereotypes, don't you?”

“I hope so,” I mutter, stretching out a hand to Diego. He comes to take it between his palms, his gaze never leaving Clockmaker. If she notices, she doesn't let on as she guides my legs apart.

“The crystals have begun to turn up again on the island. However, they are not plentiful. Nor are they as powerful as before. It seems the majority of my brothers and sisters went mad during our five years in limbo. When they began to get a picture of what had happened since Vaanu's departure and your return, they turned their hostility onto you. I tried to tell them that you were clearly not omnipotent, and you couldn't have known what would happen, but...well, you try reasoning someone who has lost all reason.”

She slips her fingers into me, and I suck in a sharp breath at the intrusion, squeezing Diego's hand. She squeezes my knee reassuringly with her free hand, but otherwise continues without comment.

“The crystals allowed them to track the energy of the Prism Crystal to Northbridge. They were hoping to find you directly, but instead they found the Prism Gate—and Everett Rourke, apparently. As well as Dax Darcisse's disguise technology. It was one of them who abducted you, Diego, wearing a hologram disguise.”  

“That...makes sense. ...So...is that how Rourke managed to fake his death? With some help from the Anachronists and the crystals?”

“Precisely. It's also how the Liquid Prism was stolen, and probably a number of other things I have not been able to be witness to since the other Anachronists banished me.”

“They banished you?!”

“Yes.” She removes her hand and slips off the used gloves. “I'm fortunate I managed to get my hands on one of the disguise earrings before they did. They intended to send me into the far future, but instead I ended up in 1958. I was already aware of your pregnancy at that point, and I thought it might make sense to study midwifery in case I managed to get back to you somehow.”

“...How did you manage to get back?”

Clockmaker shrugs, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my upper arm and grabbing a stethoscope off the wall. “The extended lifespan of a Vaanti, nothing more. I have lived the last sixty-six years in the United States of America, and I simply avoided returning to the island in order to avoid a paradox. When the other Anachronists joined with Rourke, I spied. Miraculously, I managed to stay out of their way enough that Rourke didn't realize who I was, and simply took me for another Anachronist ally. It was easy to convince him to let me meet up with Fiddler here to act as your midwife.”

“So, he does want my baby. ...What for?”

“That I do not know just yet. But yes, he does want her alive and well. Quiet for a moment please, I need to take your blood pressure.”

I obligingly clam up while she takes blood pressure and pulse, though my lips are practically itching with more questions. When she takes back the stethoscope and gives me a nod, I think it's the most important question that leaps to my tongue first.

“How do we get out of here?”

Clockmaker places a hand on my arm, meeting my gaze. “You have a little patience, and give me three days.”

“Why three days?”

“Because in three days, you will be close enough to Northbridge that I will feel more comfortable releasing you. Plus, at the next rest stop, I will be able to acquire the last piece of the device I need to remove that chip in your neck that's keeping you from contacting Varyyn.”

Diego gasps softly at the mention of his husband, his fingers tightening subtly around my hand. His reaction makes his next question a little jarring.

“Close to Northbridge? Where are we now?”

“Manitoba, Canada. Not far from Winnipeg.”

“Canada!” I repeat incredulously. “Could...is it possible to travel from Riverside to Winnipeg in...however much time we've been traveling?”

“Not by natural means, no. Your captors have been helped along by the crystals. Do you recall how my brothers and sisters and I were able to transport you through space and time with crystal fragments back on the island?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“They crystals they are collecting now are weaker, but they still have enough power to transport any vehicle containing you short spatial distances. ...And distances over time, but Rourke was strictly against subjecting you to that in your present condition as it may have led to your pregnancy advancing  the way Quinn's illness did when you leaped forward six months.” She guides me to lie back, lifting my shirt just enough to expose my belly. “Quiet again, please, while I listen for the heartbeat.”

She takes an instrument out of the drawer that looks like a small silver trumpet minus the pipes and valves, and places the bell end against my belly, lowering her head to press her ear to the flat end. After adjusting it a few times, she smiles.

“Ahh, there it is. Good and strong. But a little high-placed. I don't think baby has turned yet.”

“No, she hasn't. Or she hadn't last I knew. We tried EVC, but it didn't take. I've been preparing myself for a likely breech delivery—and possibly a C-section.”

Clockmaker frowns. “...The sooner we get you out of their hands, the better. Any complications in labor would likely go very badly for you if you're still a captive.”

“Why can't you just teleport us out of here with the crystals?” Diego asks.

“If I had access to the crystals myself, I would not have gotten stuck in the 1950's,” she replies ruefully. “I would be performing an ultrasound on you instead of using a pinard, and I would likely be qualified to perform a C-section myself.”

“You never decided to update your skills?”

“Records became much more difficult to forge as technology advanced. I read what books I could, but it seemed safer not to attempt formal study again. In any case, if you go into labor within the next three days, I will take what risks are necessary to get you out of here. But the safest option is going to be to wait, since the safest option will also require me to stay behind and throw them off the scent while they attempt to hunt you down.”

I nod slowly. I won't say I feel like I completely understand what is happening here, but I still feel like I can trust Clockmaker. Diego seems a little bit more skeptical.

“But why help us like this? Why not tip off the authorities that you know where we are?”

“For one thing, I believe the authorities would have a harder time getting you out than I will. For another...I still care about what might happen to the Vaanti if the authorities turn their suspicions toward the island.” She hesitates a moment. “...When we reach the next stopping point, I intend to drug their food to knock them out long enough that you can escape. ...I could poison them. Kill them. But if their bodies are revealed in an investigation, that will come back to you.

“Which is why, Diego, when eventually questioned on how you escaped, you are going to tell them that in this very room, you discovered a bottle of rohypnol abandoned in one of these cabinets, and smuggled the pills in your sock.”

“I see. And...what will...'I' do with these pills?”

“Well, at the next safehouse, you will drug their water supply, of course. You've had your eye out for an opportunity since you discovered the pills.”

“...No one will stop 'me'?”

“Once the deed is done, I will show you how 'you' did it, and I'll make sure to set it up to look plausible. Of course, it may be rearranged when your captors take off, but I don't believe that would strike anyone as very odd, either.”

“And what should I tell them about who kidnapped us?”

“You know Fiddler. You know she was a rival of Jake's. Tell them you don't know the others. It will be true. Tell them you don't know why you were abducted. That will be a lie, but it will be a lie that protects the Vaanti.”

“It will also be a lie that protects Rourke,” I point out.

“It will also protect you,” Clockmaker counters. “And your baby. ...I will not let Rourke escape justice, Alodia. I promise you that. But sometimes winning the war means losing the battle, and right now, it is more important that you and Diego are safely returned to your families before the baby arrives, and that the Vaanti's secrets are kept as long as possible.”

“As long as possible. ...You make it sound as if you don't think they can be kept indefinitely.”

“I don't,” she admits. “But if I can help it, I won't have them turned into laboratory experiments like Rourke tried to do. ...I believe there is a way that the truth can be safely revealed. But it must be done carefully and there are many unknowns to be considered.”

“What unknowns?”

She sighs a little, shaking her head, but there is a slight smile on her lips. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Alodia, than I could have ever perceived from my vantage point within Vaanu's time bubble. ...You can probably start getting dressed now. They're going to start wondering what we're doing in here.”

I sit up slowly. My head is spinning a little, probably with all this new information. But there is one more thing I feel I should know.

“...Where are they actually taking us? Where is Rourke waiting?”

“The exact location appears to be on a need-to-know basis. But I have reason to suspect he is making his base somewhere in the Greek isles.”

“Well, I won't ask why there. I'm sure finding the answer to that can wait.”

“Absolutely. The important thing now is getting you someplace where you can have your baby safely.”

I nod. “...Thank you, Clockmaker. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

She smiles sadly. “I suppose I ought to tell you not to call me that anymore. The Anachronists have appointed a new Clockmaker.”

“Do you want a new name?” I ask.

She shrugs. “It was never really a name, was it. It was a title of sorts, though Anachronists are not really supposed to have titles. ...I suppose I would like for you to call me the Midwife now. It seems appropriate.”

“Midwife, then. Thank you, Midwife.”

Kenji

It's been quiet for the last few days while Tahira has been off tracking Alodia. Just the occasional petty crooks hopped up on weak street-cut doses of Liquid Prism that have actually become weirdly routine. Just as well, considering we're down our leader, but I can't help feeling kinda twitchy. So when my phone chimes while I'm working out in my home gym and the screen shows an unfamiliar number, I am immediately on edge. But I pick up because I'm not about to ignore it, either.

“This is Kenji.”

“Katsaros. What's the word in Northbridge?”

I could be mistaken, but I think I can hear a slight tremor in Caleb's voice. I feel my forehead crease.

“Uh, not much happening here at the moment. Why? Where are you?”

“You swear the Prism Crystal's secure? Maybe you should check on it.”  

“Yes, Caleb. It's secure. You're gonna have to trust me on that.”

“When was the last time you checked? When was the last time you saw it with your own eyes?”

“Man, seriously. I'd say you sound like you're trying to get its location out of me for some nefarious purpose, but I don't actually think you're dumb enough to be so transparent. It's secure. I promise. Getting at it right now would be way more complicated than either of your former bosses could pull off. ...Where are you?”

“I'm at Gigi's squat.”

“What?! What are you doing there?!”

He hesitates. “...Not really important. Had a dumb idea that isn't gonna pan out anyway, because the place is completely deserted.”

“Is that unusual? It was deserted when we found you there.”

“Yeah, that was the gang away on a day mission. This is...different. I been here two days with no trace of anyone, and most everything's gone.”

“Did they maybe move on from that squat? Set up a new base?”

“Maybe. 'Cept they didn't take entirely everything. There's still mattresses and linens, a generator, a minifridge, space heaters...”

“Well, those are heavy. Probably thought it more worthwhile to acquire new ones.”

“I'd buy that...except that they also left a supply of food and bottled water. Water and canned goods may be heavy, but you can pack 'em in backpacks and carry 'em easy enough. And packs of ramen noodles weigh next to nothing.”

“So what do you think is going on?”

“No idea. I just know it's probably not good.”

I consider this for a moment. “Maybe you should come back to Northbridge.”

“Yeah...I don't know. Got some things to take care of.”

“Well, I'm not gonna twist your arm.”

“How is Tahira?”

“Oh, right. You probably haven't heard yet. She's okay. She woke up, and she's out of the hospital.”

“Well. Good to know.”

Before I can reply, the call cuts off. I wait a minute or two to see if he's going to call back. I even take a chance on calling back the number he called from, but no luck.

...Guess that might be the reformed criminal for you. I wonder if I'm ever actually going to know what to make of him.

Alodia

Midwife stays with us over the next few days while we're held in what I have concluded is probably an abandoned hospital. She's there when we're bound and blindfolded again and loaded into another vehicle. This time, though, they cut our bonds once we're in the van, and we're permitted to take our blindfolds off. I realize why once we do.

We're inside what can only be the trailer of a semi. No windows to the outside. Separated from the drivers in the cab. Only a few hanging work lights to illuminate our steel and aluminum prison. But it has been fitted with car seats, and the car seats have seatbelts. We fasten ourselves in and settle in for the journey, however long it will take.

“You should both try to rest as much as you can,” Midwife tells us. “Now, and when we arrive. You'll both need your energy very soon.”

Jake

It's early morning, and my turn holding the Prism Crystal while Sean drives. I really ought to stay awake. Be a decent navigator. But my head still isn't fully healed, and Michelle encourages me to sleep when I need to as long as I keep a hand on the Crystal. So when I feel myself start to drift off, I grab a handkerchief out of the glove compartment and wrap it around my hand and the Crystal. The top of the gleaming Crystal is still visible, and it feels secure enough that I don't think it will fall. I prop my head on a travel pillow against the passenger-side window, and let myself drift off.

I come around again slowly. The sunlight makes my eyes water as voices buzz around me. There are no words just yet, but the atmosphere is tense. I claw my way back to full consciousness just as the tension starts to ebb away.

“Wha...? Wha's goin' on...” I manage to form the question, but the words feel like mush coming out of my mouth at first.

“It's okay,” Sean assures me. “We lost the trail for a minute, but we've got it back.”

I frown, turning to study his profile, even as the glare from the sun obscures my vision at first. He still looks concerned. I look down at the Crystal tied to my hand. It's glowing bright as it was when I fell asleep. A glance in the rearview mirror reveals the others still following us in the other car. But I look at the clock on the dashboard, and I look at the sun, and I immediately understand what's different.

We're not heading northwest anymore. We've turned entirely around.

Alodia

Our new prison is another farmhouse. Or cabin. Or cottage. Whatever. We're blindfolded again once we arrive, and I only see the inside of the room we're locked in, but it definitely has wood floors and wood-paneled walls. As usual, we're supplied with food when we arrive. Nothing gourmet, of course, but nutritious. I eat valiantly for my baby's sake, and Diego eats for mine, but I can tell he's struggling to find an appetite. I reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“You okay?”

“I'm just...anxious. Do you think we can trust Midwife?”

I sigh, turning my attention back to my meal. “I think we probably don't have much of a choice. I think if it turns out she can't be trusted, we won't be much worse for it.”

“I don't know. It's not like there need to be only two sides in this conflict, us and Rourke. If the Anachronists have gone as crazy as she implies, they might just be out to hurt you themselves...”

“I won't say the possibility didn't occur to me. But given the choice between taking a risk trusting her and risking my baby falling into Rourke's hands...I'll take the choice that presents a possibility of freedom.”

“It does seem like a better choice than waiting to be delivered to Rourke,” he concedes.

“We should rest if we can. If Midwife can be trusted, we're apparently going to need it.”

* * *

I'm not sure how deeply I actually manage to sleep. At nine months pregnant, I haven't really slept soundly in weeks. But it does feel as if some time has passed when I open my eyes to see Midwife leaning over me and realize that she was gently shaking me awake.

“Your enemies are sound asleep,” she says softly. “Drugged. It's time to get you both out of here.” I sit up carefully. Midwife puts a hand on my shoulder, preventing me from standing. “Stay seated for a moment. First things first, we need to get that chip out of your neck to reopen a line of communication with Varyyn. Diego, help me out here, okay?”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Sit down there and hold her steady. This will be quick, but it will be painful for as long as it lasts. Alodia, try not to make too much noise. I don't expect anyone to wake up in any state to chase you, but I would rather not take chances.”

Diego sits beside me on the cot and draws me into his arms. I grip him back, pressing my face into his shoulder, bracing myself. I feel Midwife gather up my hair and twist it up off my neck.

“The effects of this chip are likely to last beyond its removal, but they will wear off in time. Unfortunately, I cannot say precisely how much time it will take.” As she speaks, I feel pain go through me like a full-body electric shock. I gasp sharply, digging my fingertips into Diego's back, but I manage not to cry out. “But I do promise you that it will wear off. ...All done.”

I sit up shakily, my stomach quivering. Diego squeezes my hand, rubbing my back. “All good now?”

I manage to nod. “Yeah. All good. Just a little woozy.”

“I advise Diego to take the first shift driving. There's a jeep outside for you. Full tank, spare tire, and three cans of gas. Northbridge is about two-hundred miles away. I have programmed the fastest route into the GPS for you. The whole trip should take around three hours.”

“...Couldn't we just go to the nearest town and call the police?” Diego asks.

“Once you have driven off, I can't stop you from doing whatever you see fit. But I highly recommend putting as much distance between yourselves and your captors as possible before putting yourselves in the authorities' hands. Particularly because I cannot assure you that there are no Anachronist spies in holographic disguises along the road to Northbridge.”

“I know I would rather get back to the other Catalysts before we try to send anyone out after Arachnid,” I murmur. “I have more faith in them and the Supers to protect us than the authorities. Especially with the threat of Anachronist spies.”

“Just think the police might wonder why we drove two-hundred miles instead of getting them involved sooner.”

“Like Midwife said. We wanted to put as much distance between us and them as possible. Besides, I'm pregnant and scared and I probably pushed you to get us to Northbridge once I saw how close we were. If nothing else, we can blame it on my hormones.”

“That feels sexist.”

“I am willing to exploit sexism when it suits,” I reply, smirking a little. “But...there is another problem I can see with driving almost non-stop to Northbridge: I am nine months pregnant, and I have to pee constantly. I've been able to hold it when they move us, but I'm usually in agony by the time we arrive. And the thought of going three hours without a rest stop...”

“I have a solution for that, too,” Midwife says almost proudly. “Frankly, I am annoyed they never provided you with a portable female urinal before. But you will find one under the seat in the jeep. It's actually designed with pregnant women in mind. Specifically, pregnant women who have to spend a great deal of time in cars. Now, Diego. Pay attention.”

“Hmm? What?” Diego snaps to attention, his eyes widening slightly.

“I'm going to tell you how 'you' managed to drug your kidnappers.” She taps at the handle of a locked closet that we made a cursory attempt to open when we were first left alone in the room. “When you arrived here, they took a water cooler jug out of here and left it with you. Before they locked the closet, you saw that there were other jugs inside. When they left you alone, you tried the closet door and found that the locking mechanism was clearly broken, because in spite of the knob not turning, the door opened. You took a chance, and emptied the six pills from the bottle you found at the doctor's office into an almost-full jug that had already been opened. By the way, you'll find said bottle in the glove compartment of the jeep. Make sure to get your fingerprints on it before you let the authorities have it as evidence.”

“...Should we tell them that there was a gynecologist at the abandoned doctor's office?”

“Of course. Don't worry. There's no reason to believe you will harm me by doing so. As long as you keep my description vague.”

“So...once they were drugged, how did we get out?”

“Through a window in the back of the closet. This room is actually underground, and there is a window at the top of the wall at ground level. In fact, Diego, come with me. I'm going to direct you through your escape path. Alodia, there's no way you could climb through that window in your condition, but Diego, you should follow the plausible path and leave your traces where you can.”

I notice that Midwife uses a key to unlock the closet, but I assume she is going to do something to break the lock mechanism after we leave. She takes him into the closet, and I hear them talking for a minute or two before she comes out alone.

“...Where's Diego?”

“Walking around with the key to unlock the door. I can't leave my traces all over the grounds. Not when you're supposed to be escaping without my help.”

I want to protest. I can't keep back a nagging fear that something is going to go wrong here, that maybe one of the guards wasn't as drugged as Midwife perceived. But I hold my tongue. Midwife has always given me the impression she knows more than she lets on in any given situation. Trusting her pays off. Within five minutes, I hear the key turn in the lock, and the door opens. Diego beams at me from across the threshold.

“Time for a jailbreak, Allie. The coast is clear.”

Diego

I'm honestly a little surprised at how anxious I feel leaving Midwife behind as Allie and I drive off in our stolen jeep. But then again, maybe it's not leaving her behind that's making me anxious. I mean, after all, my best friend and I are running for our lives right now, leaving behind a bunch of hostile ex-military goons with sinister designs on an unborn baby girl. They're drugged, giving us a good amount of time to make a head start, but I know I'm not going to feel safe until we're among friends in Northbridge. Even as I speed through the night, going as much over the speed limit as I dare on the silent country roads, I can feel them lurking over my shoulder like ghosts.

“This thing have a radio?” Allie mutters after a few minutes.

I take a quick glance at the dash. “Satellite. You think we should...?”

She shrugs. “Don't see how it could hurt. And it might calm us down. ...And River, if we can find the right station.” She rubs her belly pointedly. “I think she's picking up on how nervous I am.”

“It does feel like we're driving with a target on our backs,” I concede as she starts flipping through the stations.

“I keep looking in the back seat, like one of them might have snuck in and is lying in wait back there.”

“We checked it thoroughly before we left, remember? We even looked underneath.”

“Of course I remember.” She settles on a station playing electronic music and leans back in her seat. “Doesn't stop it from feeling like they could be right behind us.”

“Yeah, you're right.” I chuckle a little. “Know what this feeling reminds me of? Being in high school, watching gay porn on the computer with the door locked and my headphones on and my parents out of the house and still being terrified that I'd get caught. I used incognito mode, did virus scans afterward, checked about fifty times that my headphones were on, and I would still be terrified of my parents coming home early, or something showing up on the search history days later and I would get caught...”

“You were more careful than I was. I did get caught once.”

“Yeah, but all your aunt and uncle were ever going to do was give you a lecture about privacy. Embarrassing, sure, but not life-altering.”

“True. ...I think if we're going to compare this situation to pre-adult anxieties, mine would be being inside or anywhere near the garage when Aunt Molly or Uncle Rob was out. When I was four or five, I had a nightmare about being trapped in the garage with a sentient killer car, and I have hated the sound of the garage opening ever since.”

I take my eyes off the road just long enough to glance at her in surprise. “You have?”

“Yup. I don't mind it so much from my room. Or any room where I can't see the door from the garage into the house. But if I'm in that hallway when I hear the garage door open, I bolt.”

“Huh...” I think back, trying to recall if I had ever noticed her doing that when we were kids, but I guess it's never stood out to me. She was a high-energy kid, and good at masking her distress when she wanted to. I probably put it down to her getting a new fun idea and running off to make it happen. “Funny how you can know a person all of your life and theirs, and still not know everything about them.”

“I should hope I still have a little mystery to me,” she replies, chuckling. “Even from you.”

The truth is that I am glad she does. In another timeline, she was a figment of my imagination. Everything she was, I made her. All her secrets were mine. The woman sitting next to me is real enough to surprise me with a strange, irrational fear left over from childhood. I don't express any of that, not wanting to remind her of a timeline I know she doesn't like to think about. But I do spare a glance to smile at her. Though not enough to make me forget what we're running from, that happy thought is enough to ease me a little, and as we continue on our journey, I hum along with the music on the radio.

Jake

We're not robots. We can't travel indefinitely. We have to stop occasionally to piss and shit and get food and fill our cars with gas. I take care of my essential bodily functions and lean against the car's rear door while I gulp down a protein bar that tastes vaguely like vanilla-flavored newspaper. Tahira leans beside me, working her way through a take-out chicken sandwich. She stares straight ahead while she eats, taking each bite with an expression that suggests she's getting it down through sheer willpower. The Prism Crystal winks at the top of her pocket. She's facing vaguely southwest, and the Crystal is gleaming in response.

“...Why did it change?”

I ask the question before I realize I did it. Tahira looks sidelong at me, and her expression is hard to read.

“What do you mean?”

“Don't be coy. I mean the Crystal. It turned us around. Why?”

“...We passed her. Somewhere on our journey, we passed by her and we had to turn around.”

“If that's the case, shouldn't we have intersected her by now? Or at least turned right or left, or...?”

“I don't know, Jake. This is hardly an exact science. We're flying almost blind.”

“...Are we sure it's even her we're tracking with the Crystal?”

“Who or what else could it be?”

“...I don't know. It ain't an exact science.”

“But there is an objective reality to it,” she murmurs, sounding thoughtful. After a moment's hesitation, she adds, “It's her, Jake. I can't totally explain how I'm sure it's her, but I know it's her.”

“Well, I guess you'd know.”

But I'm not comforted. Following the Prism Crystal might make me feel less like I'm spinning my wheels, but the pit in my stomach's not gonna go away until she's safe in my arms again. In my world, nothing's right without her. I lived that reality for five years. I can't face it again.

[the-creeping-shadow]

Eli and the G-Man

Since my love for the Half-Life series is reignited right now, I am now going to do what I like doing in any fandom I am in, and that’s writing analyses and hypotheses picking random aspects of the franchise apart, specifically my favourite characters! Oh no!

Since my favourite character just so happens to be the G-Man, possibly one of the most mysterious and obscure characters in video games, anything that I come up with or mention is really nothing more than my personal perception and wild speculation. In fact, I am even hesitant to call anything a set headcanon because this mystery is, for me, one of the things I love about the character and anything that strives to paint a clear picture just does not feel right to me. But, just as most of the fandom, I still have my own ideas and a desire to share them. Here goes nothing! Major spoilers for HL:A ahoy!

One of the things I started wondering about, and something that I don’t see get that much notice, is the possible reason/motivation as to why the G-Man decided to convey the same ominous and extremely vague warning “Prepare for unforeseen consequences” to Eli twice, or rather in general, why he made his presence/involvement known to him when all it seems to do is unnerve and downright enrage Eli, coupled with him “using” and “abducting” his daughter at the end of Half-Life: Alyx, and Eli knowing of the G-Man’s involvement in providing the crystal sample that set off the Resonance Cascade (RC). Evidently, Eli distrusts the G-Man and goes so far as to vow to kill him for what he did to Alyx (and other things likely).

On the surface you might think that pitting an undoubtedly influential person (”entity”) against yourself and making things a little... personal appears disadvantageous as this “entity” is likely going to try to go after you. (Though perhaps the G-Man does not consider this a genuine threat at all, being as powerful as he is...) However, from what comparatively little we see of the G-Man, his modus operandi seems to be moving particular pieces in the setting where their actions - entirely based on what they consider right in whatever situation he puts them in, mind you - are going to benefit his own obscure plans. He seems to appear only to those he deems crucial to his own goals, given that some characters who technically could have seen him never mention him and his overall sporadic appearances, sometimes even outside of the confines of the 3D world. The only ones who are aware of his presence otherwise possess some form of psychic powers themselves (Vortigaunts, Nihilanth, likely Combine).

Now, despite him being some kind of Eldritch alien deity (as I perceive the G-Man anyway) and likely following much different moral standards and such, I highly doubt that he is oblivious to the effects his actions have on people on an emotional level. Especially with HL:A in mind, it’s easy to assume that he, overall, might have a good idea of where his own decisions lead. It can be assumed that he is fully aware of how his actions affect Eli, his perception of the G-Man, and ultimately the course of actions he might take based on it. With the point about his sporadic appearances above considered, the image I am getting is that his “warning” to Eli was entirely deliberate, thought-through, and like everything else he does, serves to “nudge” events in a particular direction, like the G-Man put it, just subtle enough to tick Eli off. 

For all intents and purposes, the G-Man could have technically remained unknown to Eli by simply not saying a word - be it directly or indirectly - and his sole involvement could have been to bring a child Alyx to him during the Black Mesa incident without appearing in front of him. But this is not what he did in the end. Eli is now aware of the G-Man, knows about his influence in the RC, knows that he is the one who rescued Alyx and later took her “for his own damn reasons”, and has good reasons to assume that whenever the words about “unforeseen consequences” fall, something terrible is going to happen soon. The G-Man, being his obscure self, never quite divulges what that is of course, leaving people confused (Alyx) or angered/distrustful (Eli; perhaps the Vortigaunts as well?).

Subsequently, my hypothesis regarding why the G-Man now has Eli involved like this, aside from the more obvious “Eli is a key figure in the story’s conflict”, is that he actually WANTS him to shift his focus to the G-Man himself and attempt to take hostile action against him, possibly serving as a distraction from whatever his original aim was (my guess goes towards destroying the Borealis as this was what he wished before he died in the “first” version of the events).

A lot of people, at least judging from numerous Youtube comments on the HL:A ending, seem to speculate that the G-Man is now going to be the major antagonist in the next game with Eli and Gordon trying to free Alyx and even killing the G-Man. To be clear, I myself am vehemently opposed to the idea of the G-Man ever being becoming a clear-cut villain since it defies his original concept of being a neutral party, neither an ally nor an enemy, and could easily ruin the Eldritch mystery tones. I firmly hold on to the idea of him staying this “intangible” being that he appears to be (to me). At most one can either stall him, cross his plans, or “contain” him, but actually fighting him? Absolutely not. (You’d think the Combine, after trapping him in the Vault, could have attempted to do such, but it’s clear they “merely” beamed the apartment building up and encapsulated the room he was in in that icosahedron cell; which creates the impression that he would be extremely difficult to approach as a physical entity. And all that trouble with the Vault just to contain him!). Though, honestly, I still do trust Valve enough to come up with something great and reasonably-unpredictable, just like they always did with the games up-to-date. Only time can tell...

Anyway, still, I don’t think it would be far-fetched to assume that whatever Eli has planned might aim towards crossing the G-Man one way or another - something I now speculate is exactly what the G-Man WANTS him to do, as concluded in this post. Whether such an action will be beneficial to Eli’s goals on the long run or not is impossible to tell, just as the ultimate outcome of the G-Man’s plans is (I suppose this will depend on who you are asking obviously). Chances are, perhaps Alyx will be put back on the physical plane and actually meet Gordon during the course of the events before they can even properly attempt to free her, and Alyx might develop some different/new insights into the whole situation - whatever it may be - during the course of her own adventures. I think it would be cool to hear HER views on the G-Man, now that we have a hero who actually talks and directly interacted with the “sinister interdimensional bureaucrat”. Or maybe I am not too fond of the idea of Alyx being “reduced” to a damsel in distress as far as the plot is concerned... However, this is already straying into wild, (unfounded) speculation and something to be discussed more closely for another day.

To summarize, I speculate that the situation and relationship between the G-Man and Eli, and perhaps by extension Alyx and Gordon, is quite intricate and goes way beyond (or rather a different direction altogether) the G-Man becoming downright antagonistic. Eli might be hostile in his views of the G-Man - for understandable reasons - but any actions based on said hostility are being deliberately evoked in him to get him to take a certain path that is beneficial to the G-Man and his employers’ goals on the long run. Whether or not it is “good” or “bad” for our heroes still cannot be said, and I am personally hoping that the G-Man will very much stay his own “faction” that is neither allied nor hostile. As Mike Shapiro himself said in an interview, the G-Man has the “long game” in mind.  

[ardeawritten]

HL1 versus HL2 and why they aren’t remotely the same game. I can’t imagine I’m saying anything new, I’m twenty years late to this conversation.

I love HL1′s single-take nonstop energy. It flows very well and it’s a great horror game. The setting is so utterly “cheap 90′s/80′s beige” with tiled floors and giant monitors; the building is its own opponent, but it’s not the haunted house vibe that Black Mesa remake wanders into at times. The setting is so clearly not supposed to be inhabited by people-eating aliens. Black Mesa didn’t always translate this subtlety, and as I’m playing it now I’m finding it tends to put extra enemies and set dressing in places where it becomes a distraction, not an enhancement, to the “your opponent is architecture not intended for human navigation and/or the HVAC system plus this one (1) headcrab” of HL1. (Not counting physics-defying ladders and friction-less floors.)

HL2, in contrast, is a post-apocalyptic action shooter, not a horror game. You might make an exception for Ravenholm, but its setting is decayed. If you put that bit in an undamaged suburb in daylight it’d play as horror. As it is, it plays as “enemies assumed around every corner.” Instead of HL1′s repeated jump-scares and headcrab drops from unassuming from ceiling tiles, the challenge becomes choosing which object to creatively mash them with. Do I burn the room full of zombies with the explosive gas tank or bludgeon them to death with the radiator today?

HL1′s timeline moves, signaled by changing day/night conditions outdoors, but it’s an exhausting nonstop crawl from one end to the other. HL2′s timeline is broken up into discrete chapters with unique features. The train yard maze on foot, the river trip in the boat, Ravenholm’s night battle, then the go-cart coast ride, etc. It even gives an in-world timeskip with the slow teleport, and to be honest having Alyx captured on a rooftop out of sight is... ham-handed plotting at best (sorry Valve, not your finest moment!) The ending is a bit compressed, with D0G used as a blunt object to shove the plot forward. “Here Gordon, I think he wants you go do down that hole in the middle of the street!” (Valve, seriously) In contrast to HL1′s ‘figure it out and never stop moving.’

HL2 showcased some really amazing graphics and world interaction for its day. I remember my brother being incredibly impressed by the water reflections, by being able to affect the setting in real ways (destroying boxes and having them stay destroyed! Shooting a piece of rebar into a wall, and it’s still there when you come back later!) After games that just regenerate a stock setting and limit interaction to plot-relevant objects like weapons and doors, being able to just knock over a table, any table, for any reason, was revolutionary. It’s still a fun setting to go crashing through (and don’t get me wrong I love HL2 and its chapters, and it is way more re-playable for fun then HL1) but it’s not the same kind of game as HL1, setting or plot or game-play wise, and I’m not sure anyone has ever recaptured the bottled lightning that HL1 was in terms of gaming experience. One could make a case that if Dishonored wasn’t broken into discrete chapters with mandatory naps between them (lol) it might have come close.

If you have a recommendation for a PC game that drags its player through its world the way HL1 does, never letting up until it just stops mid-sentence, let me know.

[annakie]

An Annotated Mass Effect Playthrough, Part Twelve

List of Posts: 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Last Time: we helped a criminal and chased some monkeys.

This Time: we Main Quest again!

Feros!

I love Feros!  It’s such a cool place with crazy, brutalist atmosphere.  From a scappy little colony filled with brainwashed people to a scary tower filled with Geth and then down to creepy eldritch horror monster basement... it definitely feels like something new and different.

So let’s start out with that colony.

Tali comes with us to Feros, because of the large amounts of geth on the planet.  It seems like the best of the four main planets to have her along with, until the end.

This poor guy.  It’d be great if there was some way to save him.  Why was he out here on his own!?  Someone should be here to help him!  and he shouldn’t be standing out where there’s no cover!  Hide, man!  Hide!

I’m kind of sad we never see muscle-white geth in subsequent games.  What are you hiding from us, Harbinger? What did you do with the white-and-blue wall-clinging geth?  Do their loyalties lie only with Sovereign?  

Also, great job making them seem really freaky here.

One thing I love early on is that the game does a pretty good job not immediately giving up the brainwashing plot, while still making you not feel like a dummy for not figuring it out earlier, yet there are still hints its there.

Alicia here at first seems like she could be a problem. turns out she’s just like, really good at her job and mad about being abandoned here.  And the colony is really struggling and on its last lets and they ARE glad you’re there.

And before you can get into too much discussion, geth attack!

It’s a crazy intense fight up the stairs and into the tunnel, until...

Whew, a reprieve.  Also, what a cool and terrifying shot. They’re really amping up the tension and complete shittyness of the situation here.

Things are seriously fucked at this colony.  

YES I’ll help you!

And you!

Hang on real quick and let me grab this sidequest.

Talking to Hollis Blake is like, the first really big hint that something is very, very wrong here.  Always wondered if he’s any relation to Helena.

Hey, is it just me who always, always, always misses one of these water valve fuckers and has to backtrack to find it?  This time I was specifically like “I am not going to miss any of the water valves.  I will NOT.”  And then I did.  Does one just.. not show up til you get to the end of the Feros tunnels or am I just that stupid?!?!

Anyway, another reason to bring Tali, she’s pretty much an expert at fixing stuff like this!  Kaidan does fine if needed, but the tunnels quests in particular I feel like are right up Tali’s alley.

PUPPIES.  That are apparently full of tasty meat for hungry colonists.  

This screenshot reminds me that I haven’t driven my car for a week and a half due to quarantine and should do so before the battery dies.  Sounds like a job for tomorrow!

Also, I want to know like, how did those vehicles get down here?  Is this really underground?  What level is the colony on?  How do the prothean towers the colonists live in even WORK?  How many other levels have people living on them (or did?)  Does everyone live in this tower and skybridge over to the other tower for office work?  I have QUESTIONS about pre-geth life in this colony that will never be answered.

Poor Ian Newstead.  The strongest of the colonists, but not quite strong enough.

Somehow, I managed to not take video or good screenshots of this terrifying fight.  Oh ok we got drones up top, and several charging Krogan and geth in a tunnel with zero cover?  Sounds SUPER FUN.  Also feels impossible on insanity.  It’s not easy to lure things out to the cross-hallway here.  I die on this fight a lot, even on normal.  

But not this time!!

Hey raise your hand if in the past you’ve forgotten to blow this thing to bits and had to trudge back down here a second time?  

I managed to only get halfway down the hall before remembering and turning around this time.

Oh yeah, yeah Fai Dan, everyone here is SUPER NORMAL.  Poor Ian, indeed.

But hey, turning in all the tunnels quests is great, feels like you’re making a noticeable difference in these people’s lives and survivability, at least.

Anyway, now that the colony is stable, time to head over to that other building!  Just a short, pleasant, easy drive across a skybridge.

HOW. DID. THE.MAKO. GET. HERE?  

Is it just like, Exo Geni’s Mako?  It can’t be ours!  But how would they get a mako!?

Sigh.  Let’s not think about it too hard, and enjoy this boring drive across...

DAMNIT.

But hey, those visuals!

Once again, we deal with these geth in our usual way.  And I didn’t even drive off the skybridge!  So Pro.

Tunnel!  OK we have time to stop for a tunnel.

Peekaboo!  Time to pick up some sweet easy loot!

Hey, thanks ExoGeni for placing large chunks of debris in the middle of the road.  I know it was you because it clearly didn’t fall from anything around here.

Oh no, this asshole.

It feels extra prescient right now that hypercapatalist Ethan Jeong is super willing to sacrifice real people’s lives in order to protect profits, right?  Fuck you even more than normal, Jeong.  Seriously.  I’m now sorta regretting cheating in extra paragon points so you can live later.

I do love Juliana Baynham, though?  Of course I always love a good mother/daughter story.

Hey, don’t forget to talk to Gavin... if you want Conrad Verner to live!

But seriously you guys, this level design.

Sorry not sorry for the flycam pic spam.  I just really love the skybridge of Feros.  

I also really want to know like, what’s down there under the clouds?

Also, great job to the Protheans to have built shit still standing after their reaper invasion +20,000 years!  I’ll have to tell Javik in a couple of years.

Okay, that’s it for this update!  Next time... we’ll make it to the tower, and probably just have an extra-long finishing up Feros post!  Can you believe this post only has twelve of the fifty two Feros gifs I made?  So THAT’S coming up!

[dunewizard]

Autistic Acceptance Month Challenge - Day 3

All the Questions are Here!  April 3: Talk about special interests. Do you have any? What are they? How long have you had them? What does it feel like to have special interests? What does having special interests mean to you? Talk about your past special interests

Editing Note: “HA - of course the Special Interest Question took the longest to write and had  just a WALL of text. Apologies to anyone who wants to read it but I appreciate everyone who does” _____ under the readmore _____

I have a few special interests going at the moment! At the moment after about 9-10 years I’m still in my Team Fortress 2 phase. I’m also really into Dungeons and Dragons! Aesthetically and Stylewise I’m really into Wizards and Westerns like cowboys n stuff. (though I may go into what exactly because people assume a lot from me and its just not my cup of tea)

To me, a special interest is an interest or an idea that I really love, and will defend with all my heart to keep doing. Its something that gives me purpose, but also gives me peace. It keeps me grounded in a topic that I can fall back onto - which is why it helps to seek out friends who at least share a little bit about your special interest, so that they can see where youre coming from when you wanna talk about it! I know its not mandatory, but I remember loving just HOW much I knew about the Fable series! Back in the day that was a big one for me, so I remember if my mum or sister ever needed me to sit still for some reason, they’d ask me about Fable stuff. Sure it feels dumb nowadays to think about but I guess at the time I was excited and thought they wanted to know!

I’ve heard from others that its a hyperfocus on a topic, and knowing every little in and out of it. I remember being so mad about this when I heard from a neurotypical friend that he had an “Autistic level” of interest in Fighting Games. I asked him if he was autistic and he said no, and I knew it was no too. So how could he know what an “Autistic Level” of focus looked like? Just because he worked with them as a teacher? No way.  For example, I am learning new things about Team Fortress 2 all the time! I don’t retain them that well, because a lot of it is console commands but I always am down to hear about things going on in the community, and if I’m online and someone wants a game - I’m pretty much ready to drop everything I’m doing and joining them! I don’t know everything about the story, or the characters (even though theres not much) - I don’t have an encyclopedic knowledge of it and I most likely never will. My love for TF2 comes from playing the game! I just love playing it! I love that I can dress myself up as a cowboy or a Wizard or whatever I like and absolutely pubstomp some new players! (but then of course tellem GG and hope to see them again soon! - yknow, nice player stuff). People say the game is dying but If I can join a server and its completely full? Nah no way the games dead. Just wish Valve would pick it up from time to time.

But that last paragraph made me think of something, I ramble! I think thats a common trait with Autistic people, and its one I definitely have. I generally have to be stopped because I don’t know when is the right time! Sometimes I just have so so much to say on a topic because its finally something I can talk about!! I’m known as a quiet type, often being reserved and keeping to myself. But if I’m talking about Solar Farms, Piling, or my hobby intrests like TF2 and D&D I can’t stop, man. 

Other special interests I’ve had in the past were (I’ll list em but maybe comment on honourable mentions) 1) Solar System + Planets specifically 2) Dinosaurs 3) Dragons - Hon Mention: I had like over 30 dragon statuettes just around my room and often I would stim by poking their horns! I thought they were SO cool. 4) Tim Burton Films - Other than TF2 one of my longest running SIs, but I’ve been over Tim Burton films maybe since I decided I wouldnt defend Dark Shadows. I wasnt a big fan of that movie and I stopped keeping up with stuff TB made since. 5) Skyrim, and Fantasy Games in general. 6) Borderlands, this series was very intoxicating for me. I remember at the time I started dating a girl overseas about a day or two before Borderlands 2 released, and then when it came out, I played the game so much with my best friend Jake that I forgot I was dating them - and forgot to speak to them for about 3-4 days. They thought I died? Or something? It was wild! They were very mad and hated Borderlands afterwards because of it. Anyway I did want to briefly mention near the end of the post about how one of my main loves at the moment is Wizards and Cowboys. Its funny like. Wizard media on the whole I love with all my heart. But cowboys??? No. Honestly, not at all. In fact I think I really dislike almost all cowboy and western media. What I do love with all my heart and soul is the movie The Good The Bad and the Ugly!, also the whole Dollars Trilogy, and on that- the idea and persona of The Man With No Name.

I see cowboy content and I can’t stand most of it. 

Though an exception to this would be video game cowboys, and gunslingers. I also love it so much when people see a Gunslinger like Jesse McCree in Overwatch, or even just flat seeing The Good the Bad and The Ugly with people who know to call me Blondie from online - and they say “Hey thats you!” :P that always makes me laugh - but I like it. 

Special Interests are really important.

I think they should be celebrated and loved, so long as they aren’t helping anyone!

Happy Autism Acceptance Month!

[honestsycrets]

A Thousand Times NO! III

Masterlist

Gif credit: the-night-wanderer

A/N: Some shieldmaiden love for this chapter.

“She isn’t human.”

You lean over your chair at the wedding feast. Hvitserk was gleaming a bright grin, the only one of his brothers to have two beautiful brides. Or at least, one beautiful one. She was his prize after all. You were a shieldmaiden with more scars than a thrall. Ivar leans into you, lips moving against your ear.

“Of course she isn’t.” Ivar doesn’t question you. “Have you ever seen a more beautiful body?”

You snort-- yes, she was beautiful. Even you could admit when you saw a beautiful woman. She was glowing in gold and sheer fabrics as light as the clouds, so thinly wrapped that you could make out her perfect little curves behind the dress. The gold of her gown matched the golden lamb on Hvitserk’s belt, odd you thought. Given the woman’s heritage, however, perhaps it wasn’t that peculiar.

“That is exactly it. I mean it Ivar.” You warn. “Frigg appeared to me.”

That snatches his attention, pulling back with wide eyes and an even wider mouth in wonder. His attention is snatches as he brings his drink to his lips.

“The All-Mother appeared to you?” He asks with his voice sharpening somewhat. It was a game before, perhaps still a game to Ivar, but the stakes had changed. “What did she say?”

“She said if I left, we would never see him again. How peculiar it is that this comes up only when a new woman comes.” You look to your cup of ale and find that its presence in your stomach has churned somewhat. Whatever this thing was, woman or beast, it was not who Hvitserk thought she was.

“And so, what exactly do you plan on doing about that?” Ivar shoots his drink down.

“You must help me find out where this woman came from.” You turn to Ivar. The youngest of the brothers was also the more witty of the brothers. If anyone could be bothered to understand, it would be he. Ubbe would call you jealous and Sigurd the same.  They would not understand what was going on. Bjorn? Hopeless.

They were boys.

“Fine.” Ivar reclines back. You know that you will owe him something. But if he believed you, he was doing this for yes, the gods, but also the twins. Aesir and Aaldiv who sat in not just your lap, but Ivar’s too.

“Thank you, Ivar.” You turn back to sit upright in your chair with your eyes squarely focused on Hvitserk’s curvy new bride. Whoever she was, you would find out where she came from.

Hvitserk’s next few weeks would mean being snapped up in her bedroom for a sort of honeymoon like vacation. Fine with you, you had work to do.

With Aslaug informed, you kept everything under tight lips. You knew she would believe you. She believed the gods, her visions. She would care for the children and you would go about seeking what the All-Mother saw in this new woman.

“No one has heard of her.” Ivar grunts on his crutches through the crowd. He had become increasingly more mobile with them, but struggled all the same. It was better to go at his pace with such things.

“None of the sailors?” You supply as you walk beside him in a mellow yellowish dress. It wasn’t proper for a woman to go out in pants for just any reason. If you weren’t in a position to fight, you needed to act properly.

“None.” Ivar says in agreement. You stop in front of him.

“That is impossible. She is not of Kattegat. She is not of here. She has to have come on a boat. Someone would have forced her into marriage if she did not.” Your hands come to slap on your skirt. You turn up to the bruised peach colouring of the sky. It was getting late, dark. The clouds were suffocating you in confusion of what this could have been. You asked the farmers-- they had never seen her either. How could a woman appear without a trace? Your palms were sweaty, running together under a nervous tic of yours. It scared you to know someone could appear of thin air.

“I will go speak to the merchants.” Ivar turns and limps in another direction into the waving crowd of blonde and brown hair. The floodgates of your mind had pulled open-- and you quickly feel every aching moment pour into your brain in asphyxiating dread. The sailors hadn’t seen her, the farmers that plowed this land day in and out hadn’t seen her. If the merchants, who perhaps could have smuggled her in, didn’t see her… what options were left? Your jaw set tight. Tooth against tooth with your chest so tightly wound up, you thought you were choking. You set back for the Great Hall.

The moment you walked in you found Hvitserk at the table. Bizarre… bizarre because Hvitserk was supposed to be with Aalia. You came around him, sitting in a chair beside him while your sons played on the ground with thralls, both well fed.

“I thought you were with Aalia.” You inch closer to him.

“She said she had something to take care of.” He says cooly. You raise an eyebrow to regard him with a guarded gaze, holding your breath as you turn into him. He speaks too coldly for your husband whom has always been there for you. He sounded as if he didn’t want to talk to you. As if your presence was inconvenient. Was he not the same boy that had been fighting with you to stay? His eyes were shadowy and dark when you yanked him around to look at you. His eyes were clouded, a bizarre tracing of veins that appeared more like whipping tendrils gathering around his neck. How had no one noticed?

“Ivar.” You say out loud, kicking your chair back into a thrall. It’s desperation that manifests over yourself when Hvitserk goes to grab your arm. Instantly your forehead collides with his to buck him off of you, falling upon Ubbe who gapes. So does Sigurd.

“Where are you going?!” Sigurd hauls after you. But you’re already out of the door and heading toward where you know the merchants are in town. Your hands curled into white-knuckled fists, quaking as you looked for him. No one was in the street, absolutely no one.

Then you saw a body strewn over the ground limply. The blood felt clogged in the valves of your head coming upon the sight. No blood, no open wounds, but as you turn over your brother in law, you recognize his ailment. Blue roots like that of Yggradsil coursing over half of his face. Pale and cold, the dark portion of his eyes lulled back only to expose his sclera.

“Ivar!” You shake his shoulders. His limbs twitch, spasming as if he was dreaming. “Ivar don’t you die on me, you fucking idiot!”

“Oh he isn’t dead.” There’s a playful lilt on top of the sugary sweet voice of Aalia, who comes donned in sheer gold from somewhere in the alleyway. You drop Ivar’s hand, hand snapping to the dagger that you keep on the inside of your belt.

“I’ll fucking gut you in your sleep, you bitch.” You spit.

“But why would you do that?” Aalia says in a voice that lacks any hint that she is from the Middle East. Something is different-- wrong. Her voice tore through your thoughts like a dagger. Which speaking of, you jerked yours out. “Hvitserk would blame you for my death. We couldn’t have that now, could we?”

Her words create a lump in your throat. Hard, pastelike liquid seals your lips together. You knew she was right. Hvitserk would say that it was your fault-- that you were jealous. Then you would be on trial for her murder. How could you make him see?

“What did you do to my Ivar?” You say, the words foreign and dangerous on your tongue. Aalia treds closer, skin pulsing under a strange golden hue.

“You’re both too knowledgeable.” She remarks. “I gave him a kiss. That is all. Would you like one too?”

“Come try.” You snap back.

The closer she moves, the more you feel a heat radiating against your skin. Warm like a summer fire. You mark it into your memory as she moves closer. You bend low, glinting the silver of your blade at her. Then suddenly, she retreats. You see her eyes widen and chest rise hard. She was afraid. But of what? It takes a split second for you to realize it was your blade she was staring so intently upon. Aalia backs up when you come closer.

“Oh c’mon.” You laugh, renewed in vigor. “You can’t honestly say you’re afraid of a little knife.”

She stumbles over the payals on her feet. “N-No!”

You swipe her, grazing her chest but not causing her to bleed out. Her skin is unmarred-- and you understand now. You realize that perhaps this blade couldn’t harm her, but it was a part of the picture. Then as if magic, she dissipates. You’re not sure where she has gone. There is no sign of the burning flame that was the woman’s golden hair. The high from causing her to flit away rejuvenates you. You dash back to Ivar, picking him up off the ground with a harsh grunt. You’ve gotten soft. As you toss him over a shoulder, you feel your legs protesting the motion.

“Fat ass.” You grumble, making your way back to the Great Hall. You found a weakness. Now there were only a few more steps to take.

Step Two: Find what the hell Aalia is.

Step Three: Convince Hvitserk.

You had a feeling you would have a long trip ahead of you.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ateliefloresdaprimavera, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @concretewaywardangel, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @kirah34, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades @piebytheocean, @strangunddurm, @atequila, @rekdreams247, @justacrush, @ivarswonderlust, @peachesnpisces, @elenawrit, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck, @dylanowhyyien, @ilvebeenabad, @vikingsmania, @huntingbears, @my-little-wolfe, @seize-the-droid, @Certifiedpoison, @hotshotstar, @deans--chevy--baby, @moondustmemories, @colourmeinblue, @ilvebeenabad, @squirtleandeeveearethebest, @rubyquartzshades, @queenmissfit, @calaena-banrion, @hallowed-heathen, @Kirah34, @lulura, @looneytunes20033, @imamom-makingadifference, @sunlightdaniel, @neeading_hugs, @Funmadnessbadassvikings, @mblaqgi, @natmors, @triumphantreturnofpies, @DMV_49, @imavulcanatheart, @attorneyl, @nina2697, @iconicvaleria, @lovelynerdytraveler@tierneygonzalez

[kaelin-bct-blog]

Data Objects - All By Myself

I left the group and decided to focus on my own interpretation of our assessment. Leaving so late in the project may have been a risk but it is one I am satisfied with. During my time working with the others my biggest struggle was gaining motivation to work on something I was not particularly interested in. It's not that we had a bad concept it was a combination of it being about something I had little personal interest in and a lack of chemistry amongst our group members. Initially, as I mentioned before, the idea was to spread our group into working on several objects that would tie into each other which was logical due to the size of our group. Unfortunately, this proved very ambitious, as we had a tenuous grasp of the concept of a data object at best. If we had a better understanding of what kinds of data set would translate effectively things might have been easier. After a few days of searching for the right data we found ourselves falling behind other groups, and decided instead to focus on a singular topic with more readily available data that would be hopefully more straightforward in mapping it to a garment. Perhaps our determination to use clothing as the object blinded us to other avenues of exploration and design, regardless we gave in to our tunnel vision.

We started work on a shirt that would provide a physical interaction based on our data. The data was oriented around the Body Mass Index, and we were going to try to create a garment that would loosen or tighten based on that data. We got conflicting reactions from several lecturers, in fact so conflicting (as in completely opposite) that I was personally left pretty confused and ultimately hopeless. I did not understand the purpose of this assessment, and almost every idea that popped into our collective heads seemed to be simply another bar graph or pie chart plastered onto some normal boring object. It felt like we were taking two very incompatible things and simply ramming them together like a child pretending to make their toys fight until something bloody clicked.

Spoiler alert, it didn’t.

So we tried to reorganize and breathe some life into our group, start fresh and continue ramming things together making various forms of onomatopoeia but THIS time we’d do it right. We had a pretty good plan to be fair, we split into smaller teams of roughly two to three, each focused on a specific aspect of human health in relation to fast food diets. Keeping in line with at least an element of our original statement of intent, and helping divide the work into smaller packages. One group would focus on the mental health complications, another on skin and libido issues and myself and several others on various diseases such as diabetes associated with a poor diet. We would then attempt to design a garment for each of these data sets, creating an outfit to communicate the effects of junk food on the human body. So while this all felt very organized and had a taste that resembled progress it very quickly proved to be naught but a taste. Again I believe this was simply my lack of interest as I did more research. Not only that but it turns out medical datasets to do with diabetes risk factors in people with poor diets are designed for medical professionals (funny that) and as a result were pretty much impossible to understand.

So I gave up. Yes, you read that correctly. I stared into the mirror and mouthed the letter ‘F’ for a while till I got bored of that too.

Then it struck me, why don’t I just do something I find interesting and fun? That was my focus from the very beginning, I knew everyone would jump on the depressing and serious issues bus as soon as we started this project. That is why I had made a silent oath to myself to do something that didn’t make me incredibly sad the minute I tried to work on it. And I want to be clear that although I may sound like I’m making fun of those serious subjects, I am not. Laughing at the fact that many people jumped on the same incredibly sad datasets does not remove from the seriousness of the data itself and why people chose those datasets. Moving on.

So I went back to good ol’ video games. And boy am I glad I did. It turns out being interested in the thing the numbers relate to makes the numbers less mind-numbing and allows the brain to actually think about what to do with the numbers. I scrawled through some interesting sites and found a data set that grabbed my attention, highest number of players in a game in a one hour period. This inspired me to track down where the figure came from, and of course, I ended up at Steam. Steam for those who are unaware is a very popular marketplace for games on PC, probably the biggest in the world. It has various other things like forums, guides, achievements, chat rooms and any number of gaming peripherals (software based) and is thus probably one of the biggest gaming communities on earth. It also helps that the company that runs it, Valve, keeps track of pretty much every statistic involving games and player bases that it gives to the public for free. I felt like I had struck the most obvious vein of gold in the world. Now for an object.

The fact that the first statistic that caught my eye was the fact that Player Unkown’s Battlegrounds had three million players on in one hour came to mind. What exactly was it about that fact that made it so impressive? Well, I believe it was the time frame. Three million is not exactly a large number in our day and age, especially in relation to the internet and video games. The fact that we managed to have three million human beings in one tiny online world that makes up an impossibly small sliver of cyberspace real estate in the same hour is fairly mind-boggling. Every time I try imagining it I see the Tron equivalent of New York. I understand that this image isn’t accurate or even relevant, but it's what gave me some scope as to why it was so cool. If you want a practical or marketable reason (I don’t know why you would, they always suck the soul out of cool stuff) as to why this is important, it's very simple. Three million people passing through a single digital space is basically a license to print money in our modern economy. You could potentially advertise to just under the population of Los Angeles in one hour. So there, practical reason tacked on to the fact that this is simply a cool statistic. Not only that, but this to me is one of the biggest harbingers of what is to come. If you’ve read Neal Stephenson’s ‘Snowcrash’ you might understand why this makes me so excited. If you haven’t, please go read it then come finish reading this.

So this was why I decided to see if I could map the peak player populations of the biggest video games on Steam to an analog clock. Not only that but I find something vaguely entertaining in the irony of using analog to symbolize the fact that we are so deeply into digital it's not even funny.

I have two prototypes and my final product all done. The first prototype involved taking the top four game populations at the respective peaks they reached and mapping them to four sections of the clock. For example, I mapped the population of Player Unknown’s Battlegrounds (PubG) between numbers twelve to three on the clock. I took the peak population (3,227,432) and divided it by four. I then took that result and listed it at the number twelve, then doubled it and put that at the one hour mark, then tripled it and so on. This means that on the clock the population starts at a quarter of its total and over the course of four hours reaches its peak. This is done with four games in total, PubG, DOTA 2, Counter-Strike: Global Offensive and Fallout 4.

The issues with this prototype were that it was very simple, there was little more to it than a pie chart in my mind. I wanted the population distribution growing by the hour to help communicate how massive these figures were, to truly get across the significance of this kind of population growth in such a short time. So how could I add complexity to this design, avoid the pie chart aspect while still showing multiple game populations and the significance of their size?

The second prototype used a different method of mapping the data. I decided to use the hands themselves and the way in which they moved to map the data. So, in this case, the second hand would go from a lower number and work it's way around the clock until one minute had passed. On the minute mark (once returning to its starting point) it would have reached the full peak player population figure. This would be repeated with the minute and hour hands, each one representing a player population. This meant that I lost one population figure as there are only three hands. However I think there is something sleeker about the top three populations being mapped, it is generally how we rank competitions so it was fitting that three would have to do. I followed a similar principle to the first prototype, dividing the final population figures by sixty for the second and minute hands and by twelve for the hour hand. I knew that I would not be able to fit sixty different figures on the clock face though, so I placed a figure on the twelve, three, six and nine hour marks. This would allow for an easy enough distribution while still retaining a good sense of how massive these populations could be. There were three sets of figures on each of these hour marks, which got a little difficult to read in some cases. Not only that but I had not realized that placement of the numbers would not clearly show which hand was relevant to which number. I liked the idea of using the turning of the hands themselves, it made sense to utilize the primary mechanics of my chosen object to display my dataset. The issue was making it clear how the mechanics of the clock would ‘point’ to the appropriate data.

With the final step in creating my object, I decided to use the same method as my second prototype, but in this case I created a key to label which number was represented by which hand on the clock itself. They also happen to be colour coded in order to help make it more clear which number relates to which player population by video game. As simplistic as the design has remained I am satisfied that it breaks down a large number that can be easily glossed over without understanding its significance, and by causing a person to have to see as it gradually gets to the final figure it highlights just how large these numbers are.

[unicyclehippo]

ok bc i have no self control Whatsoever - patterson & jane

//

she’s the smartest one in the room, pretty much always. it’s not something she likes to bring attention to for a number of reasons—everyone in the team is brilliant at something, everyone brings their own skills to the table, it’s not polite—but it’s something she knows like she knows that two is the prime element in the Z/6Z quotient ring. a fact. 

so when she has no idea what to do, it’s a new and frightening situation for her. 

‘patterson?’

jane—taylor, maybe—touches her elbow very gently and patterson looks up at the bird tattooed across her neck, at the choppy haircut, and then, finally, knowing that she must, at the concern in jane’s eyes. 

‘hi, hey, are you headed out? too? because i certainly am, yup.’ patterson clicks again at the button to the elevator, realising that this is the sixth one that she’s called. she hears the faint click of moisture in jane’s—taylor’s?—mouth when she opens her mouth to speak and she thought she could deal with it, she really did, but the relief that crashes through her at the sound of the elevator doors opening is...really something. ‘oh wow that was quick! i should, uh, time these elevators at some point.’

‘you don’t already know?’ jane asks, stepping in with her. patterson chances another look and jane has her head tilted away, shoulders hunched a bit uncomfortably. 

‘it differs in a lot of elevators, actually,’ patterson tells her, and she lets the facts filter out. ‘gearless traction elevators move, eh, about twenty metres per second.’ jane makes a small sound of surprise and patterson grins. ‘which is cool, right? that’s only a climbing speed, though, and it doesn’t factor in acceleration and deceleration time but, you know what I mean. but yes, that’s climbing. safety regulations mean that descent is restricted to ten metres per second.’ the elevator dings politely and patterson lights up, gesturing to the opening doors. ‘fortuitous timing.’

‘yeah, that’s cool.’ jane looks a little baffled but she’s nice enough not to mention it. 

she walks out with patterson, through the lobby and toward the street. patterson picks up her pace a little; with every second that goes by, it’s another second that jane might try to talk to her about it.

‘i heard the call this morning,’ jane bites out before they make it to the door.

patterson sighs and slows. ‘oh.’

‘yeah. sorry.’ jane looks as awkward and uncomfortable as patterson feels but the difference is that she presses on. ‘i think you should go.’

‘excuse me?’

‘i know, i’m sorry, it’s none of my business,’ she hurries to say, ‘but i think—pattereson, i don’t know anything about my life or the people i lost or, or, hell i don’t even know what my favourite colour is and when i get flashes of anything, it’s...’

‘good?’

‘terrifying, actually.’

‘oh.’ 

‘yeah.’ jane shoves her hands into her pockets, casts a look over the street. it’s not a look that civilians have; it’s one patterson recognises from weller, from zapata and reed. mayfair less so but patterson thinks that’s just because she’s better than all of them. patterson adds it to her growing number of mental notes on jane. ‘anyway, i know it’s not the same but, you said to me that you feel empty.’ she lowers her voice, which patterson is grateful for. ‘maybe if you go to this dinner and, and surround yourself with all the things you and d-david,’ she stumbles a little over his name. likely because patterson feels herself flinch. ‘sorry.’

‘it’s fine.’

‘right. it was just a thought.’ jane shrugs. ‘uh—good night, patterson.’

‘good night.’

they part at the door, jane toward the train, patterson toward the taxi rank. 

//

‘i’m not brave like you.’

jane looks very much surprised to see her there, which...shouldn’t surprise patterson. but it does because she tends not to think about what other people are thinking; she gets so wrapped up in her own plans and train of thought that she forgets that other people aren’t following. or can’t. 

‘patterson, what,’

‘i’m sorry,’ she says, steps back from the door. ‘i’m sorry, i totally just barged into your life and,’

‘hey, whoa, calm down.’

jane’s hands settle around hers; they’re cold, and patterson hisses, wraps her own always-warm fingers around hers. 

‘your hands are freezing.’

‘yeah, i,’ jane looks embarrassed. ‘i can’t get the heater to work.’

‘what?’

‘i—can remember how to take out a guy in two seconds flat,’ she grumbles, ‘but i can’t remember how to turn on a radiator.’

‘oh. oh no.’ patterson doesn’t mean to sound amused but...she is. 

jane rolls her eyes. ‘yeah, yeah. hey, you’re smart.’

‘i...i am, yes.’

‘come on in then,’ jane offers, and she opens up the door to her safe house and guides her in. ‘it’s over there.’ she points and patterson nods. 

'oh sure, you just need to turn the valve.’

‘the...valve.’ jane lifts a hand to her forehead. ‘of course.’

patterson tries not to smile, pressing her lips tight, but she can’t really help it. until she remembers why she had come, and then her smile drops away. ‘i, actually, came to ask you for a favour.’

jane leans back against the counter, crosses her arms over her chest. ‘sure.’

‘really?’

‘yeah.’ when patterson doesn’t say anything, twisting her fingers together until it starts to hurt a little, jane says, ‘you said you’re not brave.’

‘huh?’

‘when i opened the door. that’s what you said. is that about the restaurant booking?’

‘the—no, pfft, no, it’s about something completely different and—yes. yeah, it is,’ she sighs, when jane just looks at her, eyebrows raised. ‘it is. i want to go—actually, funny story, doctor borden said something really similar to what you did, which means it’s probably a good idea and,’

‘patterson?’

‘huh?’

‘breathe.’

‘right.’ patterson sucks in a breath. ‘i don’t want to go alone.’

jane blinks. she straightens, a look of surprise mixed pity—no, not pity, something that grates less at patterson. understanding, maybe? the look is there for a second and then it’s gone. 

‘i’ll get my jacket.’

//

they look ridiculous.

the restaurant is nice, something david always insisted dressing up for. ‘anything to treat my lady,’ he would say with that goofy smile of his,that made all those crinkles curl around his lips and his eyes, and patterson feels warm and then so, so cold thinking about his smile. 

‘steady,’ jane murmurs next to her, and patterson lets go of jane’s wrist where she’s clutching so tight jane’s skin has gone blister white.

‘sorry.’

‘it’s fine,’ she says, and she sounds honest, she sounds like she really wasn’t hurt, and patterson lets herself wonder as they’re lead to the reserved table what exactly jane might have gone through. what kind of pain she might have felt. true, patterson isn’t the strongest person but having someone grab at your arm so tight hurts a little, she’s sure of it. does she just have a high pain threshold? stupid, she chides herself, we already know that she does. yes to a high pain threshold, and to experience, judging from the scars. 

‘patterson,’ jane murmurs, and she touches a hand to patterson’s elbow to pull her back into the moment. ‘we can leave, if,’

‘no. no. i’m here.’ she forces herself to look at jane, smile. ‘i’m okay.’

‘okay.’

jane nods to their server, a young asian man wearing a very neat apron tied around his waist, and he sets the water and their glasses on the table.

‘may i get you something to drink?’

‘bourbon,’ patterson says, almost a rasp.

‘i—uh,’

‘two bourbons,’ patterson corrects herself, and the man nods and leaves with a brisk step. ‘if you don’t like it, i’ll drink it.’

jane, instead of looking worried by the comment, grins. ‘good to know.’

she’s wearing a leather jacket over a thin hoodie and her best non-stained shirt. and patterson, she couldn’t change out of her work clothes for this—couldn’t think about it being anything like a date with her now-d—her now dead boyfriend, so she’s in the same clothes she’s been wearing all day and smells a bit of sweat and chemicals. super attractive. she hopes david is happy. the thought sends a pang through her chest and she takes the bourbon when it arrives, wraps her fingers around the glass, and sips at it. 

jane tastes the bourbon too. ‘not bad.’

‘you might like whiskey. i wouldn’t be surprised, actually, you have a bit of a,’ patterson wiggles her fingers toward...jane. just all of her. ‘whiskey vibe.’

‘what’s a,’ jane mimics her, grin growing, ‘whiskey vibe?’

‘i don’t know. just, zapata plays this game where she looks at someone and figures out what their favourite drink is. she’s pretty good at it.’

‘what did she say about me?’

patterson sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, tries to smile. it comes out as a bit of a grimace. ‘she didn’t know.’

jane turns her head away, laughs. there’s a harsh edge to it, but just the edge. the rest is a little sad. ‘figures.’

‘sorry.’ patterson looks over at her for a minute longer, the line of her neck, the lines of her tattoos, before she takes up the menu and scans it. ‘do you know what you want to eat?’ her neck and cheeks burn when the silence stretches on and she clears her throat. ‘right. memory.’

‘yup.’

‘well, how about we get another bourbon each and pick some random meals and we see what you like? it’s all really good here,’ she adds.

looking up to see how jane feels about that, the other woman just shrugs, nods. ‘it’s fine, patterson. this isn’t about me anyway.’

‘no. it’s about my dead boyfriend having made a reservation for me and me needing a f-friend to come with me so that i can face it. and i’m not doing too well,’ she says, as lightly as she can, fingers fluttering at the sides of the menu, ‘so let me do something nice for you so i don’t have to think about it. okay?’

jane’s eyes flash again. ‘yes ma’am.’

‘thank you.’ she downs the rest of her bourbon when she sees the waiter making his way over. the burn of it makes her voice tight and high—or maybe the whole situation, who could tell? ‘two more bourbons, please, and we’ll take the tasting course.’

‘of course. excellent choice.’

//

the wait for their meal is excruciating until patterson remembers the crossword she shoved into her bag. she pulls it out and jane instantly moves to clear a space on the table between them, an interested frown creasing her brow. 

‘you like crosswords?’

‘i don’t know.’

‘but you remember what they are?’

‘sure. borden said that i have my... my procedural memory is fine but my declarative memory is,’ she makes a sound like a miniature explosion, opens her fingers out from her right temple. ‘so i know what a crossword is but i can’t remember ever having done one before.’

‘right.’ patterson drums her fingers on the newspaper. ‘this is the times crossword, it’s kind of a big deal. lots of readers, lots of followers. they’re pretty difficult.’

‘okay.’

‘and i have a way i like to do it,’

‘patterson.’ she looks up a little nervously to find that jane is outright grinning at her. ‘we can do it your way.’

‘okay great, it’s just that i have a way that i like to do things and,’

‘and i don’t remember having a specific method so i don’t mind using yours. we’re a perfect fit,’ jane drawls. ‘go ahead.’

patterson wants to laugh, almost, at the comment but she isn’t sure if that would be in poor taste. instead, she quirks a little smile at jane—relieved to see it returned—and pulls the crossword toward herself. 

‘i like to start by using the gimme’s.’

‘gimme’s?’

‘oh, those are, like, the easiest ones. the ones you can fill out without even trying. once i have those, it’s like having landmarks that you can pin into a word and work backwards from there.’

‘got it.’

‘okay, so, drones, seven letters—‘

‘like airforce drones?’

‘not necessarily. the crosswords are a bit of wordplay sometimes so it might mean a surveillance system of some kind or it could mean,’

‘you already know what it is.’

‘it’s menials, i’m sorry,’ she apologises, writing the word into its place. 

jane laughs. ‘next one. maybe by the end i’ll actually get one before you.’

patterson sucks in a breath through her teeth. ‘is that a challenge?’

‘i think it is, yeah.’

‘you should know that i am incredibly bright.’

jane shrugs. ‘i might be too. let’s find out.’

//

‘five down, six letters, response to don’t panic.’

‘panic,’ jane says promptly, making patterson grin. 

‘that’s five letters and it doesn’t fit with the letter l that we have.’

jane cranes her neck over her plate, purses her lips. ‘something that ends in calm?’

patterson taps her nose with her pen, nods. ‘very good.’

‘you already guessed that.’

she smiles at jane, ignores the way her vision blurs to put david’s face sitting across from her. tugging her attention back to the page, she murmurs a quiet, slightly smug, 'maybe.’

//

‘navigation abbreviation. three letters.’

‘ene.’

‘huh?’

‘ene,’ jane repeats. ‘east nor east.’

patterson points to her, competition and success shining from her eyes. ‘good one.’

‘wow, that sounded painful.’

‘it wasn’t. i’m thrilled you got one.’

‘keep trying, patterson, i nearly believed you that time.’

//

‘got. one. patterson.’

‘what?’

‘that’s what it says,’ jane tells her. ‘got one, patterson. do you think...’

‘david,’ she whispers, snatching the paper back. she traces the letters, fingers shaking. ‘what—‘

‘you said he booked the restaurant a month ago, right?’

‘yeah.’

‘and you said that you do crosswords on your romantic nights out?’

‘yeah.’

‘so,’

‘he got a clue in a crossword for me, for us to solve together? why would he do that?’

jane purses her lips. ‘he solved one of my tattoos with you, right?’

‘well, yeah, but,’

‘miss? something sweet?’

patterson looks up, smiles a tremulous smile at their server who sets the slice in front of her and makes a quick getaway. she isn’t sure if it’s a heavily tattooed woman in leather, or a plain, sweet looking woman perpetually on the verge of tears, but he hasn’t lingered at all tonight. 

‘there’s a sheep on my dessert.’

‘is that common?’

‘i,’

‘i’ll find out.’ jane stands swiftly, sets a hand on her shoulder when she passes by headed for the kitchen. only moments later, she’s back. ‘it’s not common. david came by weeks ago with it and directions to put it on your cake.’

patterson glances over at the david in jane’s abandoned chair. ‘why? david, what is this?’

he smiles. ‘a clue.’

‘a clue.’ she turns the sheep over between her fingers. ‘got one patterson. you solved another tattoo. he solved another tattoo,’ she says, bursting from her chair. ‘we have to go!’

‘patterson!’ jane tears after her, following her out of the restaurant. ‘patterson, wait!’

‘we can’t wait—i’m not crazy, jane, david left this for us—me—to follow and,’

jane catches her hands, one a fist around the little sheep. ‘i don’t think you’re crazy. i just don’t have any money and we have to pay the bill.’

‘oh. oh.’ patterson looks back to the restaurant, the server waiting, nervous, on the stairs. ‘yes, yes, of course, i’m so sorry.’

//

‘do you really think it’s a good idea to break into this apartment?’

‘we showed him our badges,’

‘your badge,’

‘my badge,’ patterson nods, a grumpy little frown making her nose crinkle. ‘i can’t believe he didn’t let us in!’

‘not everyone loves the FBI.’

‘yeah, well, this is really important and—what are you doing?’

‘huh?’

‘why are you climbing—jane, get down.’

‘you said we need to get in there,’ jane points out very reasonably. ‘that is a ladder.’

‘that is illegal.’

‘do you want to find out what your boyfriend left for us or not?’

‘left for me,’ patterson reminds her, sharply, and jane steps back. the metal taps under her boots and then there’s a dull sound as she jumps down from the air conditioning unit. ‘i’m sorry.’

‘don’t be, it’s fine. it’s your information to follow. however you want to do it.’

‘it’s yours too,’ patterson reminds her. ‘i mean, it’s literally yours.’ she waves a hand to jane, her body, and turns back to the ladder. ‘i don’t think i can make that jump.’

‘you can. i’ll go first, kick it down for you. you climb up after me. if that’s what you want to do.’

her eyes are totally calm fixed on her, though they’re the colour of a churning green sea, and patterson’s breath hitches at the thought of directing jane—a super secret memory-wiped top agent—to do something that’s super illegal like breaking into an apartment block. it’s wrong. very wrong.

it’s also pretty cool, and she’s had three drinks, and she wants to. 

‘do it.’

jane nods. she swings back up onto the air-conditioning unit. while patterson does the math—force, distance, mass, time—jane simply looks and then leaps. her hands catch around rusted bars and she heaves herself up like a chin-up, pulling the ladder further down with an ugly squeal of metal. 

‘better hurry,’ she advises. ‘we don’t know who heard that.’

‘right. right. because it’s super illegal.’

‘last chance to back out.’

‘no.’ she clambers up the ladder until she’s on the fire escape next to her. ‘this could save lives. it’s important.’

and, she doesn’t tell jane, she can see david waving down at her cheerily from a few levels above. 

she pushes ahead of jane, climbs the steps quickly. there’s a single heart-stopping moment three floors up where one of the railings gives way and she topples through it, falls. and then jane is right there and she grabs the back of patterson’s jacket and swings her into the ladder. there’s another horrid squeal crunch of metal and patterson is shaking but she’s alive and clutching onto the ladder.

‘you okay? come on,’ jane guides her, voice soothing. ‘climb back over. i’ll go first and make sure it’s all safe.’

‘o-okay,’ patterson nods, and jane’s cool hands ease her tight grip on the rungs and grab her thigh behind the knee and haul her over the railing. ‘you’re bleeding,’ patterson pants.

‘huh?’ jane pokes at a red spot on her shirt, wipes it away on dark jeans. ‘no, it’s nothing. rust.’

‘i am a scientist, i know what blood looks like.’

‘fine, it’s blood,’ jane allows, but doesn’t tell her where it’s from or if she’s okay, instead walking ahead to test the railings and the steps. 

the landlord from before starts to yell at them, slamming his window shut. they hear his feet on the inside stairwell and exchange a look, running up to beat him.

//

‘alright, we’re inside. now what?’

the landlord screams at them from the other side of the door. jane drags a chair across the apartment and tucks it underneath the jiggling handle. 

‘that’ll stop him for now,’ she says. ‘but not for long. and i feel like i probably shouldn’t kill him.’

‘probably not,’ patterson huffily agrees, though adrenaline and alcohol are mixing to make her feel like, hell, maybe jane should take him out. she wheels around to point to david, who leans cockily against the window like an asshole. ‘and you! all your shit is gone! why didn’t you tell me that before we wasted all this time getting here?’

‘how would i know that? i only know what you know,’ he points out, and patterson makes a disgusted sound, turns away from him, throwing her hands up into the air. remembering her company, she spins around to find that jane is examining the walls and floorboards, testing for suspicious creaks and knocks. 

‘i’m not crazy.’

‘i didn’t say anything.’

‘i know.’ patterson does know that, and she would leave it. except for the fact that if jane mentioned it to mayfair, or borden, or weller then...then she wouldn’t have her job anymore. no one wants to work with or hire someone who talks to ghosts. ‘i know he’s not real,’ she continues. ‘i just...it makes me feel,’

‘better?’

‘yes.’ 

the landlord batters again at the door. screams his head off to be let in. 

like hell, patterson thinks, and tunes him out.

jane nods, walks the perimeter of the apartment slowly. ‘i can’t see any normal hidey-holes,’ she says. ‘it’s your boyfriend, your clue. where would he hide it?’

‘well. everything is gone. but,’ she glances over to the still-grinning david, looking the same as he had in life, lovely brown eyes, glasses slightly smudged. hope that this might not be an entire waste of time, she starts to talk out loud, hoping that will help her pick up on something she’s missed. ‘he gave me the crossword clue. and the sheep—of course. the sheep.’

‘of course!’ jane agrees.

patterson looks eagerly over to her, only to stop and laugh when she realises that jane is joking. ‘it’s—it’s from one of your favourite boardgames,’ she explains, fishing the sheep out from the zip up pocket in her bag. ‘you have the sheep and you cook it in the fireplace.’

jane’s eyes flash to the fireplace. she strides over, hand disappearing into the dark space up to the shoulder. after a moment, she takes her hand back and stands. 

‘well?’

‘it’s your find,’ jane tells her, waving her forward. ‘i just wanted to make sure it was safe.’

‘oh. i—okay.’ patterson kneels. sets her bag to the side. she slips her hand up the inside of the fireplace, fingertips brushing against rough brick and the smooth band of metal and then—‘i feel it. a bag?’

‘that’s what it felt like to me.’

it crinkles under her questing fingers and she sticks her tongue out, reaches a little further. grabbing it, patterson pulls it out and stands, bringing it over to jane to examine. 

‘a key?’

‘carson’s clockworks. i know this, it’s a speakeasy on willabe street.’

‘well then.’ jane grins, orange from the streetlight throwing her face into a puzzle of shadow and light that patterson finds fascinating, beautiful. she moves before patterson can memorise it, though. ‘what are we waiting for?’ she asks, voice tight with anticipation, and her cold fingers wrap around patterson’s wrist and she tugs her to the window. 

//

the speakeasy has an automaton— ‘is that not the coolest thing ever?’ she asks jane, who agrees but in a placating kind of way, which makes patterson roll her eyes— that stabs a constellation into the placemat. 

‘lets get this back to the lab. i’m about nine hundred per cent sure that it’s andromeda but i want to be certain.’

‘nine hundred per cent isn’t certain?’

‘not in my line of work,’ patterson grins. the alcohol has mostly burned off by now so she’s running on fumes and maybe a little desperation. that this whole thing isn’t a waste of time, that david really did solve another clue. that somehow, just for this one night, she can keep him right here next to her a minute longer. 

it’s funny, being back in the exact same place only a few hours later, and jane grins at her when she leans back against the wall of the elevator, watching the numbers click over in the screen of the elevator. 

‘thank you,’ patterson blurts out after a few seconds that draws out to feel like an age. ‘for coming with me tonight and doing...all of this. without question.’ jane nods, shrugs, but patterson continues on. she wants more than that, she thinks. some acknowledgement that jane knows that this is above and beyond. ‘people don’t, they don’t really do things like this.’

‘what? help people out?’

‘you barely know me,’ patterson says quietly, steps to halfway across the elevator. jane’s arms come up to fold over her chest, so patterson stops. ‘i just, i just mean that i’m thankful. and you didn’t have to do any of this so the fact that you did, it...it means a lot.’

‘you’re welcome,’ jane says in that low, crackled rasp of hers. it gets stronger when she’s tired or worked up or maybe uncomfortable, patterson has noticed, so she steps back and bobs a nod, smiles. 

david, in the corner, smiles too. 

‘so, to your lab?’

‘yes! to the lab.’

//

‘it’s the bull,’ patterson whispers. ‘but we’ve figured that one out already.’ she sags, lifts shaking hands to press against suddenly hot eyes. ‘weeks ago.’

‘patterson,’

she jerks away from the cold touch to her shoulder and there’s a moment when she thinks jane is going to leave but then she’s holding her again and turning her into her chest, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

‘it’s okay,’ 

‘it’s not, it’s not okay! i dragged you all across the city because i thought we would solve another,’

‘patterson.’

she pulls back, swipes under her eyes. jane shakes her head. 

‘i didn’t go with you because i thought we would solve a tattoo. i went with you because you asked me to.’

patterson blinks up at her. ‘oh.’

jane’s lips flatten into an uncomfortable grimace. ‘yeah. besides, maybe it’s one of the tattoos that has a second meaning,’ she suggests, like it isn’t the most brilliant thing anyone has ever said before, and when patterson gapes at her, she says, ‘is that stupid?’

‘stup—no. no that’s amazing,’ patterson tells her with a surprised laugh. the slip of emotions is dizzying but so is the possibility of another clue and so patterson grabs onto that and whirls back to her monitor. ‘what are we missing!’

//

‘it would make sense if it was taurus, it would connect to the constellations,’ she suggests, chewing on her lip.

‘right.’ jane squints at the screen, clearly out of her depth. she smiles grimly at patterson. ‘i’m sorry, i’m not much of a partner for this bit.’

‘that’s okay. we just need to find someone to chase down or shoot and we’ll be right up your alley again. that was a joke.’

‘you’re not wrong,’ jane shrugs. ‘you think it’s constellation aligned. taurus is a bull.’

‘yeah, but that’s too general. what about this,’ she points to the eye, blank where the rest of the bull is totally filled. ‘this...could be a star.’ she lines up the taurus constellation with it, barks a satisfied laugh when the star and line of the constellation fits perfectly with it. ‘ah! we solved it! that’s great!’

‘and what is the name of that star?’ david asks, and for a moment his face moves through jane’s to smile at her. 

she blinks quickly, looks away from that back to the screen. ‘alderbaran. what...is aldebaran?’

//

‘this is the only place within three hundred miles with the word alderbaran in the name.’

‘can’t imagine why, it just rolls off the tongue,’ david snarks from her left. 

‘super catchy,’ jane drawls from her right.

‘tattoo must point to something in here,’ patterson tells...them...and she makes her way to the shop door, talks her way inside. it isn’t long before the owner offers them tea, and breakfast, and patterson is already telling him about david, and the scavenger hunt, before she notices jane’s frantic signals not to say anything. 

he leaves to bring out some pieces from his astrological section and jane strides over. 

‘what was that about?’ patterson asks her. 

‘you just told him everything.’

‘not everything.’

‘enough, then.’

‘he seemed nice. and he gave me tea.’

jane squeezes her eyes shut. ‘patterson, everyone seems nice. it doesn’t mean they’re not...’

‘what? russian spies?’ 

‘honestly? yes.’

‘that’s enough, mark is nice.’

jane sighs. ‘i’m going to look out back for more bulls or something. just be careful.’

//

she doesn’t see the rag. 

//

‘—blood sacrifice under taurus—they sent another message! —lovely veins,‘

‘i’m so stupid.’

‘opposite, opposite,’ david says, and patterson sobs because it’s just one more fucking sign that he’s just a figment of her own mind.

//

the ropes rasp against her skin, burning red lines around her wrists. 

the snow is freezing on her bare feet.

‘jane,’ she whispers to the trees, stretching out forever into the distance. ‘god, jane,’ she says again—if he did this to her, what did they do to jane? 

//

‘hey, hey don’t do that. don’t you give up. we’re gonna stay here, stay quiet, stay low.’

//

‘patterson,’

‘that’s jane,’ david says. ‘go to her. pick yourself up and go to her.’

‘she’s not real.’

‘she is, she’s real,’

‘right. real in the same way you’re real.’

david’s face falls. ‘patterson, trust me. she’s real. go to her.’

//

she has a log in her hands and he’s there, nice mark with the bleeding scratch she gave him, and jane is in his crosshairs and it hurts so much to hold onto the log that it’s almost a relief when she loses her hold of it, smacking it up into his arms and making his shot go wide.

blood spatters bright red over the white snow—it’s not poetic, or holy, blood spilled under the taurus stars. it’s just red. 

and patterson hurts all over. 

jane’s hands feel warm, which isn’t a good sign. ‘—hear me? can you hear me, patterson?’

‘i - i can hear you.’

‘we need to get you warm,’ she says, and her words are brisk but so, so gentle, and she strips off her own jacket and helps her into it and then, telling her exactly what she’s going to do, she crouches down and pulls patterson up and over her shoulder and carries her out of the forest and back to their truck.

the cold and the air still stings her feet and hands and face, but jane’s jacket is burningly warm around her and she just keeps talking to her, ‘you’re gonna be okay, patterson, you did so good, i’m so proud of you, you did so good’ and patterson relaxes. 

//

the hospital releases her once her core temperature is normal again. her toes are still tingling but she buys three pairs of socks from the giftshop - all of them ugly - and checks out AMA. the ride to david’s old apartment is inadvisable by any stretch of the imagination but she stops a few buildings down and leans against the railing, looks up at the window of his old apartment and remembers the plants that used to hang there and how they could see the new years fireworks from the firestairs. 

‘thank you.’

‘for what?’

‘everything. today. and the scavenger hunt.’

‘have you forgotten that i almost got you killed?’

patterson smiles. shakes her head. it’s harsh to hear that from him because it’s her own stupid mind saying it, and it’s hypocritical because she is the one that got him killed. she looks down at her hands and can’t make them move, too stiff in her mittens. when she cries, she can’t stop that from happening either. 

‘i’m so sorry,’ she tells him. ‘i - i don’t know how i’m ever going to forgive myself,’

‘you can’t blame yourself.’ the words don’t sound real, not really. because she still feels guilty and so fake-david doesn’t really believe what he’s saying either? or because she doesn’t want to hear it?

‘i do. if i hadn’t’ve,’

‘it’s not your fault. you loved me. i know that. and i loved you. you know that. i won’t go away. i know you think you’re never gonna find someone like me again and,’ he shrugs, with a cocky little tilt of his head. ‘well, you’re right. it’ll be impossible to find someone of my specific intellectual and,’ he grins, ‘sexual gifts. i know it seems impossible but one day you’re gonna be ready for someone else. and they’re gonna be incredible.’ patterson shakes her head. david presses on. ‘know who i’ve always liked? that jane chick.’

‘what?’ patterson’s head snaps around. ‘you’ve never even met her.’

‘oh wow, you’re right. it’s almost like i’m a manifestation of your subconscious or something.’ he laughs when she huffs, looks away. like a pang in the chest, she knows what he’s going to say next before he says it. upside of creating company yourself—you always know what they’re gonna say. that would make everything so much easier. or not, because when he does say it, her heart still breaks a little. ‘i’m gonna go.’

‘i don’t want you to,’ she says, almost a wail. she’s glad there’s no one around to see her.

‘i know. but i’m already gone.’

patterson lingers a minute longer, then as carefully as she can with numbed fingers, she sets the little sheep on the rail. 

‘goodbye, david.’

there’s a figure all in black at the end of the street, dark hair chopped to just below her ears. patterson stops when she’s on the corner across from jane, noticing that she didn’t bother to hide herself. 

‘see everything you wanted to see?’ she calls over, knowing it’s not fair to be harsh to her but unable to help it. ‘crazy patterson who gets herself kidnapped talks to her dead boyfriend. more on the six o’clock news!’

jane stares over at her, eyes so dark in her bone-white face. ‘you shouldn’t have left the hospital.’

‘i was cold. it’s not like i’d been shot or something.’

‘you were freezing,’ jane hisses, nearly unheard from across the street. she looks both ways before jogging over. patterson thinks about leaving but doesn’t; she really is very cold and she can’t make her legs move. whatever jane wants to say—probably how foolish it was to talk to mark, or go into the backroom without her, or anything else like that—what she does say is, ‘do you need help?’

‘no.’

jane waits. 

patterson’s shoulders slump. ‘yes,’ she whispers. ‘i can’t feel my legs super well.’

‘okay.’ 

//

jane flags down a car, takes her home. she must have found a wallet somewhere because she pays with some tattered twenties over the picked vinyl taxi seat and helps patterson out, and up into her apartment. 

‘exposed brick. nice.’

‘you like that?’

‘apparently,’ jane tells her, turning her head slightly to grin at patterson. their faces are very close together and jane looks quickly away. ‘keys?’

‘here.’

she hands them over, well aware that she can’t use them when her fingers are like icicles. 

jane leads her to the bathroom, runs the water warm and leaves her with instructions to slowly heat up the water so she doesn’t scald herself. 

patterson doesn’t know why but she assumed that jane would leave but fifty minutes later when she stumbles out of her bedroom, pink-skinned and dressed in her thickest flannel pyjamas, two blankets in her arms, there she is. staring at the wall.

‘oh. that’s, those are,’

‘my tattoos. i thought you were told to stop bringing them home,’ jane says, but she doesn’t sound mad.

‘i was. i did.’ patterson dumps the blankets onto the kitchen counter. ‘but. i’m sorry—is it weird for you to see?’

‘they’re on my body,’ jane tells her. ‘it’s not any weirder. besides, i’ve got a wall of my own. i’m really not allowed to bring things out of headquarters, though, so all of mine are hand-drawn.’

‘really? you’re an artist, then?’

‘i’m pretty sure i was a soldier,’ jane tells her, exhaustion written into every line of her body and in the flatness of her voice. she turns away from the wall, casts a careful look over the apartment, over patterson. ‘you look warmer.’

patterson becomes very aware of the beanie on her head, bright pink with little round tufts of fur. ‘ah. yes. i am.’

‘good.’ she looks toward the door. ‘can i sleep here tonight? on the couch, i mean?’

‘yes.’

‘i won’t get in the way and i’ll clean up after—oh. okay. great.’

‘you saved my life, jane. you can sleep here.’

‘it was a, a team effort,’ jane points out, and she scratches a little uncomfortably at the tattoos on her left wrist, the beehive on her hand. 

‘and if they wanted to stay over, they could,’ patterson lies without a flicker of hesitation. ‘d-david used to get cold so there are a lot of blankets. you’re welcome to take some.’

‘thanks.’

‘you’re welcome.’ patterson looks to the kitchen, to the tea she was going to make for herself and the file she was going to look over, but maybe it’s the long shower, maybe it’s knowing that jane would watch her the whole time—or even help—or maybe it’s the fact that she is keenly aware that there is very little in this world, blood-sacrificers included, that can get through jane, but she feels the lure and tug of sleep at her eyelids. ‘goodnight,’ she yawns, and to her surprise jane strides across the room and pulls her into an incredibly gently hug. 

‘i’m glad you’re safe,’ jane tells her, and patterson curls her fingers into the shirt jane is wearing, still blood-stained, and breathes in the smell of gun-smoke and sweat and pine and biting cold. 

she blinks. an arm curls beneath her knees. 

she blinks. the light in her room flickers on. 

she blinks. a cool hand brushes against her chin as it tugs warm blankets up. ‘sorry,’ a familiar voice rasps. ‘cold hands, i know.’

‘s’okay,’ patterson slurs. 

she blinks. the room is dark, but the door is cracked open an inch. there’s a faint hint of light and the flutter of papers. jane, she remembers, and sinks into her pillow, sighs. she is warm, and safe, and for now that’s kind of the most she can hope for.