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jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 3 years

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The Last Weekend (S2, E13)

It’s been a trip fam. Hopefully, it continues for a third season. Thanks for sticking with me this far.

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode are below. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:19 - That taxidermy is creepy af.

0:25 - Ok. But like, this is amazing. Look at Malcolm. He’s confused, annoyed, and a little pissed off but he doesn’t actually look scared. He just woke up in a strange place tied to a chair and the last thing he remembers is telling his father to run. He knows his serial killer father kidnapped him but he’s not scared because there’s a part of Malcolm that is so so desperate for Martin to love him. Malcolm is NOT okay. His reaction to being kidnapped by his serial killer father is evidence of that. This dude is not in a good mental place. I'm here for it. This is bad.

0:40 - Groggy, annoyed, and sassy Malcolm is adorable.

0:51 - This is a woman who thinks not telling the NYPD about that Capshaw phone call killed her son. She doesn’t know where Malcolm is right now or if he’s alive. BUT Jessica knows Martin has Malcolm and therefore - Malcolm is not safe. The guilt and fear is oozing from Jessica and I want to hug her. :( <3

1:13 - Again. Malcolm is in danger. Why doesn’t Ainsley seem to be worried? At all?!? This girl’s lack of empathy is genuinely concerning. If my brother was abducted by our abusive father I would be a wreck.

1:25 - “Don’t get cocky.” HA. What a great line. Although, it’s really sad to see how desperate Ainsley is for some attention from her mother. Although, I do love the contrast between this line and the line from 1x3: "You watch my reports?" "Not with the sound on". Jessica really is growing as a parent. I love that for her.

1:31 - “Capshaw is claiming Malcolm was Dad’s accomplice.” WHY ISN'T AINSLEY UPSET ABOUT THIS. SHE’S ACTING LIKE IT’S JUST SOME JUICY GOSSIP. BE ANGRY GIRL. BE SCARED. BE UPSET. THIS IS YOUR BROTHER. At least Jessica is pissed and scared about it.

1:46 - “Cruel eyes.” Has Capshaw ever looked at Malcolm? That boy has the sweetest eyes ever. They’re a gorgeous shade of blue, wide, and expressive. Never cruel. Often fearful. ALSO the fact that Capshaw looks at the window (where she knows Malcolm’s friends are standing) when she says this INFURIATES ME. I want this woman dead. She is the spawn of Satan and you can't change my mind.

1:50 - The way Dani looks at Gil when he says, “You buying this?” is wonderful. This girl is scandalized at the idea that Gil might be buying Capshaw’s story. This girl is team Malcolm and I love her for it. She's so offended at the idea that Gil - the man who's known Malcolm since he was 10 years old - might think Malcolm is a bad guy. <3 <3

1:52 - “Our boy’s crazy, but not that crazy.” <3 <3 <3 Every time JT calls Malcolm “our boy” or “our guy” my heart explodes. I love the evolution of their relationship so so so much. <3 Also JT is giving off major big brother vibes to Dani and Malcolm this episode and I LOVE IT. <3

1:54 - “Good. We all know she’s lying. Problem is we’re the only ones.” This whole scene. *CHEF’S KISS* Seriously, protective!Dani, protective!JT, and protective!Gil in the same scene?!? All going to bat for Malcolm? I’m in love. This is the found family content I’m here for. ALSO look at GIL. This man is so so pissed that someone is trying to paint his surrogate son as the bad guy. Gil is a good man but someone is threatening his family and that means he’s going to break his own rules. <3 I’m here for it. This is the kind of inner turmoil I subscribed to this show for.

2:02 - "Good morning sleepyhead." I have thoughts. 1) If Martin truly cared about Malcolm why didn't he restrain Malcolm on one of those twin beds (where he could actually sleep) instead of tying him to a chair?!?! 2) Look at how hard Martin is trying to act like Malcolm's friend (not even a good friend). He's not acting like Malcolm's dad. A dad or a good friend wouldn't leave a guy who just suffered from an embolism alone and tied to a chair. They'd take him to a hospital, obviously that was out of the question here. So for the sake of this comparison, a good friend/dad would have put Malcolm on the bed, gotten some warm blankets for him, made sure water was close by, and stayed with him until he woke up - to you know, MAKE SURE HE'S STILL BREATHING?!?! BUT not Martin, this dude just waltzes into the room and delivers a mildly condescending yet cheery rendition of "good morning sleepyhead" almost as though Malcolm's unconscious state was a burden to Martin. Even though Malcolm was unconscious because MARTIN DRUGGED HIM (also not good!Dad behaviour).

2:04 - "You drugged me?!?" This breaks my heart. After everything, Malcolm is still surprised (and rightfully annoyed) that his father drugged him. Malcolm knows that Martin is a bad man. He knows Martin has drugged him before. He knows he shouldn't trust Martin but after everything there's still a part of Malcolm desperate to believe that Martin loves him. PLUS one of the last memories Malcolm has before he woke up in this motel is of Martin saving his life. Malcolm was giving in to the "maybe Dad really does love me" mentality. It's heartbreaking and I want to give Malcolm a hug.

2:23 - I find this whole exchange so upsetting yet interesting. Both Malcolm and Martin are being openly hostile to each other. Usually, Malcolm is civil to Martin but right now, Martin is NOT chained to a wall and Malcolm is acting like an argumentative and whiny teenager (and rightfully so but still not a safe move). Martin is matching Malcolm’s mood. Martin is engaging in Malcolm’s frustration with an off-putting amount of cheer. I honestly believe Martin is just ecstatic that he’s been given an opportunity to ‘be a father’ again. There’s also a part of me that is completely convinced that Martin was already hatching his plan to have Malcolm kill him. Why would he do that? My answer: 1) Martin doesn’t want to go back to prison, 2) To finally get revenge on Malcolm for turning him in in 1998, 3) he’s a predatory psychopath and he saw an opportunity to screw with someone, 4) Martin is pissed off that Malcolm keeps trying to distance himself from Martin. Martin see’s it as betrayal and he wants to make Malcolm suffer.

2:25 - THIS. IS. AMAZING. The way Malcolm immediately panics and tries to escape Martin when the switchblade comes out is incredible. You can see Malcolm’s perspective shift. We actually see it flip back and forth all episode. Half the time, Malcolm is a little boy desperately trying to convince himself that Martin has changed and that Martin loves him. The other half of the time, Malcolm is a logical and educated adult who knows Martin is a dangerous killer who is trying to manipulate him. It’s such a compelling dichotomy.

2:44 - “We are the victims here Malcolm.” I absolutely believe that Martin believes this statement. HOWEVER, I also think he’s using the situation to his advantage in an attempt to sway Malcolm’s trust in him.

2:52 - “You’re in a pickle.” This infuriates me. Martin does NOT love or care about Malcolm. What Martin does love - is what Malcolm does for him. ie. Providing him a connection to the real world (visiting him in prison), giving him an outlet for his attention-seeking needs, giving him a plaything to manipulate. Martin views Malcolm as a pet NOT a person and NOT a son. That kills me.

2:55 - “I need to call Gil.” <3 <3 This is absolutely beautiful and terrifyingly stupid. Beautiful because Malcolm is in trouble and his knee-jerk reaction is “Gil can help. I trust Gil. Gil loves me. He’ll listen. He’ll help.” <3 <3 So precious. It’s scary though because it’s no secret that Martin views Gil as a threat to his family. This will make Martin more determined to manipulate Malcolm. Because again, Martin views everything as possessions. He doesn’t actually love Malcolm, Ainsley, and Jessica. He loves the idea of them and what he can do with them. He doesn’t actually care about them though. He only cares about their wellbeing to the extent of how it will affect him. (SIDE NOTE: I’m honestly crushed that we didn’t get a proper Gil+Martin face off during this finale.)

2:58 - “Gil’s great and all.” This man speaketh from his ass. He hates Gil. This is some damn fine manipulation. He’s interaction with Malcolm in a way he knows Malcolm will have a positive reaction. I respect it. It also makes my blood boil (out of love for Malcolm).

3:05 - “Who would you believe?” This hurts. Look at how absolutely crushed Malcolm looks. Malcolm knows no one will believe him. Why would they? He’s the son of a serial killer with well documented mental health issues and well documented issues with rule-following. It’s common knowledge that he’s an intense and weird dude. And it’s all Martin’s fault.

3:07 - “Can we talk?” I’m impressed. First, Martin complements the man he knows Malcolm respects more than anything. Then, he appeals to Malcolm’s insecurities and fears of being ‘The Surgeon’s son’. He does it all calmly, in a comforting tone of voice. This is manipulation at its finest.

3:17 - “You look ridiculous.” This is Malcolm fully aware that Martin just tried to manipulate him. It still hurt Malcolm because those fears about no one believing him are completely rational and a very logical outcome of the scenario but at least Malcolm is aware of Martin’s game.

3:30 - “I’m Clare.” .....Clare = Claremont. Did Martin do that subconsciously or is he aware? I can totally see him accidentally picking that name because after 20 years he’s begun to define himself as a part of the Claremont institution. He’s almost trying to maintain that link to the life he’s become accustom to.

3:35 - “Too insane.” Holy shit. Malcolm sassing Martin is 1) hilarious but 2) super scary because I just keep waiting for Martin to snap and hurt Malcolm for his “disrespectful and ungrateful behaviour”. Malcolm really has no fear in this scene and I’m scared for what that means for his mental state. It’s not good. That much I know.

3:45 - “I’m not your friend.” This broke my heart. Malcolm is so upset as he delivers this little outburst. He can see that Martin is trying to act like his friend instead of a loving father. It’s killing the little boy inside of Malcolm. It’s also frustrating for Malcolm because he wants so badly to do the right thing (turn Martin in) but he also just wants his dad to act like a real dad.

3:55 - The fear in Malcolm’s eyes when Martin brings the knife back out. <3 Gorgeous.

4:00 - The trepidation in Malcolm’s face as Martin cuts him loose. <3 ALSO, “I didn’t kill you. That’s gotta count for something.” why the hell should that count for something now? Martin tried to kill a 10 year old Malcolm. That should be the end. Any FATHER who tries to kill his 10 year old son (no matter what the kid may have done) is a garbage human and that child should never be told he has to forgive, trust, or have a relationship with his father. On some level Malcolm knows this BUT he’s also desperately trying to convince himself that Martin is a changed man.

4:12 - WTF Ainsley? This scene genuinely makes me believe Ainsley has been somehow involved in this whole prison break scheme. Or at least, she’s been in contact with Martin since the escape.

4:43 - “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Okay. Fine. Ainsley is finally showing a bit of fear here. But is it because of the Woodsman? Something tells me Martin has gotten into Ainsley’s head and Ainsely genuinely believes that Malcolm is safe with Martin. The Woodsman changes things though. Maybe the Woodsman was a variable Ainsley wasn’t expecting or didn’t plan with Martin.

5:00 - “Why are we in Vermont?” First of all - there’s something precious about the way this line was delivered. Secondly, why is Malcolm eating? Doesn’t most food make him sick (1x1)? This is a high stress situation - presumably he’d be too nauseous/stressed to eat right now.

5:15 - “That dream’s as dead as your 23 victims.” hahahaha ZING. This line actually hurts though. It’s not just Martin’s dream that’s dead. Malcolm’s is too. Presumably Malcolm has a fantasy somewhere in the back of his mind where he’s happily married with children. Hell, maybe his children visit their grandparents every weekend for Sunday brunch? But Malcolm probably doesn’t actually think he can have kids or a spouse because he’s terrified of what kind of a father and husband he’d be. That’s Martin’s fault. Martin has doomed Malcolm to avoid the deep, meaningful relationships in life that Malcolm clearly craves.

5:25 - “I’m absolutely right” The anger in Malcolm’s voice is incredible and concerning. On one hand, it’s great that he’s being honest with Martin. He’s making Martin work for his trust and he’s communicating that Martin ruined certain aspects of Malcolm’s life. On the other hand, this boy has no sense of self-preservation. He’s provoking a predatory psychopath. He’s almost begging Martin to hurt him. I’m terrified at what that means for Malcolm’s mental health.

5:35 - “Don’t you ever think it’s possible that I changed?” Look at Martin’s big stupid face. He doesn’t believe that he’s changed. He’s just trying to manipulate Malcolm. Martin doesn’t view Malcolm as a son. Just as a plaything.

5:55 - “You want to find a missing woman. That’s your brilliant plan?” It’s an excellent plan. It’s a plan Martin knows Malcolm won’t be able to deny. Martin has observed Malcolm’s obsession with understanding serial killers for 23 years. Martin has watched Malcolm torture himself to save the victims of serial killers. Martin knows this is the one plan that will (at least temporarily) stop Malcolm from turning him in. Malcolm’s need to help other people is stronger than his need to help himself. So again, Martin is a shitty father.

6:19 - “I worked the Woodsman case at the bureau for years.” Of course he did. $100 bucks says Martin knew that and he planned this out before his escape. Capshaw was an inconvenient hiccup in the plan but he was always going to kidnap Malcolm and try to manipulate Malcolm into becoming his partner in crime.

6:42 - “Someone who’s not going to call Gil Arroyo the first chance he gets.” Damn. Martin feels threatened by Gil’s relationship with Malcolm. Which is why an escaped!Martin and Gil showdown would’ve made my year.

6:46 - How convenient that Jeannie is from New York.

6:52 - “But we could save her. Together.” Ugh. This breaks my heart. You can see that Malcolm knows Martin is manipulating him. You can also see that this is an offer Malcolm can’t deny. Saving people and finding/understanding killers is what keeps Malcolm sane. PLUS he desperately wants to spend time with the ‘nice’ version of his dad. The one he remembers from 1998. Malcolm is eating out of the palm of Martin’s hand and it’s so so so upsetting.

7:01 - Why does Gary look so much like Deputy Crutchfield? It’s the moustache.

7:10 - “This is my partner. Cameron.” UGh. I’m going to throw up. 1) Malcolm’s startled expression melts my heart. This boy does not want to be Martin’s partner in any sense of the word. 2) Was Martin implying that Cameron is Clare’s sexual partner? The hand around Malcolm’s shoulders made it feel that way to me.

7:15 - Ugh. :( The way Malcolm looks at the hand on his shoulder. :( You can see how conflicted he feels. He likes the gentle, fatherly physical affection from Martin but he knows that Martin is a killer and this is an act. You can see that Malcolm knows this is all a hoax but you can also see how desperately Malcolm wants to believe in it.

7:45 - OMG. This is a man who hasn’t been in public for a very long time. This is not socially acceptable behaviour and Malcolm looks so embarrassed and scared (that someone will recognize the serial killer making loud noises of pleasure over his pancakes).

7:55 - I love that Malcolm isn’t eating. It aligns with Malcolm’s canonical eating problems. Kudos for the rare plot consistency.

8:13 - “I suppose I’m a little bisexual.” Ugh. Shut up Martin. You absolute moron. You’re not bisexual. You’re just a manipulative nutcase. It does make me wonder though, is this Martin’s way of trying to bond with Malcolm? Like maybe (whether it’s true or not) Martin thinks Malcolm might not be straight and he’s trying to have a father-son coming out of the closet moment? .....it sounds like a reach even in my head but here I am with this theory.

8:39 - The fact that Martin is such a verbal feminist throughout this show is so off putting to me. He’s a serial killer. He has no issues MURDERING people for FUN. Yet somehow it feels like I’m supposed to respect him more than the average man because he believes women are people with rights? Nah. It makes me hate him more because I don’t thinks he’s an actual feminist. I think he’s acting. He’s trying to appeal to what will make him seem more likeable. I think it’s a tactic he uses to soften Malcolm to his manipulation.

8:48 - “I worked this case for years. Almost lost my mind over it.”........okay so I want more details on this. Did the FBI take him off the case? Did he stop working the case because he was fired? Did Gil watch Malcolm become consumed by the case and beg him to take himself off the case?

8:52 - “I called every number at the FBI. You wanted nothing to do with me.” I hate Martin. He’s trying to blame Malcolm. He’s suggesting that more women could have been saved from the Woodsman if Malcolm hadn’t been ignoring Martin while he worked for the FBI. Martin is actually implying that the Woodsman could have been caught years ago if Malcolm wasn’t such a bad son.

8:57 - “...such anger issues. Still do.” I’m going to punch him. I hate Martin. He’s mentally torturing our mental-fragile baby and he’s having fun doing it. Malcolm looks absolutely wrecked and my heart is shattering. Someone needs to give Malcolm a hug. Yesterday.

8:59 - This moment has been giffed but damn is it worth pointing out again. The way Malcolm is self-soothing with his left hand while his right hand shakes is gorgeous. It really shows the depth of Malcolm’s inner conflict. I’m in love with this moment. Give Tom Payne an Emmy. Please.

9:13 - “There’s no time, my boy.” Every word that comes out of Martin’s mouth is calculated and manipulative. He has Malcolm exactly where he wants him and I hate it.

10:05 - I’m 90% sure Martin already knows who the Woodsman is. He’s just playing dumb so he can screw with Malcolm’s head for longer.

10:17 - YES MALCOLM. Stand up to Martin. I love it. It also makes me worry about Malcolm’s mental health but I think we can all agree that Malcolm’s been on a downward spiral for months. At this point, our boy is not going to start improving his mental state until he hits rock bottom.

10:19 - Martin actually looks shocked when Malcolm demands he earn his trust. Like it never occurred to him that Malcolm might be willing to rebuild the trust to begin with.

10:30 - This whole scene between Gil and Ruiz is genuinely one of my top scenes of this episode (maybe even of the season). “The media will crucify him” “You might as well issue a shoot on sight order” “This isn’t a joke” “He has his demons but he’s not his father.” “I’ll stake my career on it.” This is one of the purest Papa!Gil scenes of the season and Malcolm isn’t even present. I love how Gil is literally willing to put his entire career on the line for Malcolm. I love how Gil is fighting for Malcolm in a public setting. Look at how the whole precinct watches the exchange. Gil is putting himself on the line in front of an entire precinct of people who respect him out of love for Malcolm. <3 <3 <3

10:47 - “If he’s still alive.” If. Gil is terrified. Gil is losing hope. This isn’t like Watkins. Gil knows how desperately Malcolm wants Martin’s love and Gil knows that compromises Malcolm’s ability to profile his way out of a dangerous situation. Gil knows that Martin will kill Malcolm. Maybe not today, this week, or this year but it’s part of Martin’s plan. Gil knows that even if Martin doesn’t kill Malcolm - he’s capable of taking Malcolm away forever. Maybe by going on the run but maybe just because he tormented Malcolm to the point where Malcolm regresses to the scared 10-year old that Gil worked so hard to help. Gil knows Malcolm won’t survive that kind of trauma again. At least not mentally. Gil is terrified and I’m in awe.

11:05 - “C’mon kid. Where the hell are you?” Hear that? It’s my heart shattering into a million pieces because this is the type of father Malcolm deserves. The fatherly concern Gil has for Malcolm is everything to me.

11:20 - “Damn his daughter’s smoking.” hahahaha the irony.

11:24 - Why am I so shocked and delighted that Malcolm has an NYPD ID? <3 It makes perfect sense that he’d have one but now I have these headcanons of Gil taking Malcolm around to the accounting office, and the administration offices to get him set up at the NYPD and my heart can’t handle how cute it is.

12:12 - “You brought egg salad.” Ugh. These guys are so artificially in love and it grosses me out.

12:54 - See what I mean? Crutchfield looks like Gary from the motel. I can’t unsee it.

13:12 - Look another moment where Gil is CLEARLY thinking “this family I swear” hahahaha this man is so done with life today

13:44 - “I know that look Jess.” <3 Aww....they’re practically married. <3 Jokes aside, this is amazing. Jessica respects Gil and she stops her plans when she notices the look on Gil’s face. She knows he’s not trying to control her - he’s trying to protect her and her children. He loves them and he’s trying to lighten her load.

15:00 - “It’s your Lieutenant.” there’s a split second when you can see the hope, confusion, and fear clouding Malcolm’s face. For just a moment he thinks Gil is on the phone. Then the deputy says “Clare” and Malcolm’s expression transforms into one of annoyance and disgust.

15:20 - “I didn’t have a credit card.” BAHAHAHAHAHA can we all just agree that talking about porn with your adult children is gross?

15:27 - This. Is. The. Worst. Thing. That. Could. Happen. The headline says “Son of Martin Whitly” and then later we find out Malcolm BRIGHT is on a wanted poster. Malcolm’s privacy from the press has been compromised. His life has been compromised. Nothing will ever be the same. This is bad for Malcolm’s already fragile mental health. His flimsy sense of safety has been forcibly removed and the public is going to crucify him again. Just for being Martin Whitly’s son. People are going to Google him. They’re going to find out he went to Harvard, that he was fired from the FBI, that he has mental health problems (although, Ainsley already exposed that).

15:52 - Damn. It should be illegal for someone’s wanted picture to be that attractive (and I say that as an asexual).

16:00 - “You need a minute?” I love LOVE this interaction between JT and Dani. You can see that JT is a little unsure of how to talk to Dani because he loves her like a little sister and he knows she loves Bright. It’s adorable. <3 Big brother JT is my favourite JT.

16:17 - “I like the guy.” UGH. I’m going to go sob in the corner. <3 <3 This line is AMAZING for two (2) reasons. 1) JT is admitting that he likes Malcolm. The bromance is real and I’m here for it. 2) This is JT subtly telling Dani that he knows she likes Bright as more than a friend and it’s not a bad thing. Malcolm isn’t a bad person and he can understand why she’s attracted to the annoying little dude. <3

16:35 - Why is Ainsley working with Dani and JT? Does she actually want to find them? I still think she’s somehow involved in this.

16:48 - “Did you steal this truck?!?” Good boy Malcolm. Don’t trust him.

17:05 - Martin’s biggest mistake: he underestimated how devoted Malcolm is to his ‘mission’. He wasn’t able to manipulate and subdue Malcolm as quickly as he would’ve liked and now his plan is unravelling because Malcolm is snapping out of his ‘Martin might be good’ trance.

17:19 - “I’m calling Gil. I should’ve known.” <3 I have no words. Just joy.

17:45 - “I do not want my son getting killed because of it.” LIES. Martin tried to kill Malcolm because of it when Malcolm was 10 years old. Martin didn’t care when Malcolm was bullied, shunned, and literally locked in a closet because of Martin. Martin didn’t care that the weight of his crimes destroyed his son’s childhood and continued mental health. Martin. Doesn’t. Care. The problem? Malcolm so so desperately wants to believe that Martin cares about him. You can convince yourself of almost anything if you want to badly enough.

18:13 - Annnnnd Martin’s plan is back on. He’s lied his way back into Malcolm’s tentative good graces and the manipulation is still in full force.

18:18 - The parallel that Martin is going on a stakeout with Malcolm right now and the fact that Gil used to take Malcolm on stakeouts as a kid is overwhelming. Do you think Martin knew about those stakeouts? Is this Martin’s way of trying to prove to Malcolm that he’s a better father than Gil?

18:33 - I DO NOT LIKE THIS. I DO NOT LIKE THIS. I DO NOT LIKE THIS. Capshaw is crazy and I don’t like her alone with my queen Jessica. #stressed

18:37 - “Believe me, I understand.” Ugh. Someone (preferably Gil) hug Jessica. This woman has been repressing her emotions for too long. :(

18:56 - Ooooooooohhhhhh Capshaw just made the biggest mistake of her life. This woman is actively trying to convince the world that Malcolm is just like Martin Whitly and then she said as much to his mother’s FACE. I’m here for the lady fight. Say what you want, but vicious girl fights are so much more entertaining than dudes who just hit each other.

19:29 - Bitch. Jessica regularly mixes pills with alcohol. Research your victim, moron. This isn’t going to work.

19:56 - “You. Always you.” .....isn’t that what Malcolm said to Eve? Ew. ALSO the way Martin dismisses Malcolm’s admittance is very upsetting. If he wanted to prove that he’s a good father he should really pretend to care. At least a little.

20:25 - As far as Martin is concerned, this is a victory. His son trusts him enough to let him out of the car - unsupervised. Martin’s plan is working (as far as Martin knows anyways. Malcolm is still definitely conflicted).

20:43 - I love that Malcolm keeps calling for “Martin”. Not “Dad”. Not “Dr. Whitly” (that would be bad on account of the manhunt). Just “Martin”. This goes back to Malcolm not knowing who “Martin” is to him He’s still trying to figure it out. Hell, he only resorts to calling him “Clare” when he thinks it’s the only way Martin will get back in the truck.

21:15 - “What the hell is he doing?” EXCELLENT question. Seriously - did this moron not recognize the Surgeon and his son? There’s a literal manhunt for these two right now. It’s all over the news. It was playing on the precinct TV only a few hours ago. WHY DID CRUTCHFIELD NOT CALL ANYONE ABOUT THEIR IDENTITIES?!? Isn’t it protocol to call the NYPD about this or a hotline? I’m sure it said as much on the wanted flyers and the news.

22:05 - I’m honestly so stressed that Jessica is tipsy and drugged right now.

22:35 - “Back then I wasn’t a good judge of character. Now I can sniff them out a mile away.” UGH. This honestly gives me PTSD. My mom says the same thing. She married an abusive man and now she claims she’s self-aware and is an excellent judge of character (spoiler alert: she’s not). My mom is about as good at it as Jessica. I mean, anyone remember Endicott? Or Eve?

23:06 - “What was that Jessie?” OMG. I hate Capshaw more with each passing moment.

23:16. - GIL. OH THANK GOD. JESSICA IS GOING TO BE OKAY. EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY. JESSICA DIDN’T GO LONE RANGER ON THIS.

23:34 - Is that a picture of baby Malcolm on the mantle? <3 So cute. <3

24:10 - This bitch is going to jail for a looooonnnng time. Gil Arroyo and Jessica Whitly just heard her admit to torturing their son. She’s going to suffer. I’m happy about it.

24:28 - “Daddy. Daddy.” My heart is breaking. This is a real insecurity that Jessica has about Malcolm. She feels like she’s not enough for Malcolm. That’s why he keeps visiting Martin. That’s why Malcolm was so attached to Gil and Jackie as a kid (and now). Jessica feels inadequate as a mother. That probably contributes to how she emotionally neglects Ainsley. She’s afraid of trying and failing to be enough for both of her children. So she denies herself the possibility of failure by throwing the match.

25:07 - Jessica and Malcolm studying Krav Maga together. Headcannon accepted. My heart swells at the thought.

26:12 - Anyone else think it’s interesting that the picture of baby Ainsley was smashed over Jessica’s head. It just feels too convenient. It has to be some sort of hidden message. Does it mean that Ainsley’s the one who is going to destroy the family? Does it mean Ainsley’s working with Capshaw (or Martin)? It has to mean something. Right?!?

26:34 - “I meant for her sake.” I love Gil. He’s not threatened by the fact that Jessica is a badass. Hell, he thinks it hot. Weak men are intimidated by strong women. Gil’s a keeper.

26:46 - WHUMP. <3

27:15 - This wasn’t part of Martin’s plan but I do genuinely think Martin’s not nearly as scared as he’s acting.

27:38 - Why doesn’t JT introduce Ainsley? Because she’s not law enforcement and she’s not technically supposed to be there?

27:56 - Damn. Ainsley is desperate for attention from anyone. I bet you that’s why she became a reporter. People have to listen to you when your face is on their TV reporting the news.

29:41 - JT is triggered. :( This is PTSD. The last time a gun was pointed at him it was extremely traumatic “I’m a father. I’m a good man and I am not a threat to you.” :( Someone hug him.

29:57 - “But she is.” <3 DAMN. Badass!Dani for the win. <3

30:34 - “Predatory psychopath married an emotionally compromised enabler.” Is this a comment on Jessica and Martin’s marriage? Jessica didn’t consciously enable Martin but her rich lifestyle and the things she was willing to overlook to maintain appearances definitely gave Martin more leeway than he should have had.

30:48 - “You haven’t been in my league for decades.” Yep. Now Martin wants to kill Don. He didn’t need Malcolm to beg him to hurt Don. Martin was already chomping at the bit.

32:00 - “NO.” Malcolm’s not his father. Even now he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. He tries to protect everyone from physical harm. Even serial killers. That’s a good man.

32:30 - I hated this speech from Ainsley. It felt....artificial? I just can’t see Ainsley actually believing that her Mother is light, kind, and good when she clearly resents her Mother for paying so much attention to Malcolm and neglecting her. This whole speech just felt really out of character to me. It felt like Ainsley was pulling a Malcolm - saying whatever she needed to get the suspect to confess to the truth.

33:43 - “I can’t. Not anymore.” Bullshit. Martin clearly wants to hurt this guy. He just refuses to do it until Malcolm begs. Also, it feels like the show is trying to suggest that this is Malcolm giving into the ‘darkness’ that Ainsley was referring to. I disagree. This is typical Malcolm - consumed by the need to save a victim and solve the case. This is the guy who chopped off a guy’s hand to save his life, the guy who tried to infiltrate a cult to save Andi, the guy who tried climbed out of an elevator shaft to arrest a serial killer. Malcolm just doesn’t care about himself and his mental health isn’t doing so great. That doesn’t mean he’s becoming a killer. He’s not ‘going dark’.

34:40 - “Please. I’m asking as your son.” This wrecked me. 1) Malcolm looks so utterly destroyed here. Anguish is all over his face. You can see him grasping at straws because he’s so desperate to save Jeannie. He’s willing to compromise the idea that his Dad may have changed. Malcolm knows Martin hasn’t changed but asking him to do this will make it real and kill Malcolm’s desperate fantasy of a bio-dad who loves him. 2) Martin is a piece of shit. You can see how utterly delighted he is when Malcolm begs and refers to himself as Martin’s son. Martin views Malcolm as a possession and it delights him to hear Malcolm confirm that possession (”I’m asking as you son.”)

35:00 - Okay. His hand isn’t shaking but look at him. You can’t tell me he’s enjoying this. He looks terrified, guilty, nauseous and I don’t think it’s because he’s suddenly realizing that he and Martin are the same. I think it’s because he just compromised his moral code to save a total stranger. He somehow found it in himself to favour a Jeannie over Don. Yes - Don is a serial killer. Yes - Jeannie is his victim. So, yeah - picking Jeannie over Don is logical but does that make it right? That’s what Malcolm is struggling with. That AND the fact that he just asked his Dad to hurt someone - the screaming is probably bringing back suppressed childhood PTSD from that camping trip in the woods.

35:13 - Another crazy theory for why Malcolm’s hand isn’t shaking. Have you ever been so so so scared/stressed/anxious that you felt nothing? Seriously - it’s like your brain just shuts down everything but life support and your body goes on autopilot. I honestly think that could be happening to Malcolm as a way to cope with the stress.

35:20 - This is Martin pretending to be tormented and I HATE HIM FOR IT. He’s playing with our broken boy and I despise him for it. Hasn’t Malcolm suffered enough?!?!

36:04 - Something tells me that Don’s testimony will be vital to clearing Malcolm’s name next season (yes, I’m in complete denial that this show is cancelled).

37:03 - This hurts. Martin is comforting Jeannie and it’s bringing back childhood memories for Malcolm. Memories of a Dad who used to read him bedtime stories and tuck him into bed at night. Memories that are tainted with the knowledge that Martin is a serial killer. Look at how sad Malcolm is. He’s fully accepting that Martin hasn’t changed and that he never will. He’s letting go of the desperate hope that Martin might love him the way he remembers as a child. He’s remembering that the love he experienced as a child was all a hoax on Martin’s part to begin with.

37:07 - WHEN DID MALCOLM GET A PHONE??!?! WTF.

37:14 - “The bad man is gone now.” Except he’s not. He’s always been here. He didn’t change. He just tried to be cleverer than his son. It failed.

37:52 - Do you know what would have made this scene even more powerful? A flashback to the phone call baby Malcolm made to 911 in 1998.

38:08 - NOW Martin is Dr.Whitly because Malcolm has fully accepted that Martin = The Surgeon = Dr. Whitly. They’re all the same and they all suck.

38:33 - “Maybe I need to work on that.” <3 <3 Yes, get sober sweetheart. Your dependance on alcohol and pills is not healthy.

38:45 - This Gillica moment will live forever in my heart. I swear I’ve never shipped to people so hard while fully wanting them to be my parents.

38:51 - OMG. Of fucking course it’s Edrisa. <3 hahahahaha

39:29 - The fact that Malcolm gave Jeannie his jacket is so cute to me. Just more proof that Malcolm’s a good guy.

39:57 - Looks like the Claremont cardio program is lacking. (I’m so mean).

40:08 - I love this whole exchange between Martin and Malcolm. 1) I fully believe that Martin is genuinely upset that Malcolm turned him in (the dude doesn’t want to go back to prison - fair enough). 2) Malcolm just looks so broken as he listens to his father rant. You can see how bad Malcolm feels for turning his own father over to the cops. Again. The guilt is consuming Malcolm. Very bad for his flimsy mental health.

40:22 - “You made me become him again.” Okay. Stay in your lane Martin. Let’s not victim blame here. You’re a monster. You’ve been manipulating Malcolm all day and you’re still at it. You wanted to hurt Don but you want to hurt Malcolm more.

41:11 - “This world isn’t for you.” My heart is shattering. You can hear the pain in Malcolm’s voice. This isn’t a conversation anyone should have to have with a parents. Especially not when you’re already wracked with guilt and mental health issues that you’re not coping with.

41:20 - “Dad. Listen to me. I’m trying to save you.” THIS. THIS is the show. For two years we’ve watched Malcolm try to empathize and understand killers because he’s desperate to save his father and alleviate his guilt for turning Martin in.

42:00 - “I was a good father. But you, you were never a good son.” ...............this is bad. Shit. This. Is. Bad. This is going to torment Malcolm for the rest of his life. He is going to constantly question “should I have been nicer to Ainsley? Should I have been more obedient? Should I have shown more of an interest in medicine? Would that have stopped that from killing? Did he kill because I wasn’t a good enough son?” Logically Malcolm will know none of that is true but it won’t matter because pain isn’t always logical.

42:26 - 1) Damn. This family is stabby. 2) holy shit holy shit holy shit. 3) I’m shook. I fully expected it but I’m still shook. It was self defence but that won’t matter. Sure, there’s a 90% chance that Malcolm won’t suffer legally for this but there’s a 100% chance this is going to ruin Malcolm’s life. The guilt is going to swallow him whole. His mental health is going. to reach an all time low. The media will crucify him. No one will look at him the same. He won’t be able to go anywhere without people making assumptions about him. He’s going to be transported back to 1998 - this time with more trauma. It’s not going to be good (and I’m ecstatic at the thought of it because I’m an emotional whump whore).

42:40 - His hand’s not shaking. I honestly think it’s because he’s in shock because Malcolm still looks like hell. He’s dissociating. If this triggers a mute!Malcolm episode I’m going to be the most excited person in the world.

42:46 - “I was right. We’re the same.” This was Martin’s master plan. He knew once he escaped Claremont there was no going back. He didn’t want to go back to prison so he found a way to get himself killed (I’m assuming this kills Martin because that’s a lot of blood). No only did he plan to either 1) be on the run forever or 2) die trying - he made sure that he could torment Malcolm as much as possible along the way. This sentence is going to destroy Malcolm. That sentence has been his greatest fear for 23 years. Now he thinks it’s true. It doesn’t matter that he stabbed out of self-defence. Fear isn’t logical. This is a big problem.

43:12 - “Bright? What did you do?!?” ..................It’s been 3 days and I still can’t handle this sentence. You can see the shock on Dani’s face and the fear in Malcolm’s eyes. He looks like a cornered animal. He thinks she’s going to arrest him - he knows she has to. He thinks he just ruined his chances at a happy ending with Dani. He’s realizing all at once just how bad his life is about to get. AND DANI - she doesn’t believe he’s a killer but that doesn’t mean she’s not scared for him. The dude looks like he’s in the middle of a mental breakdown plus the legal issues - it’s not going to be a good day.

I CAN’T BELIEVE THE SEASON ENDED LIKE THIS. I HATE IT. I LOVE IT. I’M CONFLICTED. I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS. I WANT CLOSURE AND THIS JUST GAVE ME MORE QUESTIONS. UGH. THANK GOD FOR AO3.

I sincerely hope another network picks us up for a third season - I’ll be back if they do. If not - thanks for hanging out with me. I’ve had fun and this show will always have home in my heart.

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lesdemonium · 4 years

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romtober day 2: stuck together

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2625 Summary: After a string of over-blown arguments leads to Geralt and Jaskier not talking to each other, Yennefer and Ciri take drastic measures to force them to communicate.

read on ao3

“No. Absolutely not.”

The door had barely swung open before the words were out of Jaskier’s mouth. Geralt hadn’t even realized Jaskier was there until he spoke, but he looked up just in time to see the pinched expression on Jaskier’s face. Geralt shot a glare Yennefer’s way, but she didn’t even bother to look at him. The glare was much more effective when turned to Ciri, even if Geralt did feel a bit guilty when her expression quickly twisted into shame.

Despite Jaskier’s protest, though, he walked into the apartment with Ciri, and even allowed her to close the door behind them.

“If you wanted to talk to me, you could have just picked up a phone like a normal person and asked, Geralt,” Jaskier huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Geralt mirrored Jaskier’s posture, though he turned to face the wall instead of his friend. His extremely infuriating friend. “I don’t. I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“You two are ridiculous. Is this actually the example you want to set for Ciri?” Yennefer scolded. “Two grown ass men can’t sort out their problems and just talk to each other when they have a fight?”

“When has Geralt ever been able to talk to anyone?” Jaskier fired back. Geralt looked up to see him glaring at Yennefer, though he did also cut a withering glance to Geralt. “I tried to talk to him after the initial fight, but he refused. At least, until he called me a ‘talentless hack’ and a ‘waste of precious time and energy’!”

“I did not call you either of those things,” Geralt snapped, standing up.

He stepped closer to Jaskier, now suddenly very interested in reigniting the fight that had been going on for weeks now. Fighting with Jaskier was never enjoyable. They were both far too proud, far too stubborn, far too passionate. They often got on like a house on fire, which unfortunately had a tendency of destroying everything in its wake. Lately, though, even Geralt had to admit they had been worse. Shorter with each other, prone to more dramatic outbursts, and having knock out fights starting over nothing that dragged on for entirely too long. Even Geralt didn’t know what was wrong with them.

Geralt had a feeling that on his end, at least, it had something to do with what he wasn’t saying to Jaskier. But Jaskier had been just as antagonistic as Geralt lately, so surely the blame couldn't fall squarely on Geralt’s shoulders.

“You might as well have!” Jaskier said, and he took a step closer, too. They were practically chest to chest, in what Yennefer had often called a display of extremely unhealthy masculinity. “You all but implied that your life would be better without me in it!”

“I said it would be easier if you could solve your own damn problems for once, but trust you to twist my words until they’re unrecognizable. Do you ever actually listen to what I tell you?”

Jaskier, who was already prone to making grand gestures and talking with his hands, flapped his hands up and narrowly missed Geralt’s face. Geralt, reacting to try to avoid being hit, snatched both of Jaskier’s wrists in midair. Jaskier let out an indignant noise as he tried to pull his hands away, but Geralt did not let go.

A moment later, he wished he had, when Ciri took advantage of their situation to slap a pair of handcuffs on their wrists, cuffing Geralt and Jaskier together.

This made them freeze, and Jaskier’s face was almost comically bewildered as his eyes went wide and he turned to Ciri. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally managed a squeaky, “What in the world are you doing?”

“I told you I’d find an opportunity!” Ciri said proudly to Yennefer. Yennefer appeared to be trying very hard not to burst out laughing.

“Ciri, uncuff us,” Geralt insisted, fixing her with a stern look.

“No.” Her arms crossed and she fixed him with a look so unimpressed that for a moment Geralt thought he was looking into a mirror. What a scary thought that was. “You and Jaskier haven’t been listening to each other. All you do is blow up and yell and say hurtful things and storm off. I won’t be unlocking you two until you work this out.”

“Now, that doesn’t really seem necessary. We’ll be fine, Ciri, we always are,” Jaskier said. He tried to gesture with his hands, now that Geralt had dropped his wrists, but it took just one tug of their joined arms and a dirty look from Geralt for Jaskier to look suitably scolded and put his arm down. “Please let us out.”

“I don’t think you will be fine,” Yennefer said. She moved to stand behind Ciri and placed her hands on Ciri’s shoulders. The look she settled on both Jaskier and Geralt with was chiding, and Geralt wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt like a misbehaving child, but they were certainly treating him like one. “This has gone on long enough. It’s time for you two to grow up and talk to each other. You aren’t a far step from saying or doing something you’ll never come back from, and even if you don’t completely sabotage yourselves, your behavior has been exhausting to deal with.”

She patted Ciri’s shoulders, then strode toward the door. “Ciri and I will be going to a movie,” Yennefer said, pulling the door open and ushering Ciri through it. “You will have this fixed by the time we return, or you will be sleeping in those.”

The door closed and for a long moment, both men were silent, staring dumbfounded at where Yennefer had been standing.

“This is all your fault, you know.” Of course Jaskier would be the one to break the silence.

“How do you figure that?” Geralt scoffed.

“Because you’re the one that refuses to communicate with me. Grunts and hums don’t tell me shit, Geralt, and you have a hair-trigger temper!” Jaskier pointed a finger accusingly at Geralt. Geralt imagined smacking it away, but refrained.

“I have a hair-trigger temper? You went from completely calm to yelling at me last week when I suggested you used a word wrong in that song you were writing!”

“Well you were wrong and I wasn’t asking for criticism! You can’t interrupt my process with unsolicited advice while I’m still on the first draft of the damned thing!” Jaskier swung his hands up, bringing Geralt’s arm with him, and didn’t even look the least bit apologetic about it, despite Geralt’s pointed glare. Geralt tugged his own arm back harshly. “If you could stop being such an insufferable know-it-all for ten seconds and instead talk about what’s actually bothering you, maybe we would be able to work some of this out before we get handcuffed together!”

“Well maybe,” Geralt grumbled back, “If you would stop storming off the moment we have a disagreement, we could actually resolve some of them! But instead you get all huffy and run off and every new fight just rolls off the last one. Maybe they decided on handcuffs to stop you.”

“Well what do you propose we do about this now?” Jaskier asked, crossing his arms. Geralt grunted and pulled his own arm away, and Jaskier huffed in return as his arms were uncrossed. “Stop moving my arm about like I’m a puppet!”

“Stop making me,” Geralt answered. “I propose we find a way out of these handcuffs.”

Ten minutes later found Geralt storming around the apartment looking for something, anything, that would break through the handcuffs. Unfortunately, they were real, rather than cheap plastic or metal, and it seemed as if Yennefer or Ciri had the keys. What they were doing with real, sturdy handcuffs, he didn’t want to know, but he was sure that nothing short of bolt cutters would get them free. Jaskier trailed along behind as Geralt stomped around, offering extremely unhelpful and often pessimistic comments about the unlikelihood of Geralt’s newest plan working.

“At least I’m doing something, Jaskier,” Geralt finally exploded after he had heard enough of Jaskier’s grousing. “Can you do something helpful, instead of just bitching about everything under the sun? Or just shut the hell up?”

Jaskier harrumphed, but at least fell silent. Now, the only sound in the apartment was Geralt throwing open cabinets and drawers and grunting his frustration, while Jaskier silently followed along. Somehow, this was worse.

Geralt slammed a final drawer open with what he honestly had to call a growl, before scrubbing his free hand down his face. The keys were not here, and there was nothing that was going to free them, short of dislocating his own thumb and potentially scraping off half his skin. As much as Geralt did not want to be trapped with Jaskier for at least another hour and a half, he had to admit that damaging his hand was a bit of an overreaction.

“So, you’re done, then?” Jaskier asked, and Geralt could have thrown something at him. “Great, can we go sit down, then?”

They went back to the couch and they both fell heavily onto it. They sat at opposite ends, their arms stretched as far as they could while still being somewhat comfortable, and Geralt rested his chin in his hand, propped up on the arm rest.

“Gods, is being stuck with me for two hours really that terrible?” Jaskier asked after a long moment.

Jaskier let out a laugh that Geralt was sure was supposed to convey levity, but just made Jaskier sound nervous. Hurt, even. Geralt turned his head to look at Jaskier, who was staring down at the hand in his lap, an expression of such schooled stoicism on his face that Geralt almost wanted to know what Jaskier would have looked like if Geralt wasn’t staring.

“Before we could hang out for hours before you told me to shut up. Now it’s like the moment I open my mouth, you wish I was gone.” He turned, resting his own elbow on the armrest, chin in hand and faced as far from Geralt as he could go with his binding. “I just wish I knew what went wrong. I can’t just… turn it off. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Geralt knew it was his turn to break it, that Jaskier had already taken his turn in trying to bridge the gap, but it was hard to form the words. There was so much he wanted to say in response to Jaskier’s question and following statement, but he wasn’t sure if he could. Apparently, he had taken too long, though, because beside him Jaskier let out a sigh.

“Just--forget it. It doesn’t matter. We’ll just… sit here in uncomfortable silence until they get back, and then I'll get out of your hair.”

“It’s not,” Geralt finally said.

“It’s--what?” Jaskier asked. His head began to turn, then abruptly stopped as his shoulders tensed. “What’s not? Not what?”

“Being stuck with you for two hours,” Geralt answered. “It’s not terrible.”

Jaskier snorted and shook his head just slightly. “Sure could have fooled me.”

“I don’t know how to talk to you anymore. I… have a lot of things I want to say. All at once. So I don’t say any of them.” Geralt’s voice was soft now. He felt stupid, talking like this. He wasn’t even making any sense. Jaskier would just be confused, and would want Geralt to explain further, but Geralt wasn’t sure he knew how to.

“Anymore? Nothing changed. I don’t understand why you would suddenly lose the ability to talk to me. And this has been going on for a while. Since… since…”

“Since the Countess.”

Jaskier stopped for a moment, then finally turned to face Geralt, his eyebrows furrowed. “Since the Countess,” he agreed. “But, Geralt--What does she have to do with anything? We broke up for good months ago.”

Geralt shrugged and tried to look away, but Jaskier tugged on their bound wrists insistently until Geralt’s irritation built enough for him to scowl back at Jaskier. Jaskier looked unamused--his lips were pursed as he raised his eyebrows and dipped his chin meaningfully at Geralt.

“We’re finally getting somewhere here. You can’t close off on me now,” Jaskier said, sounding exasperated.

“Things were. You were serious, with her. I thought that was it for you.” Geralt’s face grew hot as he spoke, and he had to look away again. Straight ahead, as if the wall was the most interesting thing he had seen for a long time.

Jaskier did not seem to care that Geralt was embarrassed. He turned more to face Geralt head on, and inched closer until his knee was just barely avoiding touching Geralt’s thigh. “Why would that mean you’re not able to talk to me? Because I was in a relationship? That’s kind of shit, Geralt. You and Yennefer were pretty serious for a while, and nothing changed between us. Besides, Virginia and I broke up.”

Fucking Jaskier. He wanted specifics, and Geralt didn’t know if he could give him that. Honesty about his feelings were not something Geralt was particularly skilled at.

“I… didn’t like you two together.”

“I’m really not sure, one, why you wouldn’t have voiced your concerns earlier, or two, how that was any of your business. But. That doesn’t exactly matter, considering we broke up. Why didn’t things go back to normal, then?” Jaskier’s voice was so serious, so confused, as if he was trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle. Geralt didn’t understand how he wasn’t getting this. Jaskier was supposed to understand implicit, nebulous ideas.

“Because I had already realized why I didn’t like you two together. And why I didn’t like any of the people you rebounded with after.”

“And why was that?” Jaskier asked. Geralt scowled, and Jaskier snorted. “Geralt, I know you think you’re bearing your soul to me right now, but all I’m getting is you talking around something. Careful, if you don’t throw me more of a bone, I’m going to jump to the conclusion that you were jealous of Virginia or the other people I’ve hooked up with since.”

Geralt didn’t answer, just stared up at the ceiling until he heard Jaskier gasp beside him. Jaskier scooted closer.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, insistently. Geralt grunted. “Geralt, look at me.” Geralt did, and immediately clammed up at just how earnest and awed Jaskier looked. “Geralt, do you want to go out with me?”

The question was met with a scowl and a groan, and Geralt looked away again, only for Jaskier to place a hand on Geralt’s upper arm.

“No, I’m sorry, I was--I wasn’t clarifying, I was asking. Would you go on a date with me? Like. As soon as possible. Immediately.” Now, his soft, breathy laugh sounded a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t--I didn’t know this was on the table. If I had, I would have asked you out a lot sooner, we could’ve worked out whatever aggression in a much more fun way, if you catch my meaning--”

“Yes, Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted, just to get him to shut up. “I want to go on a date. Just stop.”

Jaskier laughed and nodded, scooting forward again until he was practically hanging off Geralt’s arm. Geralt met his eyes again, faced with a wicked grin.

“We could get a head start, if you wanted. On date-like activities,” Jaskier suggested.

When Yennefer and Ciri returned almost two hours later, Yennefer threw the keys at them and told them to get a room, only to usher Ciri back out the door groaning something about Men. Geralt and Jaskier barely noticed.

#geraskier #geraskier fanfic #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier au #geraskier modern au #my writing #octoberfest #me: i won't be posting before work anymore #me literally the next day: posts before work #but we are celebrating #romtober

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sword-dad-fukuzawa · 4 years

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2) that speed to catch Pushkin. Then there’s his healing factor. His leg regenerated after Akutagawa cut it off, but his healing didn’t kick in after the Guild’s first attack. He needed Yosano’s treatment. Plus, while his wounds healed automatically during his fight with Akutagawa on the boat, the burns inflicted on him by the orphanage lowlifes hadn’t back then. Atsushi got

Beast Beneath the Moonlight: Healing

...scars instead. I had asked 1-2 other people about it, and they replied that it had to do with Atsushi’s fear of his own power and some other thematic elements I can’t quite recall (it was a long time ago), but I wonder if there’s a more technical explanation for it. For example, are there specific circumstances under which Atsushi’s tiger powers can be triggered to their fullest potential? Are his powers psychologically linked? As in, they’re triggered by a strong urge to survive or save others? After all, he wanted to save Junichiro and Naomi from Akutagawa, the train passengers and Kyouka from the bomb threat, and Kyouka from Akutagawa. But if that’s true, then why didn’t his full power activate when Koyo tried to take Kyouka back to the Port Mafia and the Guild hurt Kenji and Kunikida? These are questions that have been bothering me for a long time. I love your detailed analyses! Your blog is just what I’ve been looking for!

Alright, this was the much, much more difficult part to answer. Atsushi’s healing factor infuriates me because it’s so damn inconsistent. It tends to break whenever it’s convenient for plot reasons, which is shitty writing practice and makes me mad, thematic elements be damned!

But!! Challenge accepted, Asagiri-sensei and lovely anon! Tonight, we’re going to attempt to break down BBtM as an ability rather than a fighting style, and it’s going to break my brain. *awkward finger guns*

Our favorite sushi-boi seems to have three different forms. Regular Atsushi is...regular Atsushi. Kinda skinny, breaks easily. He reverts to this form when he’s tired or severely injured. Then there’s Weretiger Atsushi, who has tiger-augmented forearms and calves. He’s inhumanly fast and strong, and he has claws. Lastly, there’s full-on Tiger Atsushi, who’s...a tiger. I’d argue Tiger Atsushi is slower than Weretiger Atsushi, considering Dazai can dodge him in the first episode sans ability-aided augmentation and without breaking a sweat.

The inconsistency is with, specifically, his healing factor. As you mention, it doesn’t consistently kick in. I’ve rewritten my answer several times, and I think I’ve figured it out. I classify BBtM as a Transformation ability that can be activated at will. It’s not a passive ability, which means it requires a conscious choice on the part of the ability user to activate.

As his healing factor is part of his ability, it requires a conscious choice for him to heal himself--the key word here being “conscious”. If Atsushi gets knocked out, he can’t regenerate or heal. This is what I’m going to assume happened in the Guild’s first attack, though this is only speculation considering we aren’t shown the contents of the fight.

And, as it is for all abilities, his healing takes energy. Abilities are finite--Rashoumon puts a strain on Aku’s body so he cannot keep Demon Armor indefinitely, and Chuuya can’t manipulate the gravity of the entire world. This applies to Atsushi, because he reverts to Regular Atsushi. If BBtM didn’t take energy, he would have stayed in Weretiger form during the entirety of the Fitz fight. However, he turns back several times to take a break.

So, now the assumption I’m working off of is that Atsushi needs to fulfill three things to activate his healing factor: be conscious, not be tired, and be able to make the choice. Orphanage Atsushi didn’t know about BBtM. He therefore wouldn’t have been able to heal his burns by himself, because he doesn’t fulfill the third condition.

Guild-fight Atsushi, presumably, was beaten into unconsciousness. We do see his slumped body on the ground, out cold. He doesn’t fulfill the first condition and so his healing factor cannot activate.

Ah, but one thing seems to break my theory! When Atsushi’s leg is torn off, he regenerates even though he’s shown to pass out from the pain. Why did BBtM kick in even though it didn’t fulfill all three conditions?

We’ve only been, so far, talking about Weretiger Atsushi’s healing factor. When he turns into Tiger Atsushi, he’s using his power to its full extent. Perhaps not the most effectively, but certainly fully, considering his ability is explicitly to turn into a tiger. In this form, he’s always using BBtM. So the healing factor kicks in automatically. Notice that his leg only regenerates after he turns into Tiger Atsushi.

On a slightly different tack, Fukuzawa’s All Men Are Equal explicitly suppresses an ability enough for it to be controlled. It doesn’t weaken the ability, it pushes it down. This manifests as Weretiger Atsushi. In this form, his capabilities are then suppressed somewhat. This is why Weretiger Atsushi’s healing factor requires conscious activation, and Tiger Atsushi’s doesn’t.

We also see that Atsushi seems to get stronger when shit hits the fan. He’s about to die. His friends are about to die. Everyone in Yokohama is about to die. I honestly chalk this up to the adrenaline. Regular humans, in high-stress situations, exhibit capabilities past their normal. They can lift cars, jump huge distances, win an impossible fight. I don’t think Atsushi needs to be in high-stress situations to reach his full potential, but it certainly helps because of the aforementioned adrenaline and desperation.

Of course, I could be completely wrong since Asagiri-sensei is, as always, playing 3d chess. And...I’m trash at regular chess. Hopefully I answered your questions! Do let me know if I missed something :)

#Aurie Explains #beast beneath the moonlight #ask #atsushi nakajima #ability analysis #gift #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #manga #anime #armed detective agency #yukichi fukuzawa #all men are equal #the guild

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percywinchester27 · 3 years

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@caughtaghostsomehow I’m just going to put it all underneath the keep reading, picking things from all of those reblogs cause why not!

Part 27:

I understand why Max trusts Sam so much... Even after he initially failed him, he still kept his promise later on and he's been keeping it since.

The scene when Sam finds Max in the cell... Oh man.. I was angry at first, just like Sam but then my heart broke for this little boy. Sam and him needed each other. I think they may be soulmates.. The universe destined them to help each other out.

Yep. The reason why Sam is just so insanely careful about Max is because he how what it feels like to almost lose him. And the prison scene changed a lot since it was conceived. But I knew I wanted Max to start out as a physical kid and then grow out of it. He and Sam really were destined.

I'm so glad we got to see how Jody found out about the whole situation and I just love her more after finding out that she helped with the adoption (by the way, I love how thorough your research is 🧡).

I knew Dean would never give up on his brother but it just made me really emotional when he kept calling and Sam finally picked up and the first words out of Dean's mouth were "are you alright?". It got to me for some reason...

I thought it was logical to go to her for a lot of reasons- cause she is a legal writings professor, a close friend AND has experience with adoption as a single parent in the very same state.

Awww... all the Dean parts get me. ALL of them. Especially here because they are so far and in-between in this story.

But Sam wanted his wife to trust him the same way. Unconditionally. He wanted her to trust him with fixing their life, dealing with their loss and grief and wanted her to trust him with rebuilding their life from before the accident.

This is you using my braincells by the way. Cause later on, someone points this EXACT same thing to the reader

I know I've said this before but it just keeps coming back to this in my head, she knew things couldn't be fixed because as much as she probably trusted Sam with her life, she understands that some things just aren't in anyone's control... And Sam wanted her to believe he could mend the wounds all by himself... It's sad and frustrating but I can't wait for them to have this conversation

I know you’ve read part 30 already and you know they touch on this very very briefly but they don’t really resolve this. It gets addressed specifically eventually. His ‘i could fix us’ vs. her ‘I knew you couldn’t.’ Does such for them though.

Chapter 28

Why do I have a bad feeling about that party?

Because. Same. Braincells. Lol.

I really wanted for someone to say that and Sam certainly needed to hear it and I'm so glad it was Chase who opened his eyes about this. He's absolutely right too, let the woman speak for her damn self instead of assuming how she feels.

Chase was me! Yelling at all these characters for not fucking listening to me haha... remember how I told you that people were suspicious of Chase? Yeah, after this chapter, everyone’s kinda adopted him.

My emotions have been all over the place lately anyway but reading how Sam needed to compose himself before speaking about his son's death... I swear I don't have tears in my eyes while typing this- that was hard to read.

I'm glad Max knows... I don't know how much of it he understands but he's a clever boy, I'm sure he has at least a little bit better of an idea why this situation is so delicate.

Awww I’m so sorry I made you cry :/ But, well... Sam doesn’t grieve his son’s death the way the reader does. He’s always been more stoic. Besides, he had to deal with two griefs back then not just one... but I am sure it still hurts too much.

I’ve left it to everyone’s imagination how much Max understands. He knows the concept of death for sure.... but his birth father had orgies at his house. We can all only hope that Max is completely shielded from that since he was using to hiding in closets when there were strangers in the house.

I was surprised by his question too but Sam's response was so... Loving. My heart can't take this.. He's such a great father...

Yep. I mean how else could he have reassured Max? His no lying policy is a great way to raise a child tbh. My sister does that with my nephew. That’s how I know.

Chapter 29

I really like Maddie, she's a genuinely sweet person, I love how helpful she tries to be and that she honestly wants her friend to be happy. I wonder what exactly went wrong during that party for her to look so dejected...

Maddie is nice. I was hellbent on making all of Sam’s canon Exes nice in this series. Cause I’ve had enough of reading the evil ex and current gf pitted against each other trope (Though I’ve never written it myself. Maybe I should and see for myself why it is so alluring lol.) I don’t know, maybe it was little a double prank thingy? Throw the reader in the water and be as mean to Madison as you can?

I really fucking hope that Brad gets what he deserves and that is to be kicked in the balls. Ever fucking heard the word boundary? Consent? I hate people like him with a burning passion and that whole situation infuriated and scared me in equal measure.

Yeah. That asshole needs to go down! His endgame has changed more than anyone elses in the story lol.

The fact that all of it came back to her the instant she hit the water made me sob. She wanted to protect her baby but there was no one there... I just- oh fuck.

Kay that part was HARD to write. All of it. Poor reader!

Was Sam the one to pull her out? If so then I don't even want to think about what would happen if he wasn't there, if they haven't made plans...

The way she started crying for their baby when she found her breath again made me cry even more... I don't know why I feel such a strong connection to this story and characters but I don't want them to ever feel pain like that again. It's heartbreaking 💔

Yeah that was Sam... I mean the pool was visible and all that. I mean of course you know. You read the next chapter. Why am I being a dumbass :/

Something had to trigger her trauma. It wasn’t going to come out on its own and And Sam loves her too much to force her to grieve. He barely held it together when she did grieve so well...

PS.: I'm really sorry you experienced drowning, it's a horrible thing to go through. I don't do pools- or really, any body of water, either. There's just something about the idea of drowning that unsettles me more than I can express.

Yeahh... God bless that lifeguard. Seriously. He’s the only one who noticed that I wasn’t coming up. It was night time and the pool was pretty dark so. I am so sorry that you don’t like pools, either. It’s terrifying.

Chapter 30

Firstly, Ria, you’re TOO GOOD to me, seriously! The fact that I could have you speechless is about the biggest complement you could’ve given me.

If you can call it that and at first when she asked him about the ring, I was surprised but my heart just sunk. I don't think either of them were in the right, I don't think they were both wrong either... I don't believe I'm good enough with problem solving to know what advice I'd give them but I do know that I have never experienced a feeling more cathartic than this one when reading. Twenty nine chapters leading to this moment... All the questions and pining and heartbreak. .. And sure, there's so much more they could say and there's so much more you talk about and figure out but as of right now... This is the beginning of the rest of their lives.

So, I think what she meant to ask was why did he just not give up on her, but she was tired and spontaneous and the ring question just tumbled out instead. I tried so hard for all their conversations to sound spontaneous and not rehearsed you know? Where they ended up touching on every aspect of the past? Cause that wouldn’t happen. It just wouldn’t.

And THANK YOU for saying that. I swear to God, this chapter wouldn’t have made that impact if it hadn’t had a backing of 29 chapters. It would have royally fallen flat. Everyone was invested in the story by now and I was counting on it.

I didn't like how Sam got angry at first because I put myself in her shoes but the truth is, someone needed to get angry about something. One of them had to feel some type of overwhelming emotion to get here and it just so happened that it started with pain and landed on anger.

This is and SPN finale type of dilemma though. Like for the writers, they had to Kill of Dean first cause only Sam had the slight ability to move on. Sam way, I didn’t think the reader would have ever gotten angry first. She is so burdened by her own guilt (undeserved tbh) but she wouldn’t just lash out first. Sam had been angry at the start of the series and absolutely livid in their time apart. I just thought it would be easier for him to get mad first. Not defending his choices or whatever, just why I chose to make that decision as a writer. I would have been plenty mad a reader, too.

But the way they got angry wasn't a bad thing, their anger was based in how much they care about each other. Like the anger I would feel when one of my dogs ran just a little too far from me and a car was coming - took like fifteen fucking years off my ife istg. But I wasn't angry and screaming at them to make them feel bad, I was angry because I was so fucking scared that they would get hurt. The anger wasn't based in resentment, it was based in love. It's the same here and you can see it.

Jesus, I’m so sorry that happened with one of your dogs. Seriously. That sounds scary AF. I’m glad your dogs are okay.

Their anger isn’t destructive. It just isn’t. That much I’m pretty sure of. They’ve dealt with so much shit, and truly love each too much to actually hurt one another with words at this point. And it’s a good 10 chapters of journey where they deal with one issue after another to effing solve it like adults and not teenagers in throes of passion. I was like, nope! Not doing the passionate way. These two don’t get to be smart enough to get into Stanford and then be dumb like that and scream and yell and be jealous or irrational. It added a few chapters, but if I can be patient, so can be everyone else :P

The story she told about the cactus was not only a brilliant way to show her mindset and how people saw her over the years but also so fucking heartbreaking. On one hand you have this coworker who saw her and thought, "that person needs something low maintenance if they can care for something at all" and on the other - you've got this woman who tries her best to nurture this plant and help it grow and it ends up dying anyway.

That cactus one is inspired by real life event. And it seriously broke my heart to go through. Hoping each day that the last pod might live through :/ Like you said her co-worker wasn’t being mean, but it sucks that the cactus died anyway :(

Girl, you made my morning today. I woke up to your love and I just... you had me speechless. That chapter took a lot out of our branicells and I rewrote it so many times just to get it right for it to be respectful, vulnerable and cathartic at the same time.

But may I ask you, WHY YOU WERE UP TILL 5:30 in the morning to read it? I have a timestamp thingy going for me, okay? I knew what time it was over there! And you gave yourself a migraine crying? OMG! I am so so sorry :/ Gosh. If I knew, you were going to binge it straight, I’d have warned you!

Seriously, Ria! Thank you seems like a small phrase. I will tell you this, I love you! So much!

#Ana replies #Ana loves Ria #seriously you make my work look nicer and more deep than it is #sincerely humbled by this #can't word the gratitude right #q

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phagemaleficar · 3 years

Conversation

Occupy Wall Street Medic Interview Transcript

Q: Looking back on Occupy, how do you feel that protests have learned and grown since then?

A: Decentralization. We learned you can’t rely on one voice, or one group of voices. When any person can lead, the police cannot stop us through single arrests. I think that’s why they pulled that bullshit mass arrest – they wanted to intimidate everyone because they didn’t know how to stop a leadership that didn’t exist.

Q: How has the police response changed over the years?

A: In the past decade it has become terrifyingly and infuriatingly more militant and under trump they’ve become so absurdly violent that we’ve had to adapt as medics and protestors. They’ve gotten much too trigger happy on impact weapons, projectiles, and chemical weapons and they’re trying new stuff on us all the time.

They’re lasing protestors to mark them for arrest. That was a new one to see. Plus that terrifying DNA-marker UV dye. This stuff can mark you as having been out at a specific date or even time and place and it is devilishly hard to remove. They have also been seen using Adamsite, which is a chemical weapon designed to cause vomiting and sneezing and unlike CS, can last for 12 hours in the system. There’s some nightmare fuel for anyone who believes in democracy.

With few exceptions, I see police as being more violent, and faster on the draw. Criticism of several high-profile police-murder-unarmed-Black-civilian cases has also seemed to make them really shitty.

Q: How has protest culture and organization changed in the years since Occupy?

A: Communication is huge. Encrypted messaging, the ability to blast out info to a whole country, the capacity to put everything, every video, online has meant we have more options but also more risks. Even what, nine years ago? We couldn’t mass organize nearly as well as we can today, though it was pretty good at the time it has only gotten better.

Honestly, the prevalence of social media may have made communication and mass movements harder as the signal-to-noise ratio goes out of whack. How do you expect to find out about an action when the FB algorithm buries it but shows you 50 fuckin buzz feed quizzes? But as the landscape has changed, so have tactics.

Q: Do you think modern protestors would have handled it differently?

A: People are way more pissed now, but I think Occupy helped push that. For all its faults, Occupy made it clear that civilly obedient protest, which we’d fallen back on for… some reason, was just not as impactful. Love or hate it, everyone was talking about it. They delayed the NYSE opening bell which was, I believe, a first. I remember nearly being crushed by a police barricade that day, in fact.

A lot of people radicalized in Occupy movements. I did, personally. Prior to OWS, I thought protesting was pointless and stupid. I thought the police were just keeping the peace. I was, eugh, a libertarian. And then, while trying to help people, I saw just how offensively bad NYPD was and it was a shock. Maybe that perspective skews my thoughts a bit, but I do feel like protestors after a year of increasing violence and anger would be far more confrontational and I think it would have boiled over in that park far sooner.

I also have to say, I think OWS would have been a more diverse movement today. They acknowledge the issue at the time, but there was a bit of an “it is what it is” reaction, and maybe a tendency to overcompensate when Black voices did speak. “Promote Black Voices” doesn’t mean “turn off your brain” and look, lots of people had iffy ideas at Occupy, across melanin shades and hues. The white guilt did us no favors. Having more Black Voices and white allies who actually know how to ally instead of white knight would have been badass.

Q: What kind of impact do you think Occupy had on protesting in the US?

A: It taught cops they couldn’t just target the “people in charge”, that’s for sure. it also was there when live streams off the street were becoming a thing. Having PD there, on a live feed, hiding badge numbers and going berserk was influential in ways I think we’ll bee tracing the effects of for years. A lot like how when war footage went from carefully edited and shown in news reels to on TV, sometimes live, and horrifically live and raw and bloody in Vietnam, the people’s view swung hard.

Seeing Officer Bologna randomly and cruelly hose down a couple of protestors quietly stood in a kettle while even other cops looked on in shock and confusion is one of those images I think we need to make sure is kept around for generations. That being blasted over the internet infuriated people. And the cops know it, now. They know how fast video goes live and how much people are willing to dox every last one of them.

Beyond that, taking protesting to a youth-level, taking it to a fully digital organization and digital word of mouth, this is massive. Occupy reminded us to pressure them in their daily lives, not just at the RNC and DNC but to say “Oh, I’m sorry, were you enjoying your Tuesday? Fuck you Tuesday, people are dying.” Y’know how pearls are made? A tiny grain of sand gets into an oyster and irritates the shit out of it until the oyster makes it into a precious “stone”. OWS taught a lot of us to make ourselves a menace.

Q: What advice would you give to future protestors?

A: You are one, fragile, insignificant person. In a crowd that outnumbers anything they can throw at you. If you refuse to accept “no”, there ain’t shit they can do.

#ows #occupy wall street

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risottostitties · 5 years

Note

Hi! First time here to ask haha! Any HCs for La squadra with an Otaku s/o? Like she watches anime and even buys merch in secret cuz she's scared they might find her hobby lame and immature? (Also,what will be their fave anime? And genre?)

Oh boy let me tell you I have some THOUGHTS about these boys and their taste in anime

La Squadra with an Otaku s/o

Risotto

at first he’s gonna be kinda confused, not gonna lie. Growing up the only ‘anime’ he knew was like, Pokemon and Dragon Ball Z but at that point he was too old to really get into Pokemon, and he never considered DBZ anime because it aired next to cartoons and stuff.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t appreciate s/o and their good taste. He’s the kind of guy who wants to learn about what interests the people he loves, and he loves you. So he’d honestly enjoy late nights spent binge watching your favorites.

Comes to realize that DBZ was low key his gym goals for the early years of him working out. If you bought him a ‘Swole like Goku’ tank he’d probably wear it to lift in, ngl.

Knowing your favorites he’d probably look to merch for his go to birthday or Christmas gifts. Considering the hobbies and interests of some of his co-workers, a scantily clad waifu figure is honestly a welcome change of pace.

Depending on the style or aesthetic of the anime (ie, is it goth) he would be down to couples cosplay, although he wouldn’t be comfortable with you posting pictures of his face or any identifiable features of him online

His fave is probably the original Dragon Ball Run, followed very closely by DBZ for the nostalgia bit. Something deep like Full Metal Alchemist (Brotherhood and the original) would also appeal to him

Is also a big fan of Beserk, disappointed by the anime. And Vinland Saga, not disappointed by the anime.

Partial to Princess Mononoke as well. He likes some Ghibli films, isn’t afraid to admit it. Thinks the score for Spirited Away is bomb af.

Prosciutto

Prosciutto doesn’t really get it at first either. Honestly? He probably didn’t know the difference between cartoon and anime until you explained it to him.

Unlike Risotto he might be a bit more judgey if you try to get him to watch some with you. So you gotta hit him with the real classics.

But similarly to Risotto, he at least makes an effort to try and indulge in the things you like. He might not be as patient, but he tries.

Probably wouldn’t do cosplay himself, but would hunt down exclusive seasonal merch to gift you. He’d take careful stock of your collections and do some research to pick out only the finest figurines and posters for you.

Would buy that hella expensive premium bandai apparel for you too, might even pick something subtle up for himself if he really liked the show it came from.

Also back on the cosplay note, if you agreed he’d find the highest quality cosplay possible and have you model some of his favorites for him.

(In particular if you were comfortable in fem clothing, Faye Valentine gets him going)

He loves Cowboy Beebop. 100%, wants to watch it again as soon as it ends. Everything from the characters to the story to the music and the fliud animation that has aged like fine wine appeals to him. Prosciutto is a man who likes the finer things in life. He oozes class. Cowboy Beebop oozes class and prestige.

Also likes Maasaki Yuasa. It was his idea to go see The Night Is Short, Walk on Girl in theaters.

In general his tastes tend to lean towards arthouse type anime or bona fide classics.

Pesci

Pesci knows anime and has been doing his absolute best to keep it a secret from the rest of the gang because they already tease him enough.

He’s one of those secret weebs, you gotta know where to look. Your best bet is to look at his accessories. Is there a watch with a certain symbol from an anime you recognize? A lanyard with a familiar print? Something subtle that isn’t immediately noticed by people not looking for it.

He has a secret box in his room full of blue rays from his faves. He watches them sometimes when he’s home alone. There’s nothing X rated in there obviously, he just doesn’t want people to know.

Thank god he has you.

The two of you probably bonded pretty fast over your mutual love of anime. Hell, you being such an open and proud Otaku probably gave him a bit of confidence in expressing his interests too.

Yall are the weeb couple. Yall definitely go to conventions together. Couples Cosplays, the whole thing.

He’s a sucker for Shonen just as much as he is for the really good heart wrenching painful ones.

He watches Boruto because he loves Naruto so much.

He would also tear up at Clannad.

Dango Daikazoku triggers almost a pavlovian response of heart ache.

So does Secret Base.

Ano Hana is probably his favorite, although even you’d need to pry it out of him. Its one thing that Prosciutto gives him shit for liking anime, its a whole different ball game if he found out Pesci liked girly anime

Fromaggio

He knows what hentai is. That’s about as far as his knowledge went before yall got together.

He thinks its pretty interesting though, so he’d be down to watch some with you.

Turns out he really likes action shonen. He got really, really into One Piece. Like, instantly. He likes the fact there’s so much to watch/read before he’s caught up too.

Another boy that would couples cosplay and be really into it. Especially if it continued into the bedroom.

He’s pretty go with the flow, so he isn’t picky about what y’all watch. Even if it isn’t his cup of tea he’ll sit through a few episodes on a night with you.

Fromaggio can’t tell the difference between a high quality figure and a shitty one. Its a crap shoot what he buys for you. Its more a process of ‘oh, so likes this character’ rather than checking the seams and paint quality and how dynamic the pose is/interchangeable parts.

Definitely buys way too much in the dealers room because of this.

He tries his best.

His fave is probably One Piece, liked bleach a lot but never read the manga, Yu Yu Hakusho is another one he really enjoyed. The Dark Tournament arc had him at the edge of his seat and hype as shit.

Illuso

Had a passing knowledge of anime before dating you. Knew what it was, saw a few of the mainstream ones, thought they were enjoyable, moved on with his life.

Your dedicated interest in anime would surprise him at first, because he always figured it was kind of a niche thing.

Would snoop around your collection of manga/figures/plushes in the mirror world while you sleep.

Winds up reading a lot of your manga like that (he’s good at reading in reverse because of his stand)

He finds he appreciates the art style of 80s-90s manga a lot more than he does the modern stuff. He really got into Ranma 1/2 and thinks Rumiko Takahashi’s artstyle is excellent.

If you asked him to watch Inuyasha with you he wouldn’t say no.

Probably wouldn’t want to do couples cosplay, but he definitely has an appreciation for you in cosplay.

You could talk him into going to a con if you caught him in the right mood. It’d be a hard sell though.

Has a surprising enjoyment for J-Rock.

Inuyasha is high on his favorites list, as is Ranma 1/2. Also a fan of Ghibli movies although its pulling teeth to get him to admit it.

Melone

This man has watched so much hentai in his life.

He probably actually knows them by title honestly.

He enjoys anime too, and is not ashamed unlike Pesci. Everyone already knows he has unconventional tastes there is nothing to hide here.

Melone enjoys traditionally feminine anime, especially Sailor Moon. That one has a special place in his heart as he has memories of his sister watching it with him when he was much younger.

Its more of a decompress thing than anything else, so he doesn't tend to favor heavy anime with dense plot and more mature subject matter.

He likes Maid Costumes. On you, on him, it doesn’t matter.

Doesn’t know a whole lot about merch and what makes something higher quality but he learns fast. Between you and him the Dealers Room at cons won’t know what hit them.

Is the type to preorder a figure he knows you’d like. And maybe one for him.

Buy him this and he’s putty in your hands for a month straight (SFW don’t worry) https://www.amazon.com/Bandai-Sailor-Moonlight-Memory-Locket/dp/B00UA9XB48

Sailor Moon is his favorite as I’ve said before, his favorite sailor scout is Rei. Is also a fan of Ano Hana, Violet Evergarden, and Toradora although he needs to be in the right mood to watch them.

Ghiaccio

He went down the Fate rabbit hole and we haven’t seen him since.

The gender bending grates as his soul but he is addicted regardless. There’s just so much dense lore that he can’t seem to stop going.

But also seeing how much care and attention is paid to the historical background of a lot of the servants is intriguing to him. Its the perfect blend of accurate and harem trash that infuriates him but also leaves him needing to know more.

He hasn’t played every game but he has Grand Order on his phone and has sunk an ungodly amount of money into the gacha trying to get his favorite (Its Jeanne Alter, in case anyone was wondering) and has seen all the anime (His favorite is the cooking spin off because its surprisingly calming to watch)

Fate Zero is probably his favorite ‘serious’ Fate adaptation. He enjoys the gravitas of the Holy Grail Wars (and hates how it was tossed out the fucking window in UBW/Stay Night/Heavens Feel) and the ritual aspect to the summoning and foreshadowing of future events as well as hints at a deeper magical lore in the universe hit all the right spots in his lizard brain.

The fact every fate anime has a different version of Saber (or a Saber Clone) pisses him off too.

He really loves Fate. And will scream about it for hours at you.

Getting him to watch or talk about anything else is like pulling teeth but he eventually relents because he loves you.

Its difficult to get through a single episode without him grumbling about something or another, but he tries once he sees its important to you. He does his best not to outright insult your favorite anime.

Can appreciate high quality merch as well, probably collects Jalter Figures himself.

If you’re comfortable in fem clothing, Cosplay Jalter for him and he will literally ascend then and there. Keeps pics on his phone. Would probably make it his background. He’s weak

Outside of Fate he finds he enjoys high fantasy shows. Historical fantasy pisses him off too much, and straight up historical drama would also have him grasping for inaccuracies.

Full Metal Alchemist is a non-fate series that he really loves because of the world building. The movie Maquia was one he enjoyed as well. Likes every Miyazaki film, don’t tell anyone. Cried (and raged) when Ushio died in Clannad.

In general he just likes really good world building. It has to be good otherwise he’s going to spend the whole time picking it apart.

#risotto nero #melone #prosciutto #pesci #ghiaccio #illuso #fromaggio #jjba #jjba headcanons #la squadra #not sfw #just in case #la sqaudra #la squadra x reader #x reader #jjba writing blog

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thewhumperinwhite · 4 years

Text

Café: Empty Bar

Okay, I’mma be real with you: this is probably the least whumpy chapter in all of Café, and I apologize for that. There will be Active Suffering in the next scene, I promise.

TW for: I honestly don’t think there are any triggers in here; there’s concussion symptoms and Two Different Manifestations Of Low Self Worth, but it’s. Not far from being straight fluff.

@whumpitywhumpwhump

Even with his eyes closed, the random flickers of light assaulting his vision make Sol wince and turn to bury his face in his blankets.

For a long, blissful moment he’s warm on his shitty futon in his tiny apartment, holding on to his last few minutes of sleep before he has to get ready for work.

Then he remembers.

Sol sits up with a gasp, and immediately regrets it.

“Hey, don’t,” a soft voice says, and a hand rests on his shoulder and gently pushes him back down. He lets it, raising a hand to his miserably pounding head. Someone brushes his hair carefully back out of his eyes. Their hand is very soft.

“You wanna try and sit up more slowly?” the voice says gently. “I found some ibuprofen if you want it. And you should probably drink some water, if you can.”

Ibuprofen sounds structurally necessary at the moment. Sol grunts an affirmative and scoots to sit up against the arm of the couch, his eyes still squeezed shut.

“Oh, sorry,” the voice says quickly, and the flickering light through Sol’s eyelids stops abruptly.

Sol cracks an eye open experimentally. The room is dim enough to be almost bearable. Sol blinks around at it, feeling like he has the world’s worst hangover.

It’s a small room with plaster walls and industrial-style carpeting. Sol is stretched out on a stained yellow couch; there’s also a threadbare armchair, a very old television perched precariously on a rickety stand, a coffee table that looks like it was made in someone’s backyard, and a cramped kitchenette. The fluorescent ceiling lights are off, thank god, and the only dim light comes from a crooked floor lamp behind the TV. The coffee table is currently shoved up against the armchair to give Kent Graves room to kneel next to the couch and hand Sol a glass of water and two gelcaps. Sol gulps them down gratefully.

“Do you feel nauseous?” Kent says when Sol has downed the entire glass.

Sol does, but no worse than when he’s hungover. “No,” he croaks, handing Kent back the glass.

“Okay. Are your ears ringing?”

Sol was into deathmetal in highschool, his ears are always ringing. “No. Where are we?”

Kent holds his hand up a foot away from Sol’s face. “Is your vision blurry at all? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Sol sits up straighter, looking around. “Is this, like… a breakroom? What time is it?”

Kent doesn’t acknowledge the question in any way. “How many fingers, Sol?”

Sol glares at him, and Kent raises one eyebrow, apparently willing to wait. Sol rolls his eyes. “Three fingers.”

“Thank you,” Kent says, lowering his hand, and sits back on his heels, looking around at the dingy room. “And— yeah, it is a break room, as far as I can tell.”

Sol pauses in the act of trying to sit upright to stare at Kent, alarmed. “You don’t know?”

Kent looks at the curtained windows, apparently a bit embarrassed. “Not— exactly? I mean, I know this is a bar. I didn’t get a good look at the sign.” He looks back at Sol, a bit sheepishly. “We’re less than two blocks from where the squad car crashed. You’re heavier than you look.”

Sol stares at him, mildly horrified.

“Did you carry me here?” he blurts before he can stop himself.

Kent immediately looks guilt-stricken. “Yeah. I— I dragged you a little at the end. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“What the fuck did you do that for, genius?” Sol almost yells. Kent flinches like Sol’s hit him, but Sol can’t stop. “You don’t know me from shit!”

Kent uncoils from his whole-body wince slowly to stare at Sol in confusion. “You— what?”

“No wonder your nose is broken if you keep shoving it into other people’s business!” Sol snaps. Kent blinks at him, looking utterly flummoxed.

“Hold on,” Kent says. “Are you— sorry, you’re mad because you think I should have… what, left you there?”

“Uh, yeah!” Sol says furiously. “What kind of dumbass drags a stranger two blocks with a broken collarbone?” He swings his legs off the couch and sits up, gripping the upholstery and gritting his teeth through the resulting dizzy spell. “You did the same thing when the old man grabbed me at the cafe. I don’t need your help, asshole!”

Now that Sol is sitting up Kent, still kneeling on the floor, is looking up at him, wide-eyed. Then his face quirks up into a doofy sort of half-smile that Sol tells himself furiously is obnoxious, not cute. “So you would’ve left me there, huh? If you’d been in my position?”

“Hell yeah I would have!” Sol is not going to let Kent make him feel guilty, because he’s right, goddammit. “I don’t even fucking know you!”

“Interesting,” Kent says, and then he frowns and touches his chin in mock thoughtfulness. “You know, it’s funny. I swear I remember being in the car after it flipped, for just a second before I passed out. But when I woke up, I was definitely out on the pavement, out of range when it blew up.” He looks up at Sol, tilting his head in exaggerated confusion. “How do you think I got out of the car?”

Oh. That. “That was different,” Sol says, flushing.

Kent laughs, looking at him with that same weird, almost-fond smile he gave him at the hospital, when Sol said he hated MRIs. It was— infuriating. “Different how?” he says, and his voice is so warm that Sol shoots to his feet in order to stop looking at Kent’s face.

“Ghhgk,” Sol says eloquently, pressing a hand to his forehead while he waits for his vision to swim back into focus. “It just is, okay?” he says, and he opens the door next to the kitchenette.

“Oh,” Kent says as Sol steps out into the empty bar, scrambling to his feet behind him. “Um, I wouldn’t, uh— I wouldn’t try and go outside, yet.”

Sol catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the bar and forces himself to look away from the bruised wreck that is his face to frown at Kent. “What? Why not?”

Kent’s eyes dart out to the wide windows at the far end of the bar, leading out into the street. “Uh,” he says. He’s no longer smiling; Sol realizes with a growing chill that he looks afraid. “Well, I was watching the news while you were out,” Kent says. Sol looks around; the stools aren’t stacked up neatly on the bar and tables like he would expect. It actually looks like people may have left the bar in kind of a hurry. “It— it looks like the old man wasn’t the only one in the city.”

Sol stares at him, the ringing in his ears growing into a nervous buzz. “What? What do you mean?”

Kent shuts the door to the breakroom, cutting off the dim light and leaving the bar lit only by the streetlights outside. Sol looks out the window and sees that none of the business on the other side of the street have their signs lit. He feels suddenly very cold. “It sounds like— They think maybe it was some kind of. Attack or something? Like they were released at strategic points throughout the city. Some of them, uh— they got some of them right away, like… I did, with the old man, I guess. But it looks like whatever’s wrong with them spreads through fluid-to-fluid contact.” Kent laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like— like a zombie movie, you know?”

Sol is still staring at him. He watches a drop of sweat make its way down the side of Kent’s face. Kent’s ditched the sling they gave him at the hospital— possibly when he dragged Sol half a block— and his hand is hanging at his side. Sol can see it shaking.

“They’re telling people to stay inside,” Kent concludes, and waits for Sol’s reaction, fidgeting slightly.

Sol can’t stop staring. “My apartment’s on the other side of town.”

Kent nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, I can’t, uh— I have to go upstate, actually.”

“You what?” Sol says. He’s beginning to think that everything Kent says is worse than the thing before. “Did you not just tell me that the city is filled with murderous zombies?” He gestures helplessly toward the windows with his bandaged hands. “Like, 28 Days Later-style fast zombies, too, not shambling Night Of The Living Dead ones?”

Kent nods. He looks unhappy, but he also looks completely certain. “Yeah. You should find somewhere to stay around here, if you can.” He shrugs. “But I gotta go upstate.”

And… listen. Sol does not know this boy. He has seen him get backhanded by his father, but that does not mean that he knows him, any more than pulling him out of a car wreck means he knows him. Or seeing him unconscious. This is the part where Sol says, okay, thanks for carrying me I guess, have fun feeding yourself to zombies, goodbye forever. Because he might be kind of attracted, but that doesn’t make him an idiot.

“What’s upstate?” Sol says, because apparently, yes it does.

#whump #the café at the end of the world #whump setup #zombie apocalypse whump #concussion #comfort #caretaking

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moonshinemornings · 4 years

Text

in my skin

i’ve been thinking about writing this for a long time, and I think I’m at a place where, more so than being comfortable talking about it, putting my thoughts down might help me continue to chip away at my complex.

I want to preface this by saying that my fixation on how my body looks is infuriating to even me. this is for 3 reasons:

1) there is an endless list of more important, broader existential crises to be concerned with instead of how I look (what am I heading towards? am I genuinely happy pursuing a capitalistic, societal definition of success? what is purpose or value in my life???)

2) even on an individual level, so many other aspects of a human make up their person and make them interesting other than how they look and its stupid to be so concerned with this one thing that means so little if anything at all

3) I’m not even that stupidly far away from societal beauty standards anyway wtf like stfu

regardless, I think my thoughts about my body are reflective of how I think about myself relative to the world in general. I’ve also found that the relationship I have with my body is often a symptom about how I am feeling about my self worth at a certain point in time, and also manifests in how I see and treat the people around me. for these reasons I think it can be valuable to unpack these feelings even though they may seem asinine.

the first time I became conscious of my body was in my primary school dance club, when we had to get measured for our costumes. most of my friends were generally skinny and I wasn’t significantly larger than any of them. but the nature of (chinese) dance and the kind of girls that joined it made the general impression that it was better to be lithe and delicate - the moves just looked better that way. the revelation that I wasn’t as thin as I could be was not groundbreaking. it didn’t trigger any immediately toxic thoughts either. it was just a thought I hadn’t had before, that my body wasn’t perfect. It also didn’t affect me much because I had a lot of good stuff going on in school; I had great friends, I did well in school, everything looked good on paper and in real life (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I peaked in primary school). so it wasn’t a huge trigger for anything, just a planting of a seed, I guess? dormant.

as I grew into my teens my body was often too busy serving its intended purposes for me to be concerned with how it looked. I played sports all the time, I woke up early and went to bed early (when possible). I ate well and I was active. It wasn’t difficult to be relatively fit, so I wasn’t really that concerned with how “good” my body looked. like all teens, I did become more concerned with standards of attractiveness and whether or not I conformed to them. I noticed how people’s bodies differed and what people liked. I was aware that I was not on the top of my teenage male acquaintance’s who-would-you-bang list, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. I wasn’t super pleased with my body but I definitely wasn’t unhappy with it. and frankly speaking, I didn’t think I was unattractive lah like ya I might not be hot shit but I was definitely not ugly and I was pretty confident with what I had to offer. this was probably also due to the fact that I did well in school and extra-curriculars, so I found my validation elsewhere.

for a short time between high school and college I had a body goal I wanted to work towards, time on my hands and a motivated support system, so I started working out for an aesthetic. It wasn’t super serious and there were no hard and fast rules, plus it was genuinely fun to work my body. I had been an athlete for several years at this point and I knew I felt good when my body was well-worked and maintained, so it was never difficult to bring myself to work out. the results were a happy bonus. looking back that was probably the time when I had the healthiest relationship with my body. I liked using it and spending time on it for the sake of doing it, I liked how it made me look but never to the extent that it became my main motivation for working on my body. if I had the luxury of unadulterated, stressless time, I could probably do it again. when I started college I was healthy, I looked good and I didn’t even care (we’ll come back to this).

when I started college things started to fall apart. my time in university was, overall, pretty shitty for my mental health. it was great in a lot of other aspects, and I can say with little doubt that it’s helped me grow into a person I not only want to be but am comfortable with. but the process was a shit show to put it lightly. when it comes to my relationship with how I look in particular, I think my years in London have unfortunately left me with a considerable amount of trauma. to make a long story short, I had an ideal of what I wanted my college experience to be like, but half a year into it I found myself severely unsatisfied with every aspect of my life. I wasn’t doing well in school, I felt like I was underperforming socially, I was conscious about the difference in affluence between me and the people around me and I was generally unhappy with the space I took up in my own and other people’s narratives. amidst all this, I put on some weight because (1) I wasn’t working out anywhere as much as I used to (2) the weather, my mental wellbeing and the food readily available made me eat a lot of junk. but instead of acknowledging and focusing on the underlying inferiority complexes that were eating away at me, I sought alternative validation through things I could seemingly control i.e. how I looked. it became the case that it was no longer that I looked a certain way because I worked out, but that I worked out because I wanted to look a certain way. and when I didn’t look a certain way because I was eating shit or going out or because it just plainly was not realistic given my living situation, the lack of validation would further aggravate the inferiority complexes and unhappiness with my person that started this toxicity to begin with. i ended first year treating the people around me like shit, not having anything to show for the hours of studying i put in, and a lot heavier than when I started it. family and friends pointed it out and i was pretty chill about it whenever it happened. i honestly thought i wasn’t that affected by it (again, brushing under the carpet the problems I had with the expectations I set for myself), and that i could lose the weight if i put my mind to it.

then in second year i developed an eating disorder. a couple months into second year I hadn’t made much progress with either my mental or physical health. I often ate till I was physically uncomfortable because I had a general problem with self control (I had none, in fact I didn’t want any, but that’s a story for another time). One night after eating too much, I went to brush my teeth and I was so full that when I gagged lightly from brushing my tongue, I involuntarily threw up the food that was filled up to my gullet. A normal person would’ve registered this as a cue that they should be more conscious about how much they’re eating. I saw it as an opportunity to eat as much as I wanted (for what?) and still be (or at least feel like I am) in control of how much weight I put on. and so I developed bulimia. the bulimia was closely followed by a binge eating disorder - seeing that now there was a mechanism to keep my intake in check, I could let my eating habits, which were in fact reflective of my control problems unravelling, go crazy. I told a couple friends about it because I thought maybe I needed help, but I never really told them how bad it could get. some nights I would go down into the kitchen in the middle of the night twice. thrice. seven times. I would look for anything I could inhale. cashews dipped in peanut butter. seaweed with a cup of yogurt. three packets of chips and a large slice of cake. instant noodles and jam straight out from the jar. it didn’t matter. it all ended up coming back out of my mouth and into the toilet bowl anyway. I would go out for meals with my friends and we would over-order. the paiseh pieces would be left on the plate and if no one wanted them, i would eat them. immediately afterwards I’d go to the restaurant washroom and throw it up. and all this time while I treated both food and my digestive tract like they were toys, my fixation on how I looked grew. spoiler: i did not lose weight from being bulimic. but I very much did lie to myself about it in order to keep at what was actually a coping mechanism for the rest of my life that was falling apart around me. I threw up everything I ate today, do I look different? I didn’t throw lunch up, but I worked out, so it should cancel out, does it show? I ate a salad but because for dinner we had baked rice I threw half of it up, it didn’t make me bloat did it?

towards the end of second year I had a rude awakening that forced me to drag myself out of the shit hole of a mindset I had casted myself into to address the personal issues and the lazy, irresponsible, selfish attitude that had gotten me to this point. luckily, when I dealt with the underlying dissatisfaction I felt towards myself, my problems with food disappeared along with it. right now I don’t have an unhealthy relationship with food. if i were being generous, I’d say it could even be considered pretty healthy. my relationship with my physical body is also pretty good. I eat balanced meals, I sleep well, I work out when I want to and lay in bed and eat junk when I want to. I don’t force myself to get activity in, I don’t force myself to eat more or eat less. in fact, I think I am really inching towards getting the intuitive eating and living thing down. I’ve lost some weight and I definitely don’t hate how I look anymore. so I think I am in a good place for the most part.

my relationship with body image and the validation I feel from how I look however, has been (permanently?) affected. as it stands, I am scared about two things.

first. I like the person I am right now. my life is not super in check, but I’m holding it down pretty well. but in the past two years, when i had nothing under control, the way I looked was the only measure with which i valued my worth. do I only place less emphasis on how I look right now because, like when I was in high school, I have other things going for me? if, come one day, life happens and the going gets tough, will I once again come down on myself because I don’t look perfect, even though I don’t look shit? will how I see my body and how I feel about it be affected every time something else in my life causes anxiety or unhappiness, and if that happens is there a risk of it starting a vicious circle of self-toxicity?

second. like I said, I don’t hate how I look right now. but I also don’t love it. since coming back home, after a shower or when I’m changing or whenever I’m deciding what to wear, I stand in front of the mirror, and I look into it for what I can tell is longer than I would like. I don’t give myself shit for how I look or dislike what I see. but why am I looking anyways? am i checking to see if i like my body any more or less today? why do I care? why should it matter how close or far I am to society and my own definition of an ideal body?

recently I watched a video that said despite the positive intentions of the body positivity movement, a better approach would be radical body acceptance. body positive says that even though I’m fatter or shorter or flatter or whatever-er than the beauty standard, I am still beautiful. radical body acceptance argues that words like fat or thin or flat or short or thin should just be neutral words. there is no good or bad linked to them and there is no good or bad body type. bodies are not “beautiful however they may look”. they are just bodies. I’m trying to strive towards this idea of body perception, to go back to a place of not caring how I look in and of itself or relative to anything else. how I look will just be how I look. to be clear, I don’t think this mindset is the best one that should be universally promoted. I do however think it is the best method for me. this is because I’ve found that ever since developing a fixation on my body and how it looks, sometimes when I see other people the things I take notice of most are their bodies as well. I don’t think I go as far as to assign worth to their person or character because of how their body looks, but I can tell that I’m developing a fixation on other people’s bodies (even if I don’t compare it to mine) and I feel like it subconsciously blocks a clear, genuine perception of them as people. and, of course, it feeds into my obsession about how I look. the more I care, the more I care. so I want to focus on caring less, and eventually not caring.

I would like for a day to come where I can put on clothes and not feel the need to change out of it because I don’t like how I look in something before leaving the house. I would like even more if I didn’t feel the need to look in the mirror before leaving to begin with. I would like to be able to not feel badly if someone points out I gained weight, but I would like even more to not feel happy because someone says I’ve lost weight. I would like to stalk fewer girls on instagram to see what their bodies look like in different photos. I would like to stop being concerned about how my body looks in different photos. I would like for a day to come where, whenever I’m not actively thinking about it, I forget how I look. slowly but surely, I will take steps to make this happen. it took a while to rebuild a healthy relationship with food, and then a healthy relationship with my physical body. surely it will take longer to rebuild the relationship with the image and idea of my body in my mind. I think the moment I forget the image exists will be the day I manage to do so.

#hello

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juliankinney · 4 years

Text

━━ ( alex fitzalan + cis male + twenty-two ) oi , have you seen julian kinney around ? he lives in flat 14 in bedroom 4 ? i was meant to meet them this morning at bean me up before our lecture but he didn’t show . no ? well , shit . if you do see them , can you tell them i’m looking for them ? they’re a 4th year computer science student from madrid , spain & you’ll know it’s them because they might just remind you of a stack of unread books , the sound of keyboard typing at three in the morning , coffee creamer in every flavor , & unprescribed pills if that helps at all . just be careful , he can be a little distant , critical , & compulsive sometimes . —- oh don’t look like that , they’re usually ingenious , reliable , & confident most of the time . ✏ y! , 22 , she/her , cst

alright whats up guys, as jd once said, greetings and salutations!! im y and this here is julian, who i’ve known for two hours but adore already anyway. i usually play dumbass boys and he’s no exception, but i like to think he might just be a little less dumb than the rest of them. so lets jump into it!!! ♡

for starters here is his messy pinterest board that i made.. like i said... it is a mess, and still a work in progress but y’all can have it anyway!! (fun fact: was gonna make him texan but pepper called him country boy and i was triggered!!!!!!!!!!)

backstory:

julian was the conception of two teenagers in love during the 90′s in spain; a local and a tourist. the pair were just seventeen when they became parents but it was a whole ordeal at the time because his father’s side of the family did not want anything to do with this impregnated nobody. it wasn’t his grandfather’s vision!!! his son was supposed to go into adulthood unscathed by his mistakes!!! as you can guess julian’s mom side of the family were your blue-collared society while his father’s side was more white-collared. at the time his mother was a student and helped her own mom with the family tailor shop while her father worked as a cook in a restaurant. on the other end of the spectrum, the kinney’s were in the film industry and of old money. needless to say, the two families had little in common.

the kinney’s tried to pay this girl off but her family was 100% not having it and after many arguments and empty threats they came to an agreement. said agreement was that julian would have his rightful surname and would stay in spain and the family would receive a weekly stipend for his expenses. in return no one would say a thing to the press— which, honestly was only ever a threat because the kinney’s wanted to pretend like nothing had happened.

and so julian grew up in madrid with a single mother and the help of his grandparents. as far as he knew his father had died shortly after he had been born and had been madly in love with his mother (that part was true). the only reason he didn’t share a name with the rest of his family was because the pair had never married, which, would have been the truth regardless. everything was fine; he grew up working at the family shop, attended school, skipped school, maintained amazing grades while simultaneously spending 1/3rd of the time in detention, lost his virginity to marisol cordova in her lilac colored room, etc. he had the most basic upbringing a kid could have.

then his father died. his real father. and suddenly, on paper, he was well off. it wasn’t easy for his mother to tell him the truth when his grandfather stepped foot into the one story home like he had seventeen years ago with that sour look on his face, but she was forced to. she had no other choice. devastated as she was (and she was truly heartbroken), she told him the story of how one day during the summer of 96′ she met james kinney, and how the next year he came back. then, his grandfather informed him of his father’s will and how he’d have access to his inheritance once he turned eighteen.

it was... a lot to process, and as julian does when he feels overwhelmed, he got angry. he was very upset with his mother and even more so with this old man he was meeting for the first time who kept calling him shit like ‘his only grandson’ and ‘a kinney by blood’. it was infuriating for julian, and his mother further telling him about their weekly allowance among other expenses over the years did not help. at all.

that is how julian found out his father was a successful actor turned director, generally known for an action packed franchise released in the 2000′s. it was mind boggling— he’d turn on the tv only to see a picture of his now dead father on screen, news coverage of the deadly car accident that occurred during en route to manchester on every channel. it just didn’t make any sense and was very hard to feel sad for. besides, his mother had enough sadness for the both of them. at his funeral, the two had to stay in the back while the family tried to come up with a game plan of how things were going to move forward; james’ widow was not happy to see her husbands former lover and child at the scene.

anyways in spite the fact that julian wanted nothing to do with the kinney’s, his grandfather had other plans. a vision of his own for the only grandchild his son had brought into the world, and that started with schooling. julian graduated and had no plans for college until his grandfather threatened to contest the will if he chose to stray from the path, and they needed the money; so college it was. a college of his grandfather’s choice of course, and what better place than somewhere closed off enough to distance julian from the outer world but elite in its own right?

his grandfather’s plan basically is to make him successful, and being that julian has no interest in their world, he’s had to compromise and just live with the fact that julian is just going to be your regular everyday man. he’s only really doing all of this because he feels guilt over the years but not guilty enough to tell the world that there’s an extra kinney lying around (last names are so common right!?!??!) . however, he still wants him to be in the family. as in everyone in the direct family knows of him and he gets to be involved in all family affairs, etc, but julian just does not give a fuck about them fksdhjfs specially because of how they fucked over his mom and how james’ widow is so fucking bitter about the will.

ANYWAYS he’s been at the school for four years now, gets his schooling paid by his grandfather but still has a job because pride or whatever, and will hack into your shit!

personality/hc’s

i love him, he’s sweet but also not annoyingly sweet. as in yeah he’s nice and polite but has no problem squaring up due to his short temper. kind of blunt sometimes though, and either is dumb or acts dumb if he says something that might hurt someones feelings. like oh.. sorry you feel that way ksjfsdkln

super smart???? has amazing grades and constantly does his work; knows how to multitask and balance his life out (for the most part... at least until he burns himself out). an intellectual™ . not an eboy but i guess u could say a little bit of a gamer,, has tik tok downloaded on his phone, the dad friend i guess

is either in one end of the spectrum or the other when it comes to socializing. most of the time though he finds it exhausting,, talking is hard but once he does start talking it’s like shut up dude no one cares about javascript

has a small pill problem,, he’s got to be successful somehow right !! also drinks lots of coffee and is a fan of coffee creamer, does not like the strawberry shortcake creamer though because ew. only tea he will drink is matcha green tea, anything else can suck it.

has also developed some ~anxious~ feelings , why ? idk, light trauma i guess. his pill usage sure doesn’t help though! loser! ... tbh maybe his anxiousness has grown over the years because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do after school like he has money (that he tries not to use if i’m being honest, would rather use the money he gains from his job which i haven’t decided what should be. leave me alone), and will have a degree, but he’s still just questioning everything?? things have just been weird

sometime during middle school years (idk whats the equivalent of this in spain, shut up) he got into computers and... i’m not proud of this but his first hack was into this girls account that he liked and bro all he wanted to do was see some titties man thats it i promise. that crush did not work out, obvs.

anyways yes he continued down this computer path and made an app during high school!!! it wasn’t successful at all and he eventually deleted it but good for him coding and shit!!!

would hack into school systems to help out his buds and their grades. yeah they could have just copied off of him but... where is the fun in that lads

sometime he be just looking up ‘james kinney interviews’ on youtube just to see who this dude was dshjkg poor lad

can speak english and spanish ,, has that lisp thingy spaniards have i hate it but i guess whatever

kind of messy honestly, can someone clean his desk

connections

literally anything just hmu i can’t come up with these things tbh

#pulled this out of my ass i literally just made him on the spot im jkshdsg #theflats:intro

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anistarrose · 5 years

Text

Good Luck Charm (GF Stanuary Week 4)

Summary: Stan’s always liked to cheat at games of luck, but as the months pass after the clash with Bill in the mindscape, Ford starts to suspect that something more abnormal might be going on.

Word Count: ~2500

Warnings: some brief references to violence/threats of violence, references to gambling

This isn’t for any particular @stanuary prompt, but is based off of this post by @siriuslymeg! It’s something I’ve wanted to write about for a while, and Stanuary seemed like a good opportunity to do so!

It wasn’t until they set off on the Stan O’ War II that Stan started to suspect anything had changed.

...Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was that one moment during the reconstruction of the Shack, when a falling shingle seemed to almost swerve in midair to avoid hitting Soos’s head — not to mention Ford’s little pyrotechnics demonstration at Dipper and Mabel’s birthday party. The fact that that had gone off without a hitch should have been more than enough to tell him that something was different.

But it really began one otherwise peaceful morning, a bit less than a month into their trip north, when Stan’s attempt at making coffee was foiled by a sudden force slamming into the side of the boat. It knocked the pot clear off the counter and onto the floor, and rivers of precious caffeinated beverage seeped into the cracks between the planks, disappearing forever as the boat continued to shake.

“Alright,” Ford growled, pulling out his gun and bolting for the steps to the deck, “this is war.” Before Stan could warn him to be careful, or ask if he even knew what they were dealing with, he was out of sight.

“Damn it, Sixer,” Stan muttered as he fumbled around for a weapon, “every time you rush in like this, you end up needing me to save your ass…”

Sure enough, not thirty seconds later he heard Ford yelling. At first, it was the savage cry of a man determined to avenge his coffee, but it quickly morphed into a shout of surprise, and then the familiar “Stanley! Help!”

Stan sighed. “Called it.”

He grabbed a harpoon gun, and charged upstairs to his brother’s rescue, only to find himself staring down… the most obnoxiously bright yellow duck he’d ever seen, like a bath toy come to life.

Even ignoring its ridiculous wide-eyed expression, the color alone made Stan want to puke — hell, even Bill Cipher himself had been downright aesthetically pleasing compared to this abomination. And of course, that couldn’t be all. It just had to also be surrounded by two dozen massive squid-like tentacles, all of them the same bright yellow and one of them wrapped around Ford’s chest and hoisting him several feet above the deck.

“Quick!” Ford yelled, gasping for breath. “The Rubber Quacken’s weak spot is just — just below the bill! Kill the foul creature, before I —”

Making a split second decision to comment on the monster’s horrendous name later, Stan aimed the harpoon gun as best as he could. It was hard to even look directly at the duck for more than a few seconds, much less take an accurate shot —

He saw Ford turning purple and futilely thrashing about in his peripheral vision, and before he realized what he was doing, his finger squeezed down on the trigger. No monster this ridiculous is going to take away my brother.

The shot should have gone wide. He saw it pointing far above the duck’s head, nowhere near the angle it was meant to fly at. But the harpoon spun in midair like some invisible hand had deflected it, plunging downwards and somehow embedding itself just below the duck’s bill.

The creature let out an enraged squeak, and withdrew in an instant, deflating tentacles dropping Ford down on the dock. As Stan rushed to his side, he managed to set up and rub his ribs.

“I’m alright,” he assured Stan. “Nothing a few alien healing-packs can’t fix.”

Stan just sighed. “You fight one of these things before or what?”

“Yes, a slightly smaller one found its way to the lake in Gravity Falls somehow back in ‘78. Just be grateful we didn’t meet its close cousin, the Hawktopus.”

“Why? What does it do, just fly away with the world’s most reckless geniuses before their brothers can save them?”

“What? No, they’re actually quite harmless. Just objectively the stupidest creature in this dimension, and the screech they make gives me headaches.”

Stan groaned. “Way to miss the point, Poindexter. Can you just, I dunno, try and be a little more careful next time? Eventually you’re gonna run out of alien drugs to fix your broken ribs and I’m gonna run out of dumb luck to save you with the first place.”

Ford narrowed his eyes. “Stan, with you, nothing is ever random dumb luck. You’ll always find some way to rig the universe in your favor.”

“You’re changing the topic!”

“Alright. I promise.”

***

For a month or so after that, nothing particularly odd happened — at least, nothing more out of the ordinary than anything ever was for the Pines. Yeah, the weather was miraculously much nicer than forecasted when they sailed down to California to see Dipper and Mabel for the holidays, and yeah, Stan beat a bunch of selkies at poker without even needing to cheat, but those were just a couple of coincidences. The same went for the Stan O’ War II escaping unscathed from so many monster attacks — it was just dumb luck, and as welcomed as it was, it would run out sooner or later. Right?

But when Stan and Ford went wandering through a winding maze of caverns in search of treasure, things got odd, unusual, and statistically improbable once again. First it was Stan tripping and finding the entrance by complete accident, then it was their flashlights holding out for hours without needing to change the batteries, and then it was the slow realization that no matter how many times they had to choose from one of several branching paths, they never seemed to hit a dead end.

That was, not until they squeezed out of a particularly cramped tunnel and found themselves in a high-ceilinged room, crystals on the walls glimmering and an ancient-looking treasure chest waiting for them on a stone pedestal, just like something out of the most fantastical adventure story.

“Holy Moses!” Stan exclaimed, practically sprinting across the room to get a better look. “This baby looks like it’s made of real gold!” He gave the lock a shake, and began to lift the heavy lid —

“Stan, no!” Ford shouted. “It could be —”

Stan opened the chest before he could process Ford’s words. “Holy shit, these look like real diamonds! Ford, we’re rich!”

He turned around, expecting to see an excited look on Ford’s face, but instead, he was met with an infuriated glare.

“You idiot! It could be cursed! You keep telling me to be more careful, but you — you might have just given yourself some fatal and incurable disease, for all you know!”

His voice grew uneven in a way that was distinctly un-Ford-like as he went on, and Stan realized he wasn’t so much angry as he was frightened on Stan’s behalf.

“Shit, I — I didn’t think. How do we know if —”

From his backpack, Ford pulled a simple black rod, and held it over the treasure chest for a few seconds until it lit up purple. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Alright. Alright, we’re… we’re safe. There once was a fairly powerful curse on this treasure, but it’s been… neutralized, apparently. Nothing but harmless magical residue here.”

“Ford, I’m so sorry,” Stan told him. “You’re right, I am a hypocrite. I just got excited about the treasure, and…”

“It’s okay,” Ford replied. “I… I sounded like I was angry at you, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to — I was just worried.”

Stan nodded, and a smile slowly spread across Ford’s face. “So what if we’re both idiots with no sense of self-preservation? That’s why we have each other.”

“Ah, you’re such a sappy old man,” Stan said, but he raised his hand for a high-six, and Ford obliged.

“I am curious how the curse was neutralized, though,” Ford pondered as he and Stan sorted through the haul of precious gemstones. “Assuming the spell was in effect when it was hidden, as is true for most treasures, it wouldn’t make sense for anyone to come down here and remove the curse but leave the jewels.”

He turned to look at Stan and rubbed his chin. “Unless you accidentally neutralized it yourself, somehow.”

“Ha, me?” Stan scoffed. “Look, Ford, I have a lot of weird talents, but magic isn’t one of them.”

“I’m honestly not so sure,” Ford replied, and with the poor lighting of the cave masking his expression, Stan couldn’t tell if he was teasing or serious. “We do seem to have experienced quite a streak of good luck lately, with everything from the weather to even finding these caverns in the first place…”

“Oh, come on! What do you think I am, some kind of walking good luck charm? Did one of my feet turn into a rabbit’s foot? Do I have four-leaf-clovers growing out of my ears?”

Ford snorted. “No, Stan, you’re right. I’m just looking for connections where aren’t any to be found.”

“Yeah, you don’t need to tell me that. I always just assume you’re overthinking shit until proven otherwise.”

“Touché. Now help me lift this thing and see if it fits through the exit.”

***

Stan was sitting at a table in a local restaurant, flirting with the waiter as he waited for Ford to get back from the restroom, when he noticed a man glaring at him from a few tables away. His hair was going gray and his face looked far more worn and beaten than Stan remembered, but the intricate serpent tattoo on his neck told Stan everything he needed to know — and none of it was good news, least of all not the other three equally rough-looking men sitting next to him.

Stan excused himself as quickly as he could and rushed towards the restroom, thankfully bumping into Ford on the way there.

“We gotta go, Sixer. We gotta go now.”

“What? Stan, what’s wrong?”

“Biker gang,” Stan hurriedly exclaimed, pulling Ford by the arm as they headed for the exit. “Really bad history. No time to explain.”

“I do have a gun on me,” Ford whispered as soon as they were out the door of the restaurant. “Worst comes to worst, I can —”

“Yeah, and there’s four of them, and they’re all gonna have their own guns. I don’t like your chances. We gotta make a break for the boat.”

Ford grunted his agreement as he broke into a run besides Stan.

“Pinefield!” a low voice bellowed from the direction of the restaurant. “We just want to chat!”

Stan didn’t dare turn his head around to look, but he heard the sound of several motorcycles being revved in the distance —

And then, a sudden and jarring boom just like a clap of thunder, followed by a string of curses that made Ford’s alien swears look uncreative. Stan didn’t need to turn around to know that someone’s engine had just failed in incredibly spectacular fashion, and that he’d just dropped a lot lower on the list of the gang’s priorities.

He looked at Ford, only to find his brother staring back at him with the same unspoken question clear in his expression — did you do that?

***

“Ha! Natural 38 again!” Stan cheered gleefully, sending sheets of graph paper flying as he smacked the table. “It’s over, ya stupid dragon of vector cross products!”

“Yes, that’s quite impressive,” Ford murmured as he scribbled notes down on a page hidden from Stan’s sight. “Are you sure you aren’t cheating?”

“Seriously? You still don’t trust your own brother not to rig the dice? Honestly, Ford, I’m starting to think you’re just jealous about me being better at your nerd game than you are.”

Ford frowned, and picked the D38 up off the table gingerly, as if it was some sort of scientific specimen. “Actually, Stan… I ask because I weighted this die. To favor lower numbers.”

“Who’s the smart twin now — wait, what?”

Ford placed a piece of graph paper in front of Stan, listing all his rolls from the night’s session. “And yet, you’re still scoring consistently higher than random chance would suggest even for a normal die, much less a rigged one. Something’s going on — something not just abnormal, but supernaturally so.”

“Wait, you’re serious about thinking I’m some kinda magic good luck charm? How — how would that’ve even happened in the first place? I —”

Ford frowned. “Well, it’s debatable if it can really be called luck when it’s something that happens consistently and with an identifiable cause — but for simplicity’s sake, yes, that’s what the data seem to represent. Though I suppose there’s always a miniscule chance of it having all been truly random…”

“Again, Ford — how does something like this even happen? Because trust me, this definitely hasn’t been going on my whole life. I woulda gotten kicked out of a lot more casinos, for one thing — not that I didn’t get kicked out of a couple anyways.”

“I have no idea,” Ford told, and then hurriedly added. “Although for the record, I don’t think it’s a Bill thing. Good luck is the complete opposite of what he would cause, even if he did come back…”

He snapped his fingers. “Except, this might be the result of Bill’s death itself, rather than his continued existence! Maybe, because you destroyed a demon, you have a sort of aura lingering about you that wards off harm and evil!”

Stan snorted. “And lets me kick your ass at dice games?”

“Well, maybe it just gives your general luck a modifier of sorts. Hold on, I have an idea.”

Ford stood up from the table to rummage around in one of the boat’s closets, and pulled out the black rod he’d used to check over the treasure chest. “I’ll admit I’ve never actually used this on a person, but I can’t think of any reason why it would be inaccurate. You should hold still just to be sure, though…”

He held the device over Stan’s head for a moment, and then lowered it so Stan could see the results. From end to end, it had lit up light blue.

“Protective magic, and a highly powerful form of it, too. No wonder the curse on that treasure got neutralized instantly. It’s confirmed — you’re a walking ward against bad luck.”

For a moment, they both just let the silence hang in the air. It felt like the type of realization that should have a certain degree of gravity to it, the type of thing that would seriously alter one’s worldview… but at the same time, they’d both seen weirder.

“Huh,” Stan finally said. “Well… what do we do now?”

Ford shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe go get kicked out of some casinos?”

“Hey, we should go someplace where there’s a bunch of different ones, like Vegas, and have a race to see who can get kicked out of the most in one night!”

“That hardly seems fair, what with you being magical and all.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always bragging about getting kicked out of the gambling dimension for counting cards! I wanna see how good you really are.”

“You know what, fine. But all this little race has as a prize is bragging rights; I’m not doing anything for you when you magically coast to victory!”

“Deal?” Stan asked, raising his hand for a high-six.

“Deal!”

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stanford pines #stanuary #rosalia writes fic

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dcarevu · 5 years

Text

Batman TAS: Dreams in Darkness

“Isn’t that why I’m here? Because I’m…disturbed?”

Episode: 28 Robin: Yes (Hallucination) Writers: Judith Reeves-Stevens and Garfield Reeves-Stevens Director: Frank Paur Animator: Studio Junio Airdate: November 3, 1992 Grade: A

Arkham Asylum sucks, doesn’t it. BTAS makes it pretty unclear whether criminals escape or get released most of the time (legally or illegally). But sometimes we are given an x-ray of the inner-workings, and it pushes away any hope that Gotham City has a way of cleaning up its reputation. The last time we had an episode featuring the Scarecrow, we found out that the Scarecrow was supposed to be contained, but a sketchy guard was hiding the fact that he actually was not in his cell. I’m not sure how long that charade could have been kept up, but for the Scarecrow, I doubt that mattered too much, right? Ironically, though, you would think the last thing an escaped patient would want to do would be to wear their infamous costume, stay in the same city, and cause a lot of recognizable trouble in an area as public as a college campus, but we are not exactly dealing with the sane here… This time, only a few episodes later, Scarecrow has somehow gotten out of captivity again. But instead of going all trick-or-treat at sports games, he opts to keep his activities hidden in the shadows below Arkham. There is an old George Carlin routine where he explains how theoretically, living next to a prison ought to be fairly safe. After all, an escaped prisoners are certainly not about to hang around, they’re going to get as far away as possible! Scarecrow may be crazy, but he also seems to be quite intelligent. He was a college professor as some evidence. He probably knows that one of the last places the police would look for him would be under the floor boards. And even here, he hides in the dark, giving orders from the void we so often see cloaking our characters on this show. On top of this, he speaks with a much more menacing voice than before, and at first I thought it was a different voice actor. But no, it is still Henry Polic II. Andrea Romano must have figured out how to actually make the master of fear the least bit intimidating, and it’s about time. Scarecrow for some reason took a while for them to figure out, with him being incredibly goofy in his first appearance, merely spooky in his second, and now incredibly sinister-seeming. Even his mask-design is ever-so-slightly different, although the difference in effect is negligible. What I appreciate more is the difference in his body and posture. Nothing to Fear portrayed him as moving in a very floppy, bouncy fashion, like a Scarecrow might in a little kid’s “Happy Halloween” cartoon special. His body now is angled quite nicely, and he almost stands the way a living corpse would. I’m glad Scarecrow went out on a high note, for the most part (as this is his last major appearance in Batman TAS). Don’t worry, that does not mean that this was his last major appearance in the DCAU!

When the episode starts, we do not know that the Scarecrow will be involved. We get a shot of some Arkham employees talking about a “new patient” who was experiencing some hallucinations. When the cell door is opened and the lights are turned on, we see that it is Batman of all people! When you are not even a minute in, and this is what the episode brings us, it’s like, “Wait. What the hell happened off screen before the show started exactly??” The show immediately plays with our expectations, setting up a mystery and leaving us unsure of whom to trust. We’ve been with Batman for 28 episodes now (plus a pilot), but we also know that he is perhaps not all mentally there, much like so many of his foes. Witnessing him bound in a straight jacket and being treated by doctors is hardly outside the realm of realistic possibilities! But we also know that something screwy is certainly going on, and the way the doctors talk, it’s harder to trust them then it is Batman.

Batman desperately attempts to explain what is going on to the doctors, and asks them if they contacted the people they were supposed to contact, but all he gets as a response is, “He needs more time. See that he’s not disturbed.” GAAAHHHHHH. Pet peeve! I hated as a kid when I would try to explain something, yet no one would take me seriously. It’s infuriating! The doctors act like they care and they are there to help, but ultimately, them listening to what Batman is saying is all an act! They are not hearing the supposedly sane words that they want to hear, so Batman’s garble is meaningless. That has got to be so frustrating, especially given the fact that Batman is trying to save the city from an underground threat!

After this scene, we get some narration done by Batman himself, and this subtly lets us know that, no, we didn’t miss anything, and that it will all be explained by the end of the episode. Batman narrating is also super badass. It would have been real easy to make it cheesy, but Kevin Conroy knows how to deliver. The narration also assures us that Batman is not the crazy one, because his words sound confident (despite showing deep distress) and they make sense. He isn’t talking like a crazy person would talk. We are about to do something that those doctors were not willing to do, and that is hear him out. The narration leads us to a flashback scene (with an awesome music score) where Batman attempts to stop some thugs from messing with the Health Spring Spa’s drinking-water supply, but he ends up being exposed to this red gas that the thugs were going to pump into the pipes. A voice on the thugs’ communication unit also mentions that Batman is “right on schedule”, so we know that this gas was all-too deliberate. This hear helps us piece together the puzzle of why Batman could be locked away. It obviously has to do with the chemicals that he inhaled, but what are the details? And who is behind it? It becomes more obvious as Batman looks up at his screen during a flashback and sees the reflection of the Joker walking toward him. Turning around, he realizes that it is actually Alfred who was approaching. Obviously concerned, he sneaks into a doctor’s office and allows Dr Wu to examine his blood. Apparently the hallucinations are set to get much, much worse, putting him in a state of psychosis. This is where he understand Batman’s intensity earlier in the episode when talking to the Arkham employees. Not only does he need to stop Gotham’s entire water supply from being poisoned by this gas, but he has limited time before he himself goes completely off the deep end. And that brings us to perhaps the greatest thing about this episode.

In Nothing to Fear, we got some fear-hallucinations, triggered by Scarecrow’s toxin. And they were, well, nothing to fear, honestly. We got the image of Bruce’s father’s floating head, telling him that he disgraced the family name for a couple of seconds. It served the plot of the episode, but the weight of it wasn’t exactly felt. We got another one where Bruce’s father turned into a skeleton-like figure, but again, it didn’t do a lot for me. The hallucinations seen in Fear of Victory were a lot better, but they still weren’t the best of the best. Dreams in Darkness, though, this is the Pink Elephants episode. It’s the peyote-in-the-desert episode. It’s the Squidward in Clarinetland episode. The hallucinations that Batman experiences are incredibly intense for a show appropriate for children, the most intense one being the giant pistol that goes off, representing the murder of Bruce’s parents. This is accompanied by bloodcurdling scream from Batman that gives goosebumps. The sequence is incredible well-done, but there are several more that we get to experience. If you are into bizarro sequences in animation, this is the episode where BTAS did a bunch of them, and I would say it is worth checking out just for that. But add in some other great things like a good mystery, the Scarecrow at his best, some awesome atmosphere, etc, and it is extremely worth checking out.

The episode even managed to fool me at one point, despite having seen it before. There is a point where the doctors inject something into Batman to sedate him. I was thinking we were gonna figure out that the stuff being injected was actually more fear-toxin, and that they were working for the Scarecrow. But no, as far as I can tell, they were legitimate doctors, even if their competence wasn’t that high. Hell, they question why Batman would think that Scarecrow might have escaped, when just four episodes ago that very thing happened. Jeez, guys. Even if they were new doctors to the place, you’d think they’d be informed that Scarecrow is a slippery one. How can anyone have confidence that Arkham Asylum is a safe place for criminals to go?

The episode of course ends with Batman facing his fears and defeating Scarecrow. Scarecrow is no match for Batman in a physical fight, and it probably brings him back to the glory days of high school where jocks beat the shit out of the nerds (that’s a joke, I was a huge nerd/geek in high school who stood no fighting chance against anyone). I loved how every time Batman would suffer a hallucination or face a new, scary challenge, he would simply keep on trucking. He would get done going through something absolutely terrifying, then stand up and calmly move forward. It was a situation where Batman knew that he had no choice, and that if he didn’t do this, then it wouldn’t matter anyway. Gotham would be up the creek without a paddle. At least until the military got involved. He even put off his own treatment (which would put him out of commission for a couple days) until after the Scarecrow problem was solved.

Check it out if you haven’t! Of course, my words can only do the show so much justice, so take a look at this episode’s screenshots! Is this an excuse to stop writing? Maybe… I’m just tired of being behind on these blogs… I’m gonna try to bust out a few of them tomorrow. It’ll put a lot less stress on me…

Had to use the Blu Ray footage this episode. But it all looks pretty nice, so enjoy some high def!

A twist beginning can be just as powerful as a twist ending. We also don’t often see Batman in such a powerless situation. Like Bugs Bunny (but with a completely different approach), he always exudes a sense of control.

How do animators get this blur effect? When the camera shifts focus?

The lighting from the window is angled gorgeously. It’s also a shot that makes you wonder how the hell Batman is ever going to escape (Char gave me this insight).

It’s not every family cartoon where you see someone about to be drilled through the chest.

As the Joker suddenly appears as a reflection on the screen, we don’t get an dramatic music or anything. So when we see that it’s actually Alfred, it makes us feel almost as silly as Batman for worrying.

A pretty good shot of Batman’s face, but the rest of his body seems off to me. Also, this is our first time seeing Batman in-costume getting help from a professional like a doctor.

Well animated crash sequence, ending in a shot of the asylum as two doctors sprint out, heading for the crash sight. Great transition.

So as Batman talks to the doctors, I noticed that one of them refers to the Joker as Jack Napier. Is that his actual name in this show? Or is it merely an alias (and one of many?). No spoilers, I wanna find out through the episodes and comics!

Here is what the Scarecrow is looking like this time. Compare this to his last appearance:

His design is certainly shifting toward the more angular, streamlined look of future DCAU shows.

Is that sweat or a tear, Batman????

One of the hallucination-sequences that was so powerfully sad and ctreative (Char). Instead of simply leaving the gunshot to our ears, we see the tunnel they enter morph into a giant gun, and blood runs out of it. I don’t want to quite call this personification, but it is a very warped interpretation of what happened last night and it gives us somethin far more interesting than anything offered in Nothing to Fear where it was much more straight forward.

Scarecrow’s clock is very cute.

I like how they both look at each other after missing Batman with a traguilizer dart. Like, “Good going, Frank.”

Batman was trapped in a mental hospital where most of his arch nemeses are also being held. That has to keep a guy on edge. No wonder he’s having these particular visions. Robin and Alfred’s voice actors do a great job here sounding like evil versions of their normal selves. It’s all quite unsettling.

Look how great he looks!!!

This batarang moment was dope. Look at those two stills. This is Studio Junio, the same ones who animated The Underdwellers.

That’s all for this episode!

This show has the ability to make so many viewers feel young again. It’s no demetrite, but it gets the job done... Join us next time!

Char’s grade: A Next time: Eternal Youth

Full episode list here!

#dreams in darkness #dc animated universe #dcau #batman tas #batman the animated series #btas #scarecrow #arkham #arkham asylum

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reba-andthesides · 6 years

Note

Q 18, Q 36, I 6, Prinxiety?

Thank you for the prompt! This one was a ton of fun. It also… kinda got away fromme. I’m not very good at writing short things.

Q18: “What? NO! It’s a dragon!”

Q36: “Take one more step, I dare you.”

I6: First kiss

Word count: 2,400

(Pleasesend me a prompt)

–

It was midday in summer, the sun high in the sky, filteringthrough the green canopy of the forest and casting the path in mottled shadows.It was hot, a sticky humid sort of hot, but there was a soft breeze filteringthrough the trees that took the edge off. It was, actually, rather peaceful—completewith rampant wildflowers and the soft melodies of songbirds.

Virgil, however, was not pleased. He had no idea why he washere, trudging behind the (way too bright) glimmering form of his prince. Hissilver steel armor was shined to mirror quality and threw light around theforest with every step he took, no doubt scaring away any nearby animals. Eventhough Virgil was pretty sure they weren’t out hunting, it was still very annoying. Just like this wholeidiotic venture, and the man in frontof him.

Out of all the kingdom’s knights, Prince Roman had picked him to go on this wild-hair day trip andVirgil didn’t understand. As far ashe was aware, the prince didn’t even likehim! They were always trading insults back and forth (and boy was Virgilsurprised the first time he responded and there were no consequences), and theprince always went out of his way to complain loudly about Virgil when he wasin earshot. It was, frankly, infuriating.

It was all the more infuriating because his best friend, thecourt advisor Logan, insisted that the prince liked him. Of all the ridiculous notions…. Allegedly Roman’spersonal servant Patton always went to Logan to complain about it. If anyoneelse tried that, Virgil was certain they’d be subjected to an hour-longlecture, but Patton got away with it. It was rather endearing, honestly. Butstill, Virgil refused to believe the prince liked him. It was absolutelyabsurd.

(He daren’t get his hopes up.)

“Roman,” he called wearily, “Do you have any idea whereyou’re going?”

The prince pulled up short and turned to glare over hisshoulder, “Of course I do, Darkest-Knight!Have some faith!”

Virgil couldn’t help snorting, “In you, your highness?”

“Psshh,” Roman huffed, “rude.”Rolling his shoulders in his overly dramatic fashion, he set back off down thetrail. After a moment and a heavy sigh, Virgil started plodding along behindhim again.

They continued down the path for another hour and Virgil’sattention began to wane dramatically (although it wasn’t very high to beginwith). About the time he was seriously considering just sitting down and seeinghow long it would take to prince to figure out he was no longer behind him,Roman suddenly veered off the path with a dramatic exclamation. For a singlebeat Virgil froze, eyes widening in shock, before adrenaline coursed throughhis system, electrifying his nerves and activating his trained and honedinstincts. Roman disappeared around a bush and Virgil was off like a shot.

“Princey!” he yelled, unable to hide the anxiety in hisvoice, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Going on an adventure, of course!” the insolent royallaughed over his shoulder, “What did you think, Knightmare?” With a joyous laugh, he disappeared through a wall ofbushes, triggering a growl of pure frustration from his companion.

“I swear to god,” he hissed, plowing through where hisprince had disappeared, “if you get us lost—” Virgil let out a startled gruntas he collided with the prince’s impressively shined armor and stumbled back astep.

“Shhh,” Roman urged, grabbing Virgil’s shoulder and pullinghim forward to stand next to him. (Virgil would never admit it, but PrinceRoman was one of the only people who could get away with such a thing, and ithad nothing to do with his title.) Once Virgil had regained his footing andturned a glare on him, Roman leaned close and pointed into the distance withhis free hand, “Look.”

Forcing his irritation back (which he had an unfortunateamount of practice with), Virgil followed the sight line indicated by thesilver-clad arm. They were standing at the top of a rather large hill and atthe border of an expansive meadow. On the other side of the yellow and pinkdotted grass was a steep cliff face, towering up at least forty feet. It was allthoroughly impressive, and stunningly beautiful, but what Roman was pointingat…. Virgil let out a strangled sound from deep in his throat.

Halfway up the cliff face, a giant hole was hollowed intothe sheer brown stone. The hole itself was at least ten feet tall and twentyfeet wide, surrounded—especially below—by deep gouge marks that came in threes.Claw marks.

And inside thehole… Virgil could clearly make out a thick, long tail coated in shiny redscales. It was at least as big aroundas them and long enough that it dangled several feet below the hole. Deep inthe shadow of the hole itself, Virgil could just barely make out the glimmer ofsomething sharp and the outline of something frighteningly large.

“It’s a dragon!” Roman exclaimed as though he was merelypointing out a rare bird.

Virgil swallowed hard. “I can see that,” he agreed. It cameout evenly but pitched much higher than he had intended.

“C’mon! Let’s get closer!” the prince urged, the hand thathad been on Virgil’s shoulder dropping to his arm to pull him towards thefearsome beast.

“What?” theknight squeaked, “NO! It’s a dragon!”

“Where’s you’re sense of adventure, Sir Virgil?” Romanteased, continuing to pull him out into the meadow and down the hill.

“Nonexistent!” Virgil hissed, “I’m Virgil the Vigilant, you doofus!” Frustrated, hecaught the hand on his arm and pulled sharply, effectively throwing the princeoff balance and stalling his forward motion.

The prince groaned dramatically, “You’re no fun.”

Virgil glowered at him. “If you wanted fun you probably shouldn’t have brought me,” he spat, “Now, comeon, your highness, let’s leave thescary dragon alone so it doesn’t roast us.”

Roman blinked owlishly at him. “Virgil,” he started, anunusual note of hesitancy in his voice.

“Roman,” he growled back.

The prince heaved a sigh, “Come on, please? I promise to becareful, but how often do you get to see a dragon this close?”

“No. Absolutely not,” he refuted firmly. “How did you evenfind out about it?”

Roman shifted a little uncomfortably, enough out ofcharacter to rouse Virgil’s suspicion. “Thomas… may have mentioned visiting the local dragon last time he touredthe North…” That made sense. Roman was always soaking up his older brother’sstories like a sponge. But, really, in whatworld was this a good idea?

The knight sighed and pinched his nose. “Why me?” he almostwhispered, meaning it as a rhetorical question.

“Because you’re the most fun?” the royal offered after abeat of silence.

Virgil pulled his hand away from his face and gave him anincredulous look, “You just said I’mno fun.”

Roman let out a frustrated noise, “I didn’t mean it.”

“Then what do youmean?” he threw his hands in the air.

“You…” he trailed off. “I guess, you’re more fun because you don’t do everything I want.”

Virgil blinked at him, stunned, “Oh.”

“I feel like I actually know you because you’re not always…”his face twisted as though he had tasted something sour, “trying to suck up tome or something.”

Virgil snorted, and Roman grinned at him. “What, Princey, youmean you don’t like politics?” theknight pretended to be surprised even though he was already well aware of thefact. It was a tad more dramatic than normal for him, but the widening of theprince’s grin made it completely worth it. (It was as brilliant and expressiveat the man himself, and it easily out shone his armor, and… shit, he was so screwed.)

Virgil felt himself flushing red and cursed his palecomplexion with everything he had. To make it worse, Roman was examining himcarefully, smile still in place, and his eyes were widening. Mortified that theprince had noticed, Virgil struggled futilely not to blush deeper. Roman openedhis mouth to say something but he never found out what because, at that verysame moment, a bone rattling roar echoed from the cliff face.

The pair whirled around to face the hole, finding thecrimson dragon half-hanging out of its cave and glaring down at them withglowing gold eyes. Its mouth was open, a wisp of flame licking the edge of itssharp teeth and smoke pouring from its nostrils.

In perfect synchronicity they took a step back, eyeing thecreature as it lashed it’s tail and caused a clatter of stone to echo fromsomewhere deep in the cave.

“Roman,” Virgil started, blindly reaching for the princewith the intention of dragging him out of there. Before he could do anything,however, Roman shocked him by drawing his sword and stepping in front of him.

“Stay back,” he commanded, voice only shaking a little.

The dragon snarled again and threw itself from the cave,landing with a great thump on the ground about a hundred feet away and causingthem the scramble back several more feet. Roman had a hand stretched out behindhim, as though he meant to blindly herd Virgil to safety.

Virgil was so very stunned by the action that he didn’tthink to do anything until the prince took a determined step forward. For thesecond time that day, adrenaline shot through his system but this time, withsuch clear and present danger, he was not simply annoyed. Roman made to take another step forward and the knight letout a furious sound.

“Take one more step,I dare you,” Virgil snarled,bringing his prince up short. When Roman shot a startled and frightened lookover his shoulder, Virgil moved closer to the idiotically brave man and raisedan unimpressed eyebrow, “I don’t need a hero, Roman. I need my prince. So, get your ass back here so wecan do the smart thing and run away.”

Roman let out a startled laugh, “Right. Good call.” He tooka step towards his knight and glanced back at the furious dragon. “Now?”

“Now,” Virgil confirmed. A moment later they dashed for theforest together, the roars that echoed behind them only spurring them on. Theybolted full tilt into the foliage, dodging bushes and ducking branches,skidding across loose dirt and stumbling over roots. They kept running untilthey were panting for breath and the sounds of the dragon were lost to thedistance. Only then did they slow to a trot, then a walk, before coming to astop in a small clearing and bracing themselves on their knees, sucking in airlike they were drowning. Before they had fully managed to catch their breath,their gasping turned into chuckles, then breathy laughs. Soon they were leaningagainst trees, holding their stomachs and laughing so hard they cried.

“That,” Virgil gasped, “was… the stupidest… thing I’ve ever…seen you do.”

“Shut up,” Roman gasped in reply, “You will… tell no one…of this… ever.”

“Sure, Princey,” he choked on another chuckle, “sure.”

“Treason,” the prince declared weakly, sinking onto a fallenlog.

Virgil gave an amused snort and dragged himself the few feetto sit beside him. For the next few minutes they sat in comfortable silence,regaining their stamina and reveling in their near-miss. Virgil wasn’t certainexactly when, but at some point they had leant towards each other and he nowhad his armored shoulder firmly pressed against Roman’s own ridiculously shinyone. It was… comfortable.

“Hey, Virgil?” Roman asked lowly below the songbirds’ tunes.

Virgil turned to meet his eyes, “Yeah?”

“Thanks for saving my hide back there,” he gave the knight asoft smile, “I’m not sure what I’d do without you.”

Once again, Virgil cursed his stupid pale skin as he felthimself flush. “It’s no problem,” he muttered, “Can’t have you dying on me, canI, Sir Sings-a-lot.”

“Yeah,” the prince agreed softly. After a moment, Virgil realizedthat he –the prince– was blushing too, and his eyes went wide. Whathe was seeing made no sense, whatsoever. Why was Roman looking at him like that?

As though watching an outside event in slow motion, Virgilproceeded to register Roman raising a gloved hand to his face and brushing(feather light, barely there) a strand of hair off his temple. The soft leathertraced his jaw and came to rest just below his chin; Virgil inhaled sharply,heart stuttering in his chest. This was… impossible. And wonderful. Virgilwas certain he was seeing things wrong, but there was no way he was going torisk breaking the spell and stopping… whateverit was that was happening.

Unusually hesitant, Roman swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing upand down, and eyed him carefully, gaze tracing every aspect of his face. Hespent what felt like an eternity sitting there, gently brushing Virgil’s jawwith his thumb and examining the knight’s every reaction, but finally he found whathe was looking for and began, ever so slowly, to lean in. Virgil stared intohis deep hazel eyes, their richness and utter emotion wrapping around him likea spell and pulling him in like the force of gravity itself.

The first press of lips was soft and cool and sent tingles upand down Virgil’s body, leaving him gasping and pushing impossibly closer. Hetilted his head slightly, causing Roman to gasp against his mouth, and hegrinned slightly. Roman’s other hand found its way into his dark hair, the handon his jaw dropping to rest against Virgil’s breast plate. Virgil, in turn, foundan arm wrapping around his prince, the other moving to rest against his thigh,and was startled by how well they seemed to fit against each other.

It was more than he could ever have hoped for.

After kissing (and kissing and kissing and kissing), they cameup for air, gasping for an entirely different reason than before. A brilliantgrin broke across Roman’s face, leaving Virgil grinning dopily back, and hechuckled lightly, “I so owe Patton.”

Virgil was sure that’d probably mean something to him in aminute, but for now… For now he was content to simply enjoy the strange warmthsitting in his chest.

–

(Pleasesend me a prompt)

#reba writes #ask #prompt request #jlyk im kinda crazy so #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders

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