#and not something like oh it's Hyde directly controling his body

[h7jfangirl]

TGS UPTADE (Chapter Cover) ✨🎩

I love this one, I think it's my favorite cover until this point.

Jekyll has his old outfit I LOVE THE REFERENCES

Guys, ITS THE OLD DESING GUYS.

When I saw this cover, my first thoughs of it weren't the most pessimist, really

The colors are soft and lighter, and the place looks beautiful and peacful, it gave me nostalgic vibes but I mostly felt... Comfort

So I though this chapter would be the star of the final redemption arc of Jekyll's and Hyde's relationship, the chapter where all their fight would finally end for good and start to actually accept themselfs and work together as a team

I interpret Hyde's expression as a "Wait what!?" Reaction to actual self-love coming from Jekyll, and read the name of this chapter as something of "We are a team! We are together in this! So if one of us goes down, we are going down together! I would never ever leave you alone!" Like a thing of friendship or Brotherhood even.

But after reading the Comment Section in the page, I finally notice that something was off in the cover, a simple detail telling that this may not be a 'end of the conflict' type of chapter

And that simple detail...

It's Jekyll

I really hope he goes insane in this chapter, like ACTUAL insanity, I love when a calm character goes through a 'madness arc' and sadly I don't see it often so I WANNA SEE SOME GOOD SHIT.

Jekyll is grabing Hyde's clothes very strongerly, you can feel the anger on his grabing and how close he puts his face towards Hyde's.

His body says "I'm about to kick this asshole's ass"

But the thing is that he is also... Smiling. You can't see his eyes but there is a shadow on them that you can tell something it's not okay, something it's wrong with Henry but not in the "Poor victim" type that we always had see him before, on the whole comic

But in "This man is dangerous" type

So, with that grin and his body looking agressive towards Hyde, you can said Edward may be in danger in this chapter.

Predictions~

Now, everybody agrees that the place we were shown it's actually part of Jekyll's mind, a memory actually. So, I think that somehow Jekyll and Edward will both go inside their memories, to see what were the events that lead them to this specific moment

Maybe with Frankestein's help, in a intent of her to understand the experiment's true nature, also trying to help Jekyll and Hyde to they can finally understand it too (THEY ARE TAKING A THERAPY SESSION TO A WHOLE OTHER LEVEL)

Or

They go both inside their own memories because the transformation got worse, and now their body is unconsious, so it would be only Jekyll and Hyde alone inside their mind, finally being able to stand in the same room at the same time, and netheir of them knowing what will happend outside, now that Frankestein knows their secret and the mob it's still out there

So of course, Henry wouldnt have someone who could help him and calm himself, so he is blaming Hyde for the situation as Hyde avoiding the accusations and also blaming Henry too. The rest of the chapter would be about them looking at their memories and reflecting about their actions

But of course, I can imagine two final scenarios happening, based on the scenario shown on the cover actually happening. They finally go together to see a old memory, and they are both close to the cliff, seeing the place

So, Henry finally has the conclusion of blaming Hyde for all the situation, and snaps angst him, deciding to end this just right there, now that he is able to touch and feel Edward's skin as if he had his own body, as a another person he can fully touch

So there is two options:

Jekyll's grabs Hyde's clothes and makes both of them jump to the water, accepting the death as a end but making sure to drag Hyde with him as well, so it feels actually worth it. Of course this being a moment similar to Hyde's ephifany when he is told that he could take down Jekyll as well.

But of course, in this case we'll see Jekyll's perspective to this words "Taking you down with me" (I love how similar they are, even if they turned out to be so different from each other, somehow they are still the same person)

Or, there is this other option. Jekyll actually dosen't jump to the cliff but instead, he shove Hyde to the cliff in a intent of murder him, being mostly like a metaphoric suicide rather than a direct one (Because they are the same person after all). The reason why Jekyll is also jumping in the cover may be a symbolic jump as "Going insane/Jumping the cliff of sanity" for doing something so brutal that the normal and sane Dr Jekyll wouldnt do... Push a person on a cliff, to kill them. So not only this would be a intent to kill Hyde but at the same time accidently murder the person he used to be, the good Dr Henry Jekyll

(Jekyll also jumping can be more like of "how he feels" rather than something literal, he feels atrap and his only company is Hyde, and I dare to say he is the person Jekyll hates the most at this point).

Of course, in any scenario, nethier of them would actually die (yet) because there is like two chapters left to finish this comic, duh

But I like to think about the Second Option. Because it could also explain those spoiler images Sage share in their social media a while ago

There it was another one with Jekyll with a lot of bottles around but I couldn't find it.

Because I think it would fit in. After pushing Hyde on the cliff Jekyll goes out and takes back the body's control and fix the angry mob problem, thinking he has done right in killing Hyde, when actually you can see that he dosen't has his normal eyes anymore but now has Hyde's bags in him (Of course, it could be for the fact that he climp up the society to get in the roof, but I don't think he would like to being seen very tired) meaning that Jekyll has change, in a more hyde-like way. Hyde is not death, and Jekyll's actions will have more consequences, as long they keep fighting each other there will be no end to their problems.

So, this is the tgs UPTADE. I like everyone in the fandom started to make theories like crazy and I love every single one of them.

Sorry for my bad english hehe bye~

#he used to #the glass scientists #tgs jekyll #tgs #tgs update #tgs hyde #sorry for my bad english #henry jekyll #tgs laynon #I want insane Jekyll so baaaad #and not something like oh it's Hyde directly controling his body #no I want Jekyll just Jekyll damnit #I think it would be cool if in this point we start to see how Jekyll and Hyde would slowly swap their roles #not only in their personalitys but fisically #as Hyde realising the depth of his actions he starts to look more like Jekyll (Like before Henry made the formula) and #as Jekyll starts to losing it he eventually looks more like Hyde #so basically #they slowly turn into the other #but of course they keep their original colors #so the finally showdown would be them facing their worst and best treats and finally accept every aspect of themselfs #of course I imagine Hyde acting more sweet and soft as a Jekyll #and Jekyll being actually more sinester and elegant as a Hyde #like they are still themselfs somehow but now with the other aspects of their personalitys #the good and the bad ones duh #they both have flaws so yeah I think that can work

[nik-the-bik]

Henriel Week Day 7: Alternate Ending

"The Fate of Your Soul"

Summary: A "What if Hyde didn't end up dead and Utterson spoke to him after finding everything out?" scenario

Last entry of Henriel week and I am once again thanking @corvidayyy for putting this together because I had too much fun planning these

****

Utterson squeezed the bridge of his nose as he fought off the pain and exhaustion of everything that had happened tonight.

Poole’s arrival, listening into Jekyll’s cabinet, breaking down the door, and the awful, terror infused screaming of Hyde pleading for mercy as the two charged in, pinning him to the ground as a vial of some substance clattered to the floor, the man writhing beneath them.

He didn’t think he would ever be able to escape the echoing shouts of “Not you! Not like this—please not you!” that had made his blood run cold as he called out to Bradshaw to summon the nearest policemen.

By the time the police arrived, Hyde had entered full hysteria, gasping sobs melting into unhinged laughter in a way that was overwhelmingly pitiful, if Utterson only but listened. To see the man struggle only tinged these feelings of pity with disgust. He did his best to keep his gaze averted.

And while his search of the cabinet hadn’t found Henry Jekyll, he did find the letters.

God, the letters. The information within them was all too much for his mind to process, and his head was hurting him worse than it had in years. When he had first finished Henry’s confessional, he had found himself sobbing—something that he probably hadn’t done in three decades. Too many conflicted feelings existed within him to make any sense of them, but as he composed himself with a hot cup of tea (with a healthy dose of bourbon mixed in), he brought himself to reading them a second and third time, desperate to understand.

After pouring through these pages, eyes burning from the strain of reading in the dim study, Utterson could understand nothing but a deep, deep ache in his very soul for the fate of poor old Harry Jekyll.

He pried himself out of his chair, desperate to do something—anything, but sit here for another moment with his thoughts. He turned to his coat and hat, still laying in a heap where he had tossed them after coming home, and prepared himself to step out into the brisk, dark air.

It was not long ‘til dawn when Utterson arrived at the precinct where they were holding Mr. Hyde.

After pacing the outside block a few times, Utterson finally steeled himself enough to enter the building where he almost immediately ran into a gentleman he recognized – the Newcomen who he had assisted during the Carew case. Thinking back to that time made his stomach turn anew.

“Ah, Mr. Utterson, good morning,” said Newcomen, looking tired himself. “I regret to inform you that there is no news yet of the whereabouts of Dr. Jekyll, but we have a full team dedicated to finding your man as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Gabriel muttered, peering around nervously. “But that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

“Oh?” Newcomen shifted, doing his best to hide his sudden burst of curiosity.

“I would like to meet with Edward Hyde.”

Newcomen laughed. “No need for that! We have everything under control with him, and before long his time before the gallows will be scheduled—”

“I insist, Inspector.”

Newcomen froze.

“I’d like to speak with him alone, sir,” Gabriel continued.

“-er---alone?”

“Why yes, of course. I’m acting as his legal counsel.”

“You—you—I'm -- sorry, what?” Newcomen was standing there, mouth agape, no longer showing any signs of fatigue. Gabriel, however, felt the exhaustion run deeper than it had before. He sighed, handed the officer his card, and asked to be shown into a private interrogation room.

As he sat in the small, cold, gray room, head in his hands, Utterson couldn’t decide whether he had made the correct choice in coming here or not. The endless ways this encounter could go were daunting, the wait unbearably long, and he suddenly found that he'd much rather be back home in front of the fire. Or in bed.

Utterson’s stomach sunk low at the sound of the door opening. Hyde was escorted in by a pair of officers, who forced him into a chair and chained his hands together and ankle to the leg of his chair. Utterson couldn't bear to watch—the whole proceeding making him nauseous. He kept his gaze on the floor as he waited for the policemen to finish. He gave a curt nod as they departed while they reminded him that they would be in the hall and at his full disposal if anything were needed.

When they were alone, Utterson finally let himself look directly at Hyde.

Before this night, Utterson had only ever seen Hyde on one other occasion. To see him now, it was almost difficult to say that it was the same man.

The Edward Hyde before him was a little taller, a little older, and much more pale and sickly than his previous self. There was also something much more feral about him, with the way that his eyes sharply dashed across the room, unnaturally tense and agitated. His body was tightly coiled inward, breathing shallow, like a snake preparing to strike. He could see his jaw working too, as though he was chewing his words before he allowed them to tumble out of his mouth.

“You, then?” was all that the creature before him managed to grunt out. His voice sounded much raspier too, raw from the screaming that had taken place earlier.

“Me.”

Another interlude of silence.

“Why are you here?”

“I would like some answers.”

“Answers to what?” Hyde asked, eyeing him suspiciously. The words were spit at Utterson like they were poison.

“I’ve read the letter. All of it. And Lanyon’s too.”

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know all. Henry Jekyll is gone. I can’t help you.”

“Are you sure, Harry?”

Hyde convulsed suddenly, looking as though he had been smacked. When he composed himself again, staring directly at Utterson, he seemed to soften, if only slightly. His eyes, darker than Henry’s, nonetheless held something in them that drew Utterson in.

“I’m quite sure. It’s a hopeless case. You’re pleading for a dead man,” Hyde answered, a little more gravity to his voice than the short, raspy whispers of before.

They stared at each other for another moment, Utterson desperate to find anything, anything at all that would connect the miserable creature before him to the man he used to regard as his dearest friend, his family, his—well—everything.

“Henry Jekyll was not one to abandon hope so quickly.”

Hyde laughed then, a sad, desperate cackle. “Really? Is that so? I guess you didn’t know him as well as you thought! You really think that after all this, after everything you’ve learned, that you even knew him at all? The Henry Jekyll you knew, the Henry Jekyll you WANT, is gone. In fact, he never existed. I’m all that’s left—the miserable, miserable testament to all his sin, his failure, and every twisted thing that he had always been all along. You’re wasting your time and mine, Utterson, and I have precious little of it left.”

Hyde shut his eyes then, turning his face away from Utterson, refusing to even look at him. Utterson was afraid that the pitiable hysteria of before—when they had found Hyde alone in Jekyll’s cabinet, would resurface. He could see that Hyde was restraining himself against some deep emotion.

Utterson brought his hand to his brow and groaned. It was too late, or early, and exhaustion was clutching him like a vice. He continued to watch Hyde, and that usual disgust that his presence typically inspired was beginning to wane, ever so slightly, the longer they sat with each other. Of course, he had to keep reminding himself who this man truly was in order to keep those feelings at bay.

Finally, “What are we going to do, Henry?”

Hyde sputtered. “We? I--”

“The eyewitness account doesn’t help us at all, and the fact that I had previously cooperated with the police to corroborate the testimony—”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“And it has been far too long since I’ve been involved in criminal law—”

“Utterson!” Hyde pleaded. Gabriel paused and brought his gaze back to Hyde. “You can’t, you can’t really be here to—”

“Have you forgotten my promise? I once promised Henry Jekyll that I would ensure Edward Hyde gets his rights, and that is exactly what I intend to do. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do anything to save you, but…”

Utterson trailed off. Hyde looked at him, dumbstruck. It was though he were finally considering the character of the man before him, and not instinctively assuming every man he faced was an enemy. Tears began to brim Hyde’s eyes again, and Utterson was on the verge of letting his own tears spill for the second time in over 30 years.

“Why are you doing this?” Hyde asked, voice trembling.

How to answer? There were so many things to say, lifetime's worth.

Utterson reached a hand across the table and grabbed hold of one of Hyde’s. The smaller man flinched and started to pull away but stopped himself. While it didn’t feel quite right to Utterson, it wasn’t the hand of Henry Jekyll, there was a bewildering comfort in it nonetheless.

“Because the fate of your soul is not sealed yet, but no matter where it goes, I refuse to let it go alone,” Utterson said.

The two sat there in silence, hands held tightly, as dawn broke in the cold London morning outside.

#henriel week 2021 #henriel #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #jekyll and hyde #doctor jekyll #henry jekyll #gabriel utterson #mr utterson #jekyll/utterson #jekyll and hyde fanfic #nikki tries to be a writer #this is why i ship this pairing btw #utterson would die for his friends and henry is like ''damn you're amazing you're the greatest''

[thestupidhelmet]

in your opinion what is the best, or your favorite, episode in each season?

I’m glad you phrased your question the way you did. My favorite episode might not necessarily be what I think is the best. I’ll try to give both if they don’t match.

Also, I don’t consider season 8 canon, so I’ll be skipping that one.

Season 1

Favorite: "Prom Night” (1x19).

Reasoning: Hyde’s characterization gets an overhaul. Now that his role as Eric’s villainous, selfish foil is ended, he becomes someone who sacrifices his own comfort, and even safety, to protect and help the vulnerable -- even if it’s someone he doesn’t personally like. He gains complexity and is shown to have a personal code of honor, a one-eighty from his depiction in the previous episodes. This character change/development is reconfirmed and deepened in “The Good Son” (1x25).

“Prom Night” also has the one Jackie/Kelso scene that actually moves me emotionally: their slow dance to “Freebird” while everyone else leaves the Prom. In that moment, I actually believe their relationship could evolve from the obvious love they have for each other. But Kelso ruins that potential by cheating on Jackie again the very next episode. 

Eric and Donna’s storyline in the episode is both funny and touching. Plus, Fez gets his moment to shine in front of his whole class while dancing with Gloria Gaynor.

Best: “The Pill” (1x17).

Reasoning: Donna and Jackie both take control of their bodies in this episode. The 1970s aren’t just window dressing (as they become during later seasons), but the episode’s story is still relevant today. Donna and Jackie’s friendship deepens -- and is directly stated as a friendship. Eric dislike of Jackie and loyalty to Kelso are thrust aside; instead, he’s protective of Jackie and wants Kelso to act responsibly.

Jackie breaks up with Kelso, having a moment of clarity, and chooses herself first (sadly, it doesn’t last).

Season 2

Favorite/Best: “Cat Fight Club” (2x25)

Reasoning:  I consider this season to be the best in terms of writing, characterization, humor, and consistency, so this choice is the best of the best.

This episode gives us the core or key to Hyde’s character. (Notice a theme here? *lol*). But the storyline shows Jackie beginning to integrate well with the group without Kelso -- and that the group’s loyalty to Kelso isn’t blinding or all-encompassing (at least here). It reveals Kelso’s cruelty and hypocrisy, depicts Jackie’s vulnerability and inexperience dealing with such cruelty, and Hyde teaching her how to protect herself. By doing so, he makes himself vulnerable to her by revealing his own self-protection techniques. This pays off (i.e. Jackie uses her knowledge of Hyde to reveal his true feelings) in “Jackie Bags Hyde” (3x08).

We also see in this episode Donna supporting Jackie and putting herself at risk during the scrap with Laurie. Eric expresses his approval and admiration for Jackie, too; as does Hyde, albeit differently. Jackie truly kicks ass in “Cat Fight Club,” literally and figuratively.

Season 3

Favorite: “Jackie Bags Hyde” (3x08)

Reasoning: Despite that the episode ends with Jackie not feeling any emotional connection with Hyde during their kiss, the rest gives us plenty of great development of Jackie and Hyde -- as individuals and as a pair. I’ve written plenty of metas about this episode, so won’t rehash the analysis here.

The Veteran’s Day BBQ war between Red and Bob is entertaining, as well, and gives us deeper characterization for Red, Bob, Eric and Donna. Red puts his pride aside to boost Bob’s, which desperately needs it. Red, like Hyde, can and will put his own needs and comfort aside to help someone who needs it.

Best: “Red Sees Red” (3x02)

Reasoning: The storyline of Red trying to keep his kids, including Hyde, from smoking pot and the conclusion where Kitty takes back the house is really well-written. It’s full of humor, character development, and depicts the dynamic among different pairings and groupings of characters.

Season 4

Favorite: “Donna’s Story” (4x08)

Reasoning: This was a tough decision for me. Many episodes of season 4 have elements I enjoy, like Red and Hyde’s scene in “Hyde’s Birthday” (4x23), but I chose “Donna’s Story” because it’s the one that gives me the most laughs. Donna’s and Eric’s stories are both ridiculous and over-the-top, but they represent each character’s POV accurately. 

Best: “It’s a Wonderful Life” (4x01)

Reasoning: The episode is a fascinating, and frightening, AU of That ‘70s Show (far more interesting than the AU that is season 8). Eric’s pain at losing Donna is palpable, but his choice to keep it so that he can keep his memories of their love, too, is incredibly moving.

Season 5

Favorite: “Black Dog” (5x09)

Reasoning: Even though Hyde’s character is retconned to having no ability to provide verbal comfort (“Red’s Birthday” [2x10] and “Kelso’s Serenade” are just two examples where Hyde is shown to give verbal comfort skillfully), he never gives up trying to cheer Jackie up. He confides in Mrs. Forman listens to Eric and Donna’s advice, and ultimately sacrifices something that gives him pleasure (i.e. his beard) so that Jackie knows she’s loved and that he’ll do what he can to put her first.

Best: “Going to California” (5x01)

Reasoning: It’s another episode that’s good from start to finish. The plot and humor arise from character. Although I wish Eric and Donna had actually dealt with what broke them up, it’s a problem that’s bigger than this episode; it should’ve been dealt with during the first three or four episodes of the season. Eric and Donna do have a lovely reunion in “Going to California,” however, and -- of course -- the reveal of Jackie and Hyde’s relationship is a wonderful culmination of four years of development.

Season 6

Favorite/Best: “Magic Bus” (6x03)

Reasoning: Eric/Donna, Jackie/Hyde, and Red/Kitty all get great storylines in this episode. Season 6 tends to force characters to serve plot and punchline instead of letting plot and punchline. This episode, though, is a prime example of how the most satisfying stories and humor arise organically from the characters’ personalities and feelings, their conflicts, and their choices.

Season 7

Favorite: “Oh, Baby (We Got a Good Thing Goin’) (7x18)

Reasoning: Season 7 is the beginning of the end. The choices made here led to season 8, and “Oh, Baby (We Got a Good Thing Goin’) is the last truly happy episode for Jackie and Hyde. We get significant scenes of them together as a couple, and we see that they truly enjoy spending time with each other, how well they know each other, and how well they fit together.

Their harmony is meant to stand in contrast to and reveal Red and Kitty’s disharmony at the car show, mainly for humor, but we get a preciously rare look at what Jackie and Hyde’s relationship is like without conflict and drama.

Best: “Beast of Burden” (7x04)

Reasoning: Plot and humor arise organically from the characters. Hyde is conflict over his loyalty to Red vs. his desire to build a relationship with W.B. Red ultimately makes the choice for him, showing his selfless love for Hyde. Jackie, too, expresses her unconditional love for Hyde (”If [working with grease] makes you happy, than I’m happy”).

Fez’s subplot isn’t great, but most episodes of season 7 are uneven.

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Jackie x Hyde #Red x Kitty #Eric x Donna #Ask #Anon #My Meta #My Essay #Meta #Essay

[afanoftheglassscientists]

The Glass Scientists Sunday Predictions

You know I’m surprised Sabrina kept the whole “Hyde is an illegitimate son” theory mentioned in the original, given how Jekyll’s not in his fifties in her version.  The idea of Hyde secretly being a half-werewolf sounds terrifying though.  I’m visiting family at the moment and last year they took in this BIG Labrador stray.  He has the energy of a puppy and the size of a giant.  He’s sweet but he could break every bone in my body if he wasn’t trained.  If Hyde really was a werewolf how many pieces of furniture would be torn apart?  How many poor souls would lose their delicate glassware?  Nothing would be safe from werewolf Hyde.  Nothing.

Anyway Lucy finally made the obvious suggestion to speak to Jekyll directly, which neither Rachel nor Lanyon seem to be keen on.  Gosh I wonder why?  Let’s explore that!

Tomorrows Page Predictions (Ch. 8, Pg. 3)

Lanyon and Rachel Don’t Want to Confront Jekyll Because...

Jekyll Will Find Out They Been Snooping - I don’t think its a stretch to say Jekyll finding out that Lanyon’s been snooping and trying to obtain info on Hyde behind his back would make Jekyll more afraid than betrayed, but Lanyon still doesn’t know why Jekyll would feel afraid so he assumes Jekyll will just feel angry at him and he’ll be granted the Worst Best Friend Ever Award if he’s caught.  

Confronting Jekyll Means Confronting Lanyon - Looking at the Will, Lanyon could justify away his snooping behind Jekyll’s back by theorizing that he’s just trying to help his best friend from being harmed.  But if he directly asks Jekyll and Jekyll proves he was never in any danger, well what excuse does he have left?  Can he really call himself Jekyll’s Best Friend if he so brazenly put his opinions over Jekyll’s out of what may have never been something to worry about?  He might have to rethink his role in how he treats Jekyll’s life as something he needs to have some sort of control over.  His reasons might not be as noble as he thought they were.

Confronting Jekyll Means Confronting Rachel - Didn’t think Rachel would get away scot-free did you!?  Rachel wants to see Hyde as completely innocent and special no matter what he may or may not have done.  So if she confronts Jekyll about Hyde and she hears the wrong answer, what then?  She might want to see Hyde, but that doesn’t mean she wants to know who Hyde really is outside of her own cinnamon scone version of him.  Its like you made a intricate lovingly crafted headcanon for years and then suddenly canon comes around and knocks you upside the head.  Even if canon makes more sense it still feels bad to see that your headcanon was just never in the cards...n-not that I would know how THAT feels.  Hah...haha...ha...

Jekyll’s Been Through Stuff And Confronting Him Might Mean Reminding Him - We still don’t know everything about Jekyll’s past.  We know he went through a bad spell of sorts, but we don’t know any of the details.  Perhaps Lanyon and Rachel are worried about accidentally bringing Jekyll back into that bad spell.  

Jekyll Knows how to Skirt Around Questions He Doesn’t Want to Answer - Both Lanyon and Rachel have known him long enough to understand what he does when he’s cornered.  Which is to say he’s probably gotten really good at finding the window behind him to leap out of.  It might be a little harder when the people cornering him are his closest friends.  So if Lanyon and Rachel let slip what they need answers for Jekyll’s solution might be to just avoid them altogether.  He’s very busy you see.  He has meetings.  And when he doesn’t have meetings he has a Frankenstein to care for.  And when Jekyll gets sick of Jekyll is done caring for Frankenstein for the day whoops he promised to assist Jasper in his presentation.  And oh dear if Jasper is with Rachel well he can’t bother the lovebirds better schedule some more meetings can’t waste time!  He might have a lot on his plate but he also has a lot of things to keep him busy and away from questions he doesn’t like.

That’s all I have to think of when looking forward to tomorrow’s page, but I’m going to leave you with an idea I thought of since reading Bleeding Heart.  What if Jekyll just decides he wants to be a werewolf?  Like, everything falls apart and his life is in ruins and eventually he just wants to frolic in the meadows in a faraway forest.  Of course if he ever rolled up his sleeves turned to Jasper and said “Hey you know what just bite me,” Jasper first response would be, “N-no?  No?  No.  No I’m not biting you sir.”  So he might not get his wish but still.  If we can have Werewolf Hyde mention then give me Werewolf Jekyll mention I say!

Have a good weekend!

#tgs Sunday predictions #tgs #the glass scientists

[insane-control-room]

Coherence

He really should have thought twice about doing anything that would have made the fusion mad. He already was emotionally unstable, he should have just been obedient and stayed by his side.

Anonymous - 29 = A reason that they lied to a friend

this story was in development before I got this ask, but it fits it very well :).

Chestnut is the fusion of @halfusek‘s joey magenta and @startistdoodles‘s joey hyde, and since there is not much on the fusion yet, I’ve made them as shitty as possible, though I love them :).

A drawing to go with it

Stand your ground, Johan steeled himself, bracing himself for the monstrosity he knew was to come. Don’t let him get past you.

He could not stop the squeak of terror that escaped his lips when Johan saw his shadow.

“Where are you,” he snarled, head slowly moving back and forth, a beast stalking its prey. Johan sucked in a breath as he watched him toss his knives ever so gently. “Come on out….”

“No,” he hated how his voice wavered and cracked. “You need to find me. We’re playing a game of… hyde and seek.”

The man growled audibly. Johan held his breath within his lungs, burning like fire.

“Enough of your shi-... silly puns!”

“Someone’s going nutty.”

“Johan! I’m going to-” the man caught himself, inhaling sharply, running a hand through dark brown hair. Johan closed his eyes tightly when he began to speak again, with such a beautiful soft tone. “Johan, come out here, I want to see you, Johan, sweetie….”

Johan grinned from his hiding place. Chestnut may have been clever, horrifically cunningly so, but not enough.

Magenta was too soft to give him a pet name.

It gave him a bit of determination, and a bit of fear.

The determination stemmed from the resolve that Hyde and Magenta were so closely merged that Magenta would not recognize him and he would be able to fight him without hurting them.

On the other hand, he had hoped to settle this peacefully, without anyone getting hurt at all, and he wanted to be able to reason with Magenta to calm the both of the fusion.

“I don’t want to have to do this, Johan,” the man that once was his friend and the other that had been his darling growled, more animalistic and bloodthirsty than Johan had ever heard. He trembled. He heard the sound of something charging up, and he realized what it was too late -- and the zap from the powersurge went straight to him. He would not be able to hide anymore, firstly from the literal bolt of electricity that had gone directly to him leading a path, and secondly from the scream that tore from him after the lightning shot through him, bouncing through his limbs, hitting each and every nerve in his body. Oh. So Magenta was there. Only he knew about that, the way electricity just seemed to strike him despite his location. The pain was unbearable, and he saw blackness pulse at his vision. Chestnut’s semi angered, semi sadistic, grin came into view. “Found you.”

He slowly, delicately, like a skilled hunter, picked Johan up by his wrist. His head felt heavy. He could make out the blown fuse behind Chestnut, clearly the one he used to shock him.

“This pathetic thing?” Chestnut paused and laughed. “This weak thing?”

Johan groaned in pain.

“Look at me, dear,” Chestnut purred, and Johan hated how volatile he was, how he could go from taunting him to demanding sweet nothings. He could not lift his head. “I said. Look. At. Me.”

A knife was pressed to the underside of his chin, dragging his head up.

“I thought you were on my side, and yet, you go off to darling Snowy and warn him of our coming,” he hummed, using another blade to gently trace over Johan’s skin on his face. A nick slipped against his cheek, warm blood beading out. Johan’s breath hitched. Magenta knew he was afraid of his own blood. Was Hyde doing this? Was Magenta? Were neither? Or, the worst, both? The knife on his chin shifted, resting him on the very tip. Breathe. He probably is not going to kill him. Breathe. “Dearest little Johan, do you forget who I am? You know me….”

“You’re neither of the men I care for,” he forced, putting as much venom into the words as he could, knowing what he was getting himself into. Another knife slit his shirt, right beside his pin, the cold metal pressed to the skin of his chest. Hyde kept looking directly at him, half closed eyed meeting Johan’s terrified ones. The icy blade turned ever so slightly, slowly pushing against his flesh, right between his ribs, like a butcher that knew exactly where to slice the sheep. Magenta flashed in those dark green eyes, followed by a rapid Hyde, then back to both. Johan’s eyes widened, getting the message. “O-oh god… no, please, I didn’t mean t-to….”

“Neither? Tsk, frankly, I’m offended,” the knife under his chin twisted, tugging at his skin. Johan moaned in fear, unable to do anything else, his arm numb from being held up by it, ink dripping and seeping into is clothes from the claw that restrained him, his toes barely brushing the floor, and yet they could raise him even higher with nary an effort to it. “Johan, do you really think I ever even entertained the idea of caring about you? Either of I?”

“I… I….” hoped. Wanted. Begged. Silently worshiped. Vocalized praise. Loved. Loved. Loved, adored, cared for, loved… did he still love them? Did he still want to sing Magenta’s name and poeticize his beauty and perfection from the rafters of the city, so all could know them? Did he still want to gently care for and be there for Hyde, be beside him on his worst days and help him get through them? Could he still love them? He hated himself for the answer, dropping his head. He did. He did, so badly. He would let them do whatever they wanted to him. His throat felt thick and he whimpered. “I know I’m not worth anything to you.”

A smirk slowly inched onto Chestnut’s lips, and he leaned to whisper in his ear.

“You are worth something,” Johan felt chills race over his skin as he swallowed roughly. “You are going to be worth your pathetic, delicious screams and cries when I rip your skin to bits. Every single peep will be so refreshing, a sweet toy that won’t fight back. I won’t kill you, dear Johan, oh no, we don’t want to ruin our wonderful toy, torn right to the brink, and left to heal up. Over and over, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, you masochist?”

“I’m not a toy,” he snapped, feeling anger seep into his thoughts. “I am not a masochist.”

“Oh, Johan,” the thing’s lips and teeth were right on the side of his neck. “So sweet, so naive….”

“I said I was sorry, for telling Snowy,” he was sorry for getting caught while telling Snowy. By the growing grin on Chestnut’s face, he knew that. Johan sobbed, feeling his tears scratch at his throat and eyes, sorrow welling up at not being able to protect either half of the fusion, only bringing more pain. “I’m s-sorry….”

“You’re not forgiven, darling.”

The knife twisted.

Johan breathed.

It was not harsh.

It was not eased.

He was just breathing.

His whole body ached.

He hoped Snowy got away when he warned him.

He hoped Gingie and many others were alright.

And he begged that Hyde and Magenta were not really in control of Chestnut.

He had too many scars for one so young.

They had not added any more, not yet.

Scratches here and there.

Nothing but superficial damage.

His arm throbbed, his wrist burned.

It was tied, tight, to something.

He could not tell what, his head hurt too much.

The door slammed open, a shuffling footstep entering.

Johan winced and curled up, whimpering.

“Good news, darling,” Chestnut murmured, so loud in the empty house. “I’ve found out where Snowy and Gingie are.”

“No!” Johan shot up, ignoring his pain, launching himself at Chestnut. The man smiled down at him when his shackles restrained him, hands outstretched to fight him. Johan struggled and strained against the metal fetters. Tears welled in his eyes. “NO!”

“Hush, Johan,” Chestnut sat to smoke, his long limbs sprawled over the armchair, lazily looking over the incapacitated man. Johan pulled harder at his bindings, gritting his teeth. Chestnut chuckled. “You’re not getting those off for a while, dear.”

Snap.

Chestnut’s eyes flew open.

Johan smiled, exhausted, at him, his chain dragging on the floor off the wall it had been lashed to.

“That’s a Joey’s biggest enemy,” he grabbed the chain, preparing to fight. “Comedic timing.”

“You piece of fourth wall breaking shit!” Chestnut roared, leaping to his feet, his cigarette falling from his fingers and extinguishing on the way to the floor. Yet before it even made it to the ground, the chain whistled through the air. Chestnut rose an arm to block it, it winding around said arm. Johan had the other end in his hand before he could blink, wrapping it tightly around his other left arm, yanking it over his head, tying off the last two arms together. Chestnut was slammed to the floor, knocking the wind out of him. “Johan! Release me right this instant!”

“No!” Johan protested, gritting his teeth. “YOU! Unfuse right this instant!”

“Unfuse?” Chestnut echoed in a grunt, still trying knock him off. “Whatever do you mean?”

Johan felt his breathing freeze.

They had forgotten themselves.

“H-Hyde?”

“From what!?”

“Hyde Drew, please, please tell me you’re in there,” he was shaking. No, he screwed up, not again, not again, he kept fucking things up…. No response. He sobbed. “Magenta? Please….”

The fusion beneath him was perfectly still. He got off of him. It was pointless. He fucked up again. He waited for them to stab him then and there. Instead, he just rose himself off the floor, staring at Johan. Johan, shaking, hugged him over the shoulders, buried his face in his hair, and breathed in their combined smell, ignoring the putrid ink.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, shuddering. “I’m sorry…. Maggie, please, I miss you… Hyde, you grumpy old man, I want you back… come back, please remember who you are….”

“Johan?”

“Yes...?”

Four arms wrapped around him.

Two and two.

They slowly separated.

Two for one, two for another.

“Johan.”

“Johan.”

He did not dare open his eyes.

“Johan, it’s me….”

“Maggie,” he sniffed, crying into his hands. “Please….”

Gentle, hesitant, choppy circles being rubbed on his back.

“Johan,” Hyde’s barely lower and more gravely tones were slow and deliberate. “Johan, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he murmured, relaxing against air, his shoulders slumping. “Jus’... I’m so tired.”

“Johan, we never would have hurt you if we were in control,” Magenta assured him, helping him to his feet and leading him to a bed, Hyde on the other side of him. Johan gripped them both. “What? You clearly have something to sa-”

“Never fuse again,” he breathed. “Not you two together, that is. You forced Gingie and Snowy into hiding, you nearly killed Felix, you attacked so many others, and you… you went directly after me… please never do that again.”

“Of course,” Hyde promised, his fingers crossed behind his back. Johan studied his face with his weary amberesque eyes. He closed his eyes, so tired… he wished he could sleep forever…. “We, I repeat for both of us, never would have done all that we had done if we were in control of ourself and knew what our actions where doing.”

“Okay,” Johan exhaled, putting no effort into his word. “I’ll sleep now….”

Magenta waited for him to fall asleep before going out to meet Hyde in the dining room.

“Well?” he asked Hyde, cocking an eyebrow. “Enough of a power mongering spree yet?”

Hyde scowled.

“You and I both know you were fully coherent,” he snapped at him. Magenta narrowed his eyes at him. “So don’t try to pin this on me.”

“You also were in control,” Magenta grumbled, keeping his angered tones low. “Don’t you dare blame me.”

“Oh, so what are we going to do?” Hyde rolled his eyes. “Keep up the lie that we lost ourselves in it? Oh, sure, that might fly by Gingie, but by someone more perceptive? I doubt it. Even Johan isn't an idiot. I’m certain that he’s giving us the benefit of the doubt, poor boy.”

“Poor boy!?” Magenta’s anger lashed out. “You’re the one that wanted to see how far we could push him!”

“You’re the one who provided the information on how to do it.”

“Listen,” Magenta pinched the bridge of his nose. “The important thing is that, no matter what, Johan never, ever, learns of our…you know. Our awareness. The fact we were coherent.”

“Agreed.”

They never did tell him the truth.

They did not need to.

He already knew.

He knew.

Johan knew.

#control art #control writes #angst #chestnut #joey drew #fusions #batim #bendy and the ink machine #tw abuse #lies #lying #staged amnesia #hyde drew #magenta #johan ramirez #johan is dying #other joeys mentioned #there is nothing good in this situation #verbal attacking #tw knives #queue pasa? #tw smoking #tw scars #batim fic #fic

[thattarotgirl]

Explaining The Death: Jonathan Tucker's Major Craddock in Westworld

I had had many reasons to intensely dislike TV series Westworld – which I still absolutely do – and only one reason to watch its second season. And so, I started the show again – for Jonathan Tucker. At this point, I’m fairly sure the only thing starring this wonderful man I wouldn’t watch would be a snuff film.

Somewhat morbid humor? Appropriate, given the fact that this post isn’t about how I got my imaginary degree in Tuckerology.

It’s about HOW TUCKER’S WESTWORLD CHARACTER, MAJOR CRADDOCK, REPRESENTS ONE OF THE MAJOR ARCANA ARCHETYPES – THE DEATH.

Interestingly, it’s the second time Tucker plays the Death. The first one was not too long ago, it was on Justified, and the name of the masterfully played (do I really have to add this bit, though?) character was Boon. Check it out, check the whole series, thank me later.

First of all, I have to warn you that I’m going to take my own, admittedly narrow perspective on the archetype. But I highly encourage you to familiarize yourself with other interpretations of this and other archetypes of the Major Arcana. Ultimate raison d’être of this blog is to inspire discussion about the archetypes we are influenced by, because by understanding them we can better understand our own inner mechanics.

So, what is the Death?

Let me start this by stating that the mainstream is full of examples of the Death. Here is just a handful off the top of my head: The Joker, Ramsay Bolton and Joffrey Baratheon from Game of Thrones, the Comedian from Watchmen, Alex from A Clockwork Orange, Mr. Blonde from Reservoir Dogs, Mason Verger from Hannibal, Simon Adebisi from Oz, Moriarty from Sherlock, Negan from the Walking Dead comics, Pavi Largo from Repo! The Genetic Opera, as well as Bart Curlish from Dirk Gently, Gazelle from Kingsmen, Mindy from Kick Ass, Elle Bishop from Heroes, and many others.

Can you already tell what do all these characters have in common?

“Murderers”? “Psychopaths”? True and true.

The Death is the embodiment of aggression, a creature that almost entirely consists of spontaneously directed destructive force. These power and aggression replace almost all the movement of the Death’s soul, all its values and feelings, just as acts of aggression become the Death’s responses to all possible life situations.

The very term ultraviolence was introduced to us by one of the Deaths.

And don’t get me wrong: The Devil, for example, can scuffle-torture-murder left and right, too, but it does it for self-assertion or self-expression, for fame, for money, in a fit of rage; killing without thinking about any gain is a prerogative of the Death. It tortures and murders not only to protect itself, to avenge or to earn reputation – the Death primarily does it to alleviate the boredom of being, so to speak. This is why the Death usually makes violence the basis of its professional activities, meaning that most of the Deaths are criminals, soldiers, assassins and so on.  

And, as any sadist, the Death always attaches great importance to the process of torturing/raping or killing. Snapping somebody’s neck, for instance, the Death would enjoy every part of it – the grabbing, the snapping, the crack, the limpness of the dead body in its hands etc. – all the different stages, the materiality of taking a life.

The Mage in low development, on the other hand, would appreciate the fact of its victim’s suffering as a result, but not the process of inflicting this suffering. The Deaths are fundamentally different from all other archetypes in that respect and others.

And where do these vicious creatures come from?

Usually, the Deaths do not choose to be the way they are – and this is one of the traits that help to distinguish them from, for instance, the Chariots – in most cases, the Death is a result of transformation of the Devil, the Justice, the Moon or the Star after being thoroughly frayed by fate. The damage and abuse it suffers frequently takes physical form – it’s not uncommon for the Deaths to even be symbolically or not so symbolically murdered (the Joker and his fall into the vat of chemicals is a classic example) and resurrected (and I’ll have to get to that again later).

Sometimes the Deaths are simply born under a bad sign, but then it’s usually due to some kind of medical/genetic experimentation or something in the same vein.

And it is true for our Major Craddock, too. He was created and programmed into being who he is.

And who is Major Craddock again?..

An android, or a host, as they call it in the universe of Westworld – essentially, an artificial creation designed to mimic a human being. They are used in the Westworld park as part of storylines, or narratives. They are there for the guests’ entertainment. So, Craddock plays the part of a military officer working for the Confederados. He is a first-generation host created in the Argos Initiative by Arnold Weber and Dr. Robert Ford, making him one of the eldest hosts in Westworld, maybe even outdating the park itself.

The first time you see him actually doing something is when the gang of Dolores Abernathy approaches him and his men because they want to join forces with their troupe against an unclear human force.

From the scene of their interaction you can probably remember some of the following details:

— Major Craddock’s stare of a mad dog, which you probably were as unprepared to see in  Tucker’s eyes as I was.

— How unmoved, almost entirely unimpressed Major Craddock is by the death and the rebirth of buried Lieutenant Dunleavy, as he coldly describes “three ounces of Mexican lead in his belly” and accepts the idea that his Lieutenant has been brought back to life with a simple “indeed”, which you can interpret not only as a lack of curiosity but perhaps also as weak emotional attachment to his soldiers, who absolutely deserve it for the lack of any individuality. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

— Something you could probably call hostile hospitality on Major’s part – I mean his eerie, almost theatrical politeness, which wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking that the man isn’t disrespectful and provocative.

— Maybe a couple of other things, such as Craddock’s sharp tongue, macabre humour, fluid movements, or how appetizingly he ate.

— Finally, the fact that Craddock refuses to accept the deal and states the only partnership that would happen would be the rape Dolores and Angela by him and his unit:

Craddock: “My final decision is which of you to keep for myself and which of you to throw out there for my men.”

In other words, demonstration of the dominant position by means of threats of violence.

Here you have it, ladies and gentlemen: the Death bingo.

Oh, and then Teddy shoots Craddock after his statement, but Craddock is brought back to life by a captured Technician. Spoiler alert, I guess?

I’m going to broach everything mentioned, but for now, I want to concentrate on the “eerie politeness”, because the Deaths in high development are almost always characterized by this insincere courtesy, and that for a reason I can explain to you.

In short: the elements Jung calls shadow and persona aspects of the psyche are swapped over in the Death.

Every other character than the Death, including very aggressive specimen, even the Devils, have socially acceptable Dr Jekyll (the Persona) and a repressed, socially unacceptable Mr Hyde (the Shadow) in them. For the Death, the Shadow is its normal, default state, because the archetype doesn’t have the same social needs as other archetypes. It simply doesn’t need to hide its feelings and desires in order to look “normal” – it doesn’t tolerate social conventions.

So, typically, the Death is a 24/7 Mr Hyde. It does have a thin coating of the Persona, but it only uses it on very special occasions, to deceive or to – paradoxically – appear even more intimidating than it already is. This is why Craddock’s attempts to be silver-tongued may cause you discomfort – in these moments, he is a crocodile smiling at you.

Importantly, all of this doesn’t mean that the Death is always a cutthroat that only thinks about torturing animals, burning buildings down, raping women and murdering men. Not at all.

Almost all of the Deaths are able to control themselves to some extent, but this control is carried out by the Animus, not by the Persona. How is this different? The Animus isn’t a social suit, meaning that it isn’t used to appear to others, it’s a personal moral fiber, something close to a codex that prevents the Death, who sees itself as a warrior, from turning into a butcher raping and killing everyone around.

Does this mean that the Devil’s transformation into the Death happens after its acceptance of the Shadow as the terminal state of its personality and almost full rejection of its Persona? Yes, it absolutely does.

By the way, the Persona of the Empress is the Anima, and that’s why the Death inevitably gets into conflict with the Empress as soon as they get in contact. Would you like to guess who Dolores is (confess, she reminds you of Cersei Lannister)?

So, yes, the fact that Craddock joins Dolores’s group as they arrive at Fort Forlorn Hope, where Craddock’s commanding officer agrees to help Dolores in the morning to defeat the incoming security force, shows us another aspect of the Death.

Even though, the archetype is mostly independent, it usually is guided or influenced – sometimes directly, by the Emperors and the Empresses, the Mages and the Hierophants, but more often by the mediators, like the Hanged, the Justices, the Devils or the Towers. (Left to itself, the Death either indulges in debauchery or spends whole days planning ideal crimes/operations and perfecting its murder skills, waiting for someone who will suggest a proper victim to appear.)

And in that respect, the Deaths, generally speaking, fall into two categories – those who end up aligned with the forces of order and those who are, as the Joker puts it, “agents of chaos”, respectively.

How are they different?

The Deaths on the side of order are ideal warriors and guardians of law, because they channel their destructive energy into annihilation of all those who they are told to kill. And the Deaths execute these orders for a two-fold reason:

First, their leaders symbolically embody their parents, since they take responsibility for their actions, which the Deaths greatly appreciate (I’ll get to it in a moment).

And second, the system they serve provides them with the concept of an enemy/victim, thereby relieving them of the need to choose their victims on their own. The Deaths are generally infantile, and many of them can’t or don’t want to – sometimes without realising it – make their own decisions. This makes them ideal objects of manipulation – they are loyal and sufficiently stupid.

The Deaths that are taking the side of the chaos usually become leaders/subleaders themselves, because it is much easier to destroy the world together with your henchmen than to try doing it in splendid solitude. Very interestingly, the henchmen of the Deaths are often marked by them (uniforms, masks, obligatory scarifications etc.), like zombies are marked by signs of decomposition, and thereby represent the extension of the Death’s physical influence.

(And the Deaths from the second category are usually smarter, there are even geniuses among them e.g. Moriarty from Sherlock or the Joker. These Deaths also tend to be more popular due to the disturbing combination of sadism, intelligence and cheerful attitude (we’ll get to that, too) – Negan from the Walking Dead would also be an example of the Death that is a loved strategist).

Is this true for Major Craddock? It is.

His troupe is shown as a splinter group, a gang with him as its leader. They do not appear to be motivated by any ideology, murdering, raping, marauding – in short, embracing outrage as normality. They’re just having what they hold for fun, like a pack of hungry wolves or perhaps rather mad dogs.

Dolores sums up this important characteristic of the Death in the following quote:

Teddy: “These men are animals.” Dolores: “These men are just children. They don't know any better. They need to be led. We don't stand a chance against the men coming for us if we're fighting alone.”

She uses a key-word I’d like you to remember. “Children.”

Mental age of the Death is always approximately ten-twelve years, which explains not just their easy relationship to violence but also a number of other of their typical characteristics – above all their inability - and usually unwillingness - to build a family or sustain a partnership (which is perfectly fine when you are talking about a reflective individual, but here we certainly aren’t).

Moreover, the Deaths are sexual deviants – paedophilia, bestiality, incest, you name it – everything that can certify perversity and lack of understanding of the concept of intimacy can be found here.

Roughly speaking, the Death is a preceding evolutionary stage of the Devil and the Mage – whereas the Mage is an adult with adult emotions, adult social standing and overall adult psychology, and the Devil is a typical teenager, the Death is a cruel and merry child.

And this easily explains why two possible negative transformations of the Devils are the Emperor and the Death – both of these archetypes are violent, but whereas the Emperor is a superhuman, the Death is an animal. To become one of them, the Devil has to get rid of everything humane in it and learn to see in people either ants below its feet or food. This evolution is a direct consequence of the resolved conflict of “the awkward age”: either you become an adult, or you regress into a child stage; either you reflect on your power and use it consciously or turn it into the defining element of your behavior. And like a naïve child it is, the Death hates to be tricked by heartless adults. At Fort Forlorn Hope, the Confederados are soon revealed to be mere pawns, as Dolores only needed them to distract the security force: once they are no longer useful, she has Wyatt’s followers brutally murder them. Craddock angrily vows revenge, so Dolores orders Teddy to execute him and his men: however, after Craddock taunts Teddy for simply following Dolores’s orders, Teddy lets them escape.

Just look at what he says:  

Craddock: “I been watchin' you. We ain't so different. You and I are both triggermen to tyrants. Except me, I know what I want. But you ain't even sure about that termagant you take your orders from. I look at you, and what I see is pathetic.”

Isn’t it the kind of devaluation a child would use? You may be pointing this gun at me, but you’re still a chicken! Na-na, na-na, boo-boo, we get it, Major. Alas, Teddy doesn’t. Most likely, he doesn’t understand whom he is dealing with here.

And right now you might be wondering whether you can identify the Death by looking at it.

There is no such thing as "prototypical appearance" when it comes to the Deaths, but many of them look racy, wear extravagant or simply expensive clothes (“Westwood!”), have prosthetics, bear scars etc., or can be vaguely attractive.

There are many characters of very specific appearance among the Deaths: they can have physical abnormalities (both innate and acquired) and various types of biomodifications or simply eccentrically approach their image. As a rule, this specificity is connected to their becoming of the Death – it can be both the reason of the transformation into the Death (e.g. a catastrophe leads to irreversible physical and psychological changes of the character) and the direct consequence of it (i.e. the Death changes its appearances as it enters the new phase of its life). I would say that it could be partially true for Major with his uniform, too, if we assume that it was the war which had made him what he is.

And right now you might be wondering whether this bit was an excuse to insert here a gif with Craddock shaking down his coat… I shall let you be the judge.

Next time we see Craddock, he takes the Man in Black and Lawrence hostage when they come to Las Mudas. He brings them to the church where the townspeople are being kept, and the Man in Black tells him where the town weapons are stored. But not before Major kills the town representative, because he – Craddock – isn’t doing any deals.

Craddock: Now, me and my men here have a long journey ahead of us. We need food, whiskey, and ammunition. You people have some village elder who can speak for you? Make some kind of a deal? (GUNSHOT) (ALL MURMURING) I ain't interested in makin' fuckin' deals. You understand?

Probably inefficient?.. Not for the Death, who operates on intimidation. I bet, Major Craddock could threaten and kill these poor townspeople all day. Because, you see:

Craddock: We know you motherfuckers are rebels. So you’re gonna tell me where the fuck you hid your weapons, or you’re gonna die. Lawrence: The second we tell him he's gonna kill us all anyway. But you know what? It is very likely that Lawrence is right, but it isn’t necessarily so. Despite what you might be thinking now, the Deaths aren’t complete strangers to nobleness. Don’t raise your eyebrows, let me explain: they like to challenge and to accept challenges, to find worthy opponents – a victory over an equal or even a superior opponent results in ecstasy of the usually unemotional Death. And this is why sometimes the Death is able to respect an interesting opponent suggesting a one-on-one combat, which, however, probably wouldn’t prevent it from hurting the relatives of the said opponent... Because the Death has its own way of assessing such things. For instance, it can find the murder of a waiter for a spilled tea understandable and condemn a genocide. I’m going to talk about the reasoning behind it later.

Now I’d like to turn to the two defining attributes of the Death apart from sadism – in every sense of the word, including sexual sadism.

First one is its amorality. Even if the Death develops its own moral system, the core at the center of that system becomes the mirror image of the public morals. Many of the Deaths do, indeed, understand the concept of “forbidden”, but this knowledge in the end only tempts them to violate the prohibitions. Most of them, though, aren’t interested in comprehending the concept of moral at all. Take, for instance, Bart from Dirk Gently: she is a holistic murderer, who kills because the universe compels her to. It’s not a part of her job to question why she has to do what she has to do.

Importantly, this factor defines not only the Death’s behavior but its whole way of life – the choices the Deaths make and what these lead them to.

The second defining attribute is gaiety of the Death. That gaiety shouldn’t be mistaken for optimism – the Deaths are rather pessimistic, but at the same time they find evil funny; not to mention the fact that, in many cases, typical manifestations of gaiety, such as smiles and laughter, can express almost any emotion when it comes to the Death. That perverse gaiety also often becomes an important attribute of the Death’s exterior – the Comedian and the Joker probably are the most striking examples for that, – and in combination with vigor and vitality (children are usually very energetic), which are also quite characteristic for the most Deaths, it gives us the archetype that by murdering, raping, torturing, and committing acts of terrorism for its own amusement brings about irreversible changes in the cosmographic picture of its world.

In other words, even though the Death per se is a weak occult figure, it compensates for it with its physical influence on the environment, often becoming one of the most important figures of its fictional universe in the process.

Also, many of the Death are approaching the position of a trickster in their worlds, but due to their primitivism they rarely realize the potential of this possible cosmographic role.

In many ways, it resembles the modus operandi of The Wheel of Fortune – another very physically influential archetype.

And another archetype once played by Tucker, hm. Matthew Brown was the most memorable cameo of the second season of Hannibal, I guarantee you. And it makes sense to give these physical characters to a very physical actor (and person), when you think about it: the way the man moves on camera, almost aggressively at home in his own body, all the tiny nuances of his intimate interactions with the props that are basically creating an additional layer of dialog and of the characters themselves… Isn’t it the best way to breathe life into physical archetypes and simply a wonderful approach to acting? I know, I know, you aren’t here because of my degree in Tuckerology. It’s just hard to talk about the man without professing love.

The next thing Major Craddock does is shooting a bartender balancing a glass of nitroglycerine on the back of his hand after the man successfully does for him what he has been told to. Irony or sadism? It’s the same for the Death. You are recalling Ramsay Bolton torturing Theon Greyjoy, aren’t you?

It is worth noting that since the act of murder is perceived by the Deaths as the act of domination over the world, and basically is their biggest source of pleasure, many authors like to stage the battles between the Deaths and the Hermits, who endure great moral suffering even when committing violence in self-defense.

The fact that the Death doesn’t find it shameful to find pleasure in evil and laugh at the absurd and unbearable lightness of being (yes, it sort of is this existential, we’re getting there) may make you think that there isn’t anything holy to the Death at all, but – and the Death has this in common with the Mage – usually something is. It’s just insanely difficult to find, since even the Death doesn’t actually realize it sometimes. Again, think about a very cruel child, who despite everything still is a child and loves, for instance, some TV character or other figure.

And since we are talking about what the Death might like or love, the Deaths usually have a narrow circle of interests, which predictably includes drugs, weapons (Remember the impressed look on Craddock's face after that demonstration of a blaster? Even if you don't, here I have it for you:

), explosives, violence, sex (rape), terrorism, but also – and this is where it gets interesting – quite often it likes dancing and music, which seems to appease their inner predator; it frequently likes childish activities or things associated with childhood (Simon Adebisi blowing soap bubbles!), animals, with which the Deaths subconsciously feel a certain kinship, games, competitions, fights, sports, food, and clothes.

Also, it usually is quite indifferent to money - again, like a child, who doesn’t understand the value of it; this is one of the traits that help you distinguish the Death from the Wheel of Fortune, who is an avid fan of making profit in all sorts of manners.

But of course there isn’t a thing that the Death generally enjoys more than tormenting people and putting them into uncomfortable situations, which Major Craddock demonstrates by forcefully dancing with Lawrence’s wife in front of him.

Yes, you'll have to believe me that in this particular instance dancing with Jonathan Tucker is actually intended as torture.

Maybe an interesting connection to a deeper meaning of the card of the archetype is that the Death doesn’t discern between age, race or sex, just as actual terrible misfortunes can potentially happen to everyone. However, being an expert sadist, the Death can and usually will make use of those characteristics of its victim that make them especially vulnerable, be it physical or psychological vulnerability.

For all the reasons discussed above, the Deaths are usually lonesome. The primitiveness of their life philosophy, together with aggressiveness that gives them a dangerous reputation, eventually isolate the Death from the normal people almost completely. Sometimes leaders or quasi-leaders, such as the Mages and the Devils in high stages of their development, the Hanged and the Justices, seek their assistance, but even then they tend to distance themselves from the Deaths in personal interactions.

The young Deaths – usually in their lower stages of development – do not pay attention to this zone of estrangement around them or even like it, seeing it as a confirmation of their value and uniqueness as a source of danger for everyone, including potential allies.

But the older Deaths often suffer from loneliness and try to build a circle of friends but fail almost always.

This loneliness, which is usually a symptom of entering the phase of high development (in which the Death realizes its emotional and social inferiority), can change the Death very much. This is, for example, what the Comedian was going through when he found out about the plan of Ozymandias and realized that he can’t understand a mass murder of those who aren’t his enemies or prey (“We know you motherfuckers are rebels!”). This is when murder becomes barbarity in his eyes, and instead of perceiving it as a joke, he asks: “I mean, what’s funny? What’s so goddamn funny? I don't get it. Somebody explain... somebody explain it to me.”

The Comedian’s isolation indicates the same thing Jake Gallo’s search for life reference points, the tragic nihilism of Ares or Grievous’ perfectionism do – the Death only suffers from its inadequacy.

In other words, golem wants to become a human, but it can’t, because it isn’t designed to play that role. Even if the Death is capable of loving or feeling anything at all, it still looks at the world from a perspective of a blunt metal object: here is me (or mine) and there are them, the enemies, who I/we have to kill. Not to kill to save a world or get something, simply because they are the enemies.

And speaking about what else can hurt the Death: Physical world is very important to it, it craves for contact with it, so, blindness, paralysis or amputation would be enough to destroy the Death’s personality.

But what leads to the actual downfall of the Death? One could assume that it is stupidity or excessive cruelty that leaves the Death without any companion-in-arms in a difficult situation. But no, actually.

What exactly killed Major Craddock?

Remember the “I know what I what” bit? It was this assumption. Because it’s the incipient ambition that usually kills the Death.

We cannot force ourselves to be kin to what is unlike us, and since the Death is a blind branch of the archetypical personal evolution, it is confined to itself. (The Deaths usually do not evolve, but can acquire some resemblance to the Mages with age and certain intellectual growth.) The Death can’t be anything better than an assassin (serving order) or a bandit (serving chaos). The Joker understands it: “You know what I am? I’m a dog chasing cars. I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it! I just do things.”

Major Craddock, on the other hand, doesn’t (didn’t...) seem to realize that the aspirations he connected with an unknown place called Glory, which he was hellbent on making his way to, resulted from the desire to become more than he is – a thug on the side of the losers (the Confederados), an artificial being, a mad dog, lost without someone holding its leash. Someone who never had the free will to decide what he wants to be but was forcefully put into being. I told you it’ll get existential!

Instead, Major thinks that he is the active subject that chooses his fate and was chosen by death, becoming its herald and champion:

Craddock: “Death is an old amigo of mine. I died just recently, in fact. But death can't bear to lay claim on me. So it sent me back here to do its bidding. Because I do it with such goddamn style. I've served death well. And in turn, it'll be watching over us as we cross these lands.” Right after that The Man in Black explains to him: The Man in Black: “You think you know death but you don't.”

Given the fact that Craddock is the Death and decided to identify with death after years and years of inflicting violence, you could argue that The Man in Black is basically saying here: “You don’t know yourself, boy”.

And what about what happens then? Well.

The Death has the tendency to escape death for quite some time. Yet when it does die, it’s usually a very horrible way to go: being eaten alive by your own dogs, falling from a great height. And now we can add a nitroglycerin cocktail to this list as well.

And honestly, thank goddess. As much as I love Jonathan Tucker and his characters, the series was painful to watch for me personally. And now I can't wait for City on a Hill, wondering who Tucker’s next archetype is going to be, because the man certainly has an intuitive grasp of these things.

So, this is it. Thank you for you attention and let me know what other Tarot archetype you'd like to learn more about!

#the major arcana #tarot #tarot cards #tarot archetypes #major craddock #westworld #jonathan tucker #the death #character overview #fandom meta

[wahbegan]

Dr. Jekyll is a Junkie

This seems so obvious to me but it’s not even one of the fucking interpretations subsections on wikipedia so apparently it merits further espousing: “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” is a parable about drug addiction. EVIDENCE!

A small thing, but Hyde’s not actually deformed in the book. Visual adaptations take the shortcut of making him deformed or monstrous because it’s very hard to communicate visually how he’s described in the novel, which is just....off. Everyone who sees him instantly like HATES him, and says they could have sworn he was disfigured in some way, but they can’t put their finger on what exactly was wrong with his appearance. Come to think of it, it’s hard to describe him at all, he’s such an uncanny mix of completely boring and generic-looking and just...off. This is a very cool and creepy detail that furthers the story a lot, and it’s y’know explained as people sensing the evil emanating off Hyde, but it is also a fairly good Gothic Novel approximation of running into someone who’s visibly high or drunk in inappropriate circumstances. How many times, be honest, have you passed someone and thought they were a crackhead based not on any one specific thing about their appearance, but just....everything? Especially if you know someone and you open the door and they’re high, you know something’s wrong, even if you don’t know what it is right away.

When confronted about Mr. Hyde, and how his lawyer’s worried that he’s blackmailing him, Dr. Jekyll assures his lawyer that he can “be rid of Hyde any time [he wants].” Obviously super shady thing to say about a person that you can GET RID OF THEM but, y’know almost trite it’s so classic addict fall-back phase in early stages of addiction.

Hyde isn’t really described as a split personality...at first. Dr. Jekyll is still conscious, and ostensibly in control of what he’s doing, but when he turns into Hyde, he finds that he’s immediately more eager and quick to indulge in whatever his nebulous vices are. Since he made the alter ego of Hyde to indulge them to begin with, it’s unclear how much of this is actually the effect of the chemical and how much is his new-found anonymity and freedom. Again, in addiction, it’s an oft-debated point how much addicts are themselves and how much of their behavior can be blamed on the drug and how much was in there all along, they just repressed it because of social inhibitions.

LATER, Hyde is described as being almost a different person, when Jekyll realizes that the more he turns into Hyde, the worse the shit he wants to do is, and the more cruel and sadistic he becomes. Again, classic addict downward spiral. Not necessarily cruelty, but the longer you maintain an addiction and the worse it gets, the crazier and more blatantly illegal and reckless shit you do. I’ve seen it, i’ve lived it, it always happens sooner or later. I had a friend, let’s call her Ms. Hyde. Ms. Hyde started smoking morphine, y’know, chasing the dragon. I was worried, but she assured me she didn’t do it too much and would never switch to heroin. She switched to heroin, and assured me she’d never shoot up. Yeah, you get no points for guessing the punchline to this story. Ms. Hyde is clean now by the way has been for years, but her story is typical. The longer I was drunk, the crazier shit i’d do. Trespassing, shoplifting, stealing from people, disappearing in the night and passing out somewhere, all of these things would make me balk at the beginning of my drinking, but soon enough...you get it. Since Jekyll’s addiction seems to be to like...being a dick with no consequences, he becomes more of a dick, which isn’t always the case, but it does always get worse.

He tramples a little girl in the street (at 4 a.m. and can i just say where the fuck were her parents that this lil b*tch was playing in the street at 4 in the fucking morning anyway i digress) and is blackmailed about it. This disturbs him not so much because he was shocked by his own cruelty, but because he almost faced consequences for his actions. He then gets a bank account and house in Hyde’s name to cover his ass. Also classic addict behavior, going through massive pains to protect your addiction to avoid consequences that could be easily avoided if you...you know. Stopped.

Now here’s where it really kicks into high gear: when he starts turning into Hyde in his sleep and it’s hard for him to turn back. This is a terrifying point all addicts reach. The point when you realize you’re not in control. He decides to kick, as is often the case, but finds he misses it, as is also often the case. So one night he takes just a liiiiittle tiny hit aaand savagely beats a member of Parliament to death. Relapses often follow this pattern. Not necessarily with beating a politician to death, but sometimes. The point is, relapses start with a thought process of “oh I’ll just do a little, I haven’t in so long, it’s probably safe” and IMMEDIATELY gets out of control like you never stopped at all. Like your body remembers at what point in your spiral you were and picks up right where you left off. You’re clean six months and you decide to have one mixed drink at the theater and suddenly you’re crying and throwing up on the roadside you know how it is.

Him beating the guy to death is something a lot of addicts also face: a rock bottom. A point where their actions or the consequences for them shock them into going totally cold turkey. But, just like with Jekyll, it often doesn’t work. Jekyll can’t stop turning into Hyde even after he’s resolved not to. Notably, Jekyll is...........a really weird guy. He seems deeply upset and plagued by a frankly weird amount of cognitive dissonance by the fact that he has desires that aren’t completely socially acceptable, to the point that he wants to split his personality into different physical people. He is not an emotionally well man. He hints at having an incredibly strict and puritanical upbringing, which probably had something to do with it. He’s also withdrawn from his friends at this point (that’s another for addict bingo!), and has no support system. With no support or way to address why he’s turning into Hyde, it doesn’t matter that he wants to stop. It keeps happening, even though he doesn’t want it to.

When Jekyll wakes up as Hyde, now a WANTED MURDERER, keep in mind, and can’t risk going out to get the shit to change him back himself, he calls on his old friend Lanyon to do it, sending a histrionically worded letter BEGGING him to go to his house and get these chemicals and a guy will come at midnight to pick them up. Begging friends, family, acquaintances, etc. to help you get your hands on your stash or more drugs is also classic and a large part of why addicts’ personal relationships go to shit.

Speaking of that part, Hyde’s reaction when he sees Lanyon got his shit for him, here lemme quote directly: “My visitor was, indeed, on fire with sombre excitement. “Have you got it?” he cried. “Have you got it?” And so lively was his impatience that he even laid his hand upon my arm and sought to shake me...He paused and put his hand to his throat, and I could see, in spite of his collected manner, that he was wrestling against the approaches of the hysteria—“I understood, a drawer... He sprang to it, and then paused, and laid his hand upon his heart; I could hear his teeth grate with the convulsive action of his jaws; and his face was so ghastly to see that I grew alarmed both for his life and reason.”

Yeah you could copy/paste that into an account of a guy in withdrawal being given smack and i would not bat an eye.

Anyway, yeah that’s about it it’s a short story but this started with my thinking “so, Hyde’s not really a split personality, he’s more like your friend who turns into a real piece of shit when he’s drunk...” and then going WAIT A SECOND

And as is so often the case, his spiral ends with him shut up alone in isolation for over a week, desperately tryna get more of the chemical, and eventually committing suicide. He undertook his experiment alone, against others’ better judgement, and allowed it to continue for far too long before he asked for any help. When he finally did, it was not help to kick that he wanted, but help to sustain his habit. And when at last he realized that was what he needed he had driven his friends away, was in trouble with the law, and was losing his mind and sense of identity. The only way out left for him was death. 

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde isn’t about the duality of man or a mad scientist who makes a serum that turns him into an evil little gremlin. It’s about an addict’s downward spiral and self-inflicted, premature death.

This makes way more sense than it being about uhh....The Church of Scotland??? Why the fuck am I not the revered literary scholar

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 010 [Unfairness]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,552 ☁

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〈“There’s a demon inside. Just like Jekyll and Hyde. All this anger inside.” Five Finger Death Punch, “Jekyll and Hyde”〉

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I could feel a presence hovering over me. “Don’t even think about it,” I muttered, opening my eyes to glare at Toshi. His hand was hovering by my cheek, ready to smack me awake.

“Oh, you’re already awake?”

“Unfortunately,” I muttered, rising up like a corpse from a coffin. “I barely slept.”

“Excited?” he grinned.

“Something like that,” I glanced at the clock as I stood up, heading for the bathroom.

“I must be going!” he called. “I will see you at school!”

I flushed the toilet, heading over to the sink to wash my hands. Man, I look like shit. I splashed my face with cold water, hoping it would help to wake me up. Toshi was gone by the time I made it back to the couch. My phone buzzed on the table and I grabbed it, glancing at the clock again. It was only five o’clock and class didn’t start until eight-twenty-five. I took a shower last night so I just had to brush my teeth and get dressed. The phone buzzed again, then again a minute later.

With a scowl, I opened up the gaming app. There were five messages, all from Murder and sent within the last twenty minutes.

‘Oi, extra’

‘Wake the fuck up’

‘I cant sleep’

‘ARE U FUCKING IGNORING ME’

‘ILL KILL U BITCH’

Damn, this kid has some serious anger issues. I settled down under the covers, putting on my headphones and turning on some rock music before replying to him, ‘Keep ur damn panties on. I can give u the name of a good therapist seems like u need 1’

‘Fuck u’

I laughed, ‘When is ur bday? I can send u a diary to vent all that repressed anger fam’

‘FUCK U TACO!!’

I laughed again, tossing my phone onto the table. I closed my eyes, intending only to relax for a bit and listen to some good vibes, but the rock music thumping in my ears lulled me back to sleep.

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I winced at the bright light shining directly on my fucking eyes. I really hate those sheer curtains. I pulled the headphones off my head and yawned, reaching for my phone. Eight o’clock. I yawned again, standing up and stretching my arms above my head. I hope there’s some Dr. Pepper left. I need to stop by the store after… school…

My eyes widened as the realization hit me.

School, fuck! I’m gonna be late on my first fucking day! Tosh is gonna murder me, ugh! I got dressed as fast as I could and ended up stubbing my big toe on the fucking coffee table which received an angry kick in retaliation, flipping over onto the floor with a loud thud. I grabbed my phone, shoved my feet into my sneakers and rushed out the door, only to rush back halfway down the stairs because I forgot to fucking lock the door.

It was eight-twenty-one when I made it to school.  I stifled a yawn, tugging at the red tie around my neck. Every school I had ever attended was a public school with barely any rules regarding clothing – as long as no one showed up naked, anything was fair game.  Being stuffed into this stupid ass uniform made me feel uncomfortable and even a bit claustrophobic, but at least Toshi had convinced Nezu to let me wear the boy’s uniform. I’d fucking drop dead before getting caught in that short ass skirt the girls have to wear.

“You’re late,”

I turned around and deadpanned. Aizawa was standing in front of me, his body completely hidden within a yellow sleeping bag, save for his face which was framed by fluffy black hair. “What the fuck are you wearing, Aizawa? That can’t be the proper apparel for a teacher.”

“‘Sensei,’” he corrected, hopping down the hall like a bunny.

I followed, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “Do you know how stupid you look, though?” When he sent me a glare, I added, “Asking for a friend,”

“Can you at least pretend to take this seriously?”

Bitch, I ain’t the one hopping around in a sleeping bag, okay. I shrugged at him, looking away from his penetrating gaze. “Hey, Aizawa.”

“What,”

“I’m sorry,”

He stopped hopping, but I continued on, rounding the corner. A boy with a mop of messy green hair and a bright red face stood in front of the open classroom door, a round-faced brunette girl geeking out about some punch or some shit. One-Punch Man? Did that even exist in this world? I should head to the book store and see, cause that manga is lit.

I stopped in my tracks, feeling dread settle in my stomach. Wait, maybe it’s just because I didn’t eat breakfast. I noticed movement by my feet and sweatdropped at Aizawa as he inched along the floor like a fucking worm, stopping behind the two. No one noticed him until he spoke up, and the look of horror on their faces was priceless.

“If you’re just here to make friends, then you can pack up your stuff now. Welcome to U.A.’s hero course,” he sighed deeply, tugging down the zipper just enough so he could drink from a pouch of juice.

Aizawa, you’re a literal child and I fucking love it.

He stood up, pushing the zipper down the rest of the way so he could step out of the bag. “It took eight seconds before you all shut up, that’s not gonna work. Tims is precious. Rational students would understand that.” He waved his hand to me and I entered the room, glancing at the seating arrangement pinned to the board.

I’m in the very back row, an odd number. Guess that makes sense. I threw my bag onto my chair before leaning against the desk, my eyes scanning the room. I didn’t recognize anyone but two people. The first is Fumi, who wasn’t paying attention to me. And the second was that damn prep from the exam. Damn, why did he have to be put in this class?

“Hello, I’m Shouta Aizawa, your teacher.” He dug around in the bag and pulled out a gym uniform.

Okay, seriously – what is with the U.A. staff and having endless space? First, it’s Granny with damn endless gummy bear supply and now this fucker with an endless amount of space in a sleeping bag.

“Right, let’s get to it. Put these on and head outside.”

The students hesitantly headed to the locker rooms to get changed into the new uniform, which looked like something you’d wear to the gym. The first thing I did was check to see if the pants had pockets.

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Aizawa looked over the group, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else but here. “We’re going to be doing a quirk assessment test,”

“But… what about orientation?” The brunette asked. “We’re going to miss it!”

“If you really want to make the big leagues, you can’t waste time on pointless ceremonies. Here at U.A., we’re not tethered to tradition. That means I get to run my class however I see fit. You’ve been taking standardized tests most of your lives, but you never got to use your quirk in physical exams before. The country’s still trying to pretend we’re all created equal by not letting those with the most power excel. It’s not rational. One day, the ministry of education will learn.”

That’s pretty deep, fam. I closed my eyes and grabbed my chin. I guess in a way it makes sense. It’s like participation trophies back home. Even if you didn’t do jack shit, you still got a trophy for participating, so even if you lost you still ‘won’. It prevents kids from trying their hardest to reap the rewards.

“Bakugo, you managed to get the most points on the entrance exam.” He looked at the red-eyed blonde. “What was your farthest distance throw with a softball when you were in junior high?”

“Sixty-seven meters, I think.”

“Right. Try doing it with your quirk.” His eyes followed the blonde as he stepped into a circle drawn onto the earth with white chalk. “Anything goes, just stay in the circle. Go on, you’re wasting our time.”

“Alright, man. You asked for it.” Bakugo stretched his arm, clutching the modified softball. “DIE!!” The ball took off into the sky with an explosion propelling it.

Damn, son. That was a bit excessive but mkay.

“All of you need to know your maximum capabilities.” Aizawa’s phone beeped. “It’s the most rational way of figuring out your potential as a pro hero.” The screen on his phone showed 705.2 meters.

I whistled, folding my hands behind my head. That’s kinda impressive. I wonder how far I can throw it?

“Woah, 705 meters, are you kidding me?”

“I wanna go! That looks like fun!”

“This is what I’m talking about. Using our quirks as much as we want!”

Aizawa narrowed his eyes. “So this looks fun, huh?”

Oh boy, he’s about to get all dramatic again, ain’t he?

“You have three years here to become a hero. You think it’s all going to be games and playtime? Idiots,” He smirked, but it looked kinda sadistic. “Today, you’ll compete in eight physical tests to gauge your potential. Whoever comes in last has none, and will be expelled immediately.”

Called it.

Everyone started to freak out at the statement and I sighed, looking up at the clear blue sky. I had grown to know this man pretty well after spending every single day with him for months and I had no doubt in my mind that he would expel anyone he deemed unworthy. It sounds cruel, but I know he has his reasons, whatever the hell that was. I feel like, more than anything, he’s just trying to ruffle some jimmies. And it’s working.

“Like I said, I get to decide how this class runs.” He pushed back his bangs with his hand. “Understand? If that’s a problem, you can head home right now.”

“Pfffttt,” I tried so fucking hard to hold back my laughter, I really did, but the bitch looked like a little kid trying to act tough to intimidate someone older. He snapped his glare to me and I quickly turned my back to him, trying to control myself.

“Is there a problem, Winchester?”

The way he said my name told me that I was definitely going to get hit later. I coughed a few times, banging on my chest before turning around with my hand covering my mouth. “Ah, no, not at all, sensei.” cough cough. “Sorry, I’m recovering from a cold, don’t mind me.”

The other students were staring at me with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

“Wait a minute, you can’t send one of us home!” The brunette exclaimed. “I mean, we just got here! Even if it wasn’t the first day, that isn’t fair!”

Oh no. She said the F word.

“Oh, and you think natural disasters are? Or power-hungry villains, hm? Or catastrophic accidents that wipe out whole cities? No. The world is full of unfairness. It’s a hero’s job to try and combat that unfairness. For the next three years, U.A. will throw one terrible hardship after another at you. So go beyond -”

“Plus ultra style,” I stepped forward with a grin, locking eyes with him. I had heard the ‘fairness’ speech before, shortly after we started training together. He hated it when I used that word against him, and he always repeated the same thing each time, drilling it into my head that the world just isn’t fair. That isn’t something parents tell kids when they can’t have their way, it’s a real, life lesson that kids gotta learn the hard way.

He nodded at me, the corners of his lips twitching. He totally almost just smiled. “Show me it’s no mistake that you’re here. Now then, we’re just wasting time by talking. Let the games begin!”

“Jen~!”

I turned just as my vision was overtaken by a black and purple blur. My eyes widened, body seizing with fear as I remembered the darkness surrounding me. My breathing grew heavy as Gramp’s lifeless face flashed in my mind, my body beginning to shake as my skin grew hot. I could hear muffled voices, but only one stood out to me.

‘I have come to bring you home, Jen Winchester.’

“Jen!”

A familiar feeling settled over my body, like someone had slammed the door shut before my power could escape. My vision started to focus, settling on Fumi who stood in front of me in a defensive posture. Shadow hovered behind him, tears in his eyes as he stared at me in fear. I glanced to the left, scanning the scared and wide-eyed expressions of my classmates. And then I met Aizawa’s red, glowing eyes. He’s using his quirk… on me?

The block on my power ceased and Aizawa speed walked over to me. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, a small puff of smoke escaping my lips. My body was trembling, the pendant around my neck like a block of ice against my skin. He put a hand on my arm and helped me to my feet. When had I fallen to the ground?

“Go see the old lady,” he ordered into my ear.

“What? But – the test -”

“You don’t need to take it, just go.”

“I-I’m fine, really, Aiza -”

“I wasn’t asking,”

“Sensei, I can take her.” Fumi’s posture relaxed a bit as he stepped forward.

Aizawa was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,”

Fumi held his hand out to me and I hesitantly took it, feeling confusion bubbling within me. Did I… try to attack Fumi? But why the fuck would I?

He gently tugged on my hand, leading me toward the school building. I could feel everyone staring at us as we left and I just wanted to disappear. When we stepped into the building, he turned to me with soft eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Did I… try to hurt you?”

“I’m not quite sure…” He held his hand up to his mouth. “I believe Dark Shadow startled you and you blacked out temporarily. Your quirk may have activated as a self-defense mechanism.”

“Did you get hurt?” My eyes scanned his body, but he looked unharmed.

“No, I’m perfectly fine. You just startled Dark Shadow.”

Great, I’ve got fucking PTSD now because of that stupid ass shadow man. I put my hand on my face and huffed. “Sorry, Fumi…”

“No need to worry. Dark Shadow shouldn’t have rushed at you like he did.”

“I’m really sorry…” Shadow mumbled sadly, sticking close to Fumi’s shoulder.

I forced a smile, holding my hand out to him. He looked at it for a moment, looked at Fumi, and then back at my hand. Slowly, as if not to startle me again, he placed his clawed hand on mine. His cold body was calming against my warm skin. “Forgive and forget?”

He nodded happily, rushing toward me only to stop and shake his head. He approached slowly, nuzzling his head against my shoulder. I smiled for real this time, patting him before we continued on to the nurse’s office in comfortable silence, Shadow lingering between us.

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[jacquelineshyde]

Zenmasters Week 2017: Day 6 -- What happened in the summer of the ‘78?

From ‘Wear My Arms’, an unfinished and never posted work. WMA was a soulmate AU I was writing way before the ZMA became a thing. This is from chapter 5: The Walk. Goes from the kiss in JBG, thorugh season 4 and the summer betwen s4 and 5.

It’s all on Hyde’s POV.

Kissing Jackie was probably the biggest mistake of the night.

Her handwriting haunted him ever since that time with Donna and Forman, and the closer she got to him after her break up with Kelso, the surer he was about his soulmate’s identity. Like rain, the answer made him cold and he tried to give her his back most times, cover himself from the drops, but there were things—he couldn’t see a girl crying, and he couldn’t stand her crying.

The weakness he showed for her tears gave her the bad idea that they should be together and his steps were always followed by her. At the end, even if she wasn’t his soulmate, whatever it was that he was… feeling for her, he didn’t like it. He didn’t want it either.

When Mrs. Forman make it clear she saw what he had been trying to ignore, Hyde was sure he owed Jackie a chance, so a date would do.

To kiss her was probably the biggest mistake of his night… He should had talked more, he should had stopped pretending to not care, he should had shown her he was interested. But instead, he let her do as she wished with him, even putting his own arm around her shoulders because he was too numb to think and then, she was too numb to even feel.

She rejected him.

After half a year of following him around, swearing she wanted him and wanted to be with him, she had dismissed him just with one kiss and a straight up, ‘I felt nothing’.

Bullshit.

How could she not feel anything? He had felt—everything, even things he didn’t had a name for, stuff he had always made fun of with his friends, all those things Forman had talked about since he’s been with Donna: crap.

But Jackie had felt nothing and then remained single until Kelso had to pretend be weak, until Kelso’s dick had wanted Jackie again and the doofus had decided to lie and cheat, and she had believed it all over again.

“You know what the worst part is?” Fez said in the circle, he and Forman were throwing each other cookies and Donna and Fez had been talking shit about Kelso and Jackie. “He is not her soulmate!”

“Ugh, tell me about it.” Donna said. “I’m sure she didn’t told me all about her Dream, but that guy doesn’t sound like Kelso at all.”

“He doesn’t even have a room of his own!”

“And his room is always clean because of his mom, Mrs. Kelso can’t see a single stain on her house. She goes crazy.” Donna added, this time taking one of Forman’s cookies. “Stop doing that, I want some!”

“Can you guys talk about something else?” Forman said. “I’m all in that Jackie is stupid, but I had enough of them. Literally. I swear I saw their tongues at least four times tonight.”

A disgusted sound echoed the basement, and Hyde shook his head. “Who cares if they are together or not? Their problem.”

“Well, I do.” Donna answered. “She’s gonna end up empty and sad again, and I will have to listen all over again to the same crap. And then she will go for you, Hyde.”

“No, I pass!” he yawned. “She can go to Fez now, she didn’t find anything with me the first time.”

“Oooh! You are right!” Fez clapped happy. “She will go to me now!”

“Fez, buddy, my friend… Jackie lives to reject you.” Forman laughed.

He shook his head. She better didn’t run back to him because he was tired, he was tired of soulmates and hearts, and his could fuck itself with every damn movement it did the second Jackie showed down at the basement.

Hyde was sure he was sick, probably allergic to her. Or he was simply in love. Whatever the reason, both meant the same: nothing to her, his discomfort was only his.

So he drank. He smoked. And he eat.

As long as it allowed him to distract his thought from her and not look at the way her mouth moved while kissing someone else, it was welcomed. And he drank, he smoked, and he eat until Bud left him again, until Forman and Donna transformed the basement into a battle ground, until Kelso started to neglect Jackie again.

By the time his friends wanted him to fall in love, he was, and couldn’t show it.

When his birthday came and Kelso had the audacity of calling Jackie names for a single kiss, and her lips touched his cheek, he knew he was lost forever.

That falling in love had changed not only the game, but his entire self.

So he drank. He smoked. And he eat.

Until Donna disappeared one night, leaving them all cold and scared shitless for her safety.

It fucking hurt, to think of Donna somewhere where she couldn’t call for help, putting herself in danger, or being put in danger against her will. He couldn’t also deal with a heartbroken and scared Jackie right now.

“Steven!” She called with the basement’s door opening in hurry, when he looked up, she was standing almost in front of him on a sun dress, the straps of her bra showing. He swallowed, talking himself out of his shit, he couldn’t be thinking of Jackie like this while Donna—“I talked to Donna this morning! Where is Eric?”

“What?”

“HYDE!” They heard from upstairs. “Hyde! Heey, Jackie!” Forman greeted with a big smile, waving his hand to Jackie but running to his side. “Donna called, man! She’s in California with her mom! Bob just hang up with them, came over to tell us.” He saw Jackie going to sit on the couch from the corner of his eye and then his attention went directly to Forman. “She is fine, Hyde. Donna is fine, Jackie!” He looked at her and she smiled.

“I know, I talked to her this morning. Came here to tell you two.” She said.

“Wait! She called you but she didn’t call me?” Forman looked offended, he shook his head the second Jackie arched an eyebrow. “Why!?”

“Oh, maybe it’s because I didn’t reject her and treated her like dirt after someone else had cleaned the floor with me, Eric.”

“Oh, come on! She told you that?”

“Donna and I are best friends, dumbass! Of course, she would tell me!” She defended, then started to search for something on her purse. “Why don’t you shut up and go talk to her?” He gave him a piece of paper, for Forman’s face when he opened it, it must had been the answer to all his problems. “She’s your soulmate, Eric. And you are hers. Stop being each other’s biggest obstacles and be together, stop being ridiculous. Not everyone has the luck you two have.”

“Uh, so this is…?”

She rolled her eyes. “Donna’s number, you idiot.”

“Alright!” He ran up the stairs with the same excitement as before. “Thank you, Satan!”

Jackie rolled her eyes again, then left them closed, one hand holding the weight of her face and Hyde looked at her, searching for every detail he knew by now of her expressions and his breathe got trapped when she looked at him.

“Are you okay?” She asked, he should be the one asking that, but she did anyway. “You are incredible silent, even for you.”

“I’m fine.” He said, crossing his arms. His heart was beating too fast, mostly for Donna. “Just… I’m glad she’s fine, man.”

“I know. I’m glad, too.”

The silence between them used to be normal, never this tense or awkward. Why today felt different? He wanted to drink, and smoke, and eat, his nervousness was starting to destroy his stomach. Every second she was quiet, a centimeter of his guts disappeared.

“Michael took her there.” She said. “I broke up with him.”

“Oh, man. Again?” It sounded too tired, he hoped Jackie wouldn’t ask about it.

“Yeah.” Was her answer. “He is not my soulmate.” She laughed, “He is definitely not my soulmate, thank God.”

For a second, he refused to look at her, but he did at the end. All he found was her eyes and a small smile. None of them said anything after that. But he stopped drinking, he stopped smoking, and he stopped eating. He walked to work, worked more at the house, and stayed down the basement when she wasn’t at the pool.

As the break go by, he stopped shaving and found out his stubble had suddenly become an actual beard and Jackie looked more at him. It appeared then on his mind, the memory of Jackie wanting Kelso when he tried to grow a beard too, and the idea almost made him laugh until her tiny fingers touched his cheek and she smiled at him.

“You actually look nice.” She had said.

“Always, but thank you.”

She laughed, her hand left his face and he swallowed. “But you should cut it a little.” She suggested, “I can’t see your face.”

Hyde blinked after that, as he did when he found himself in front of the mirror, controlling the hair on his face and crap, why was he listening to her?

Was it because she wasn’t dating nor wanting to see anyone this summer, and suddenly seemed sure about never going back to Kelso? Was it because Jackie looked at him like she never did before, and suddenly all the crap that has happened between them ever since that day in the pool, made his Dream made sense?

By the time Forman and Fez had started to hang out with parents and foster parents respectively, Jackie stayed until late down at the basement, watching TV with him in complete silence. She joined at the circle, helped Mrs. Forman with lunch and Red with the cars, then came back and sat down to watch bad TV with him.

Until one night, that she wanted to walk.

“Hey, Steven?” She called.

“Uhm?” He answered, not looking at her even after moving from his usual spot to sit at her side in the couch.

“Can you walk me to my car? It’s late and I left it a little far from the house.”

He groaned, it was hot outside even at night, and standing was also too much. But then, she will have had to walk alone to her car, and suddenly it wasn’t a bad idea. He nodded and waited for her to be ready, and they walked outside the house almost touching shoulders.

“Is it too far?”

“A little.”

“I can drive you there.”

“Don’t be lazy, Steven. Let’s walk!”

Hyde rolled his eyes, but followed anyway.

Softly, his voice found its force as they talked following their steps. His body was just being guided by her, his mind was too focused on their conversation: her parents had left her alone again and she was missing Donna. Usually, when both her parents were out town, she called her friends to do slumber parties and lately, she had been crashing at Donna’s for a day or two.

“We see you two sometimes.” She said, Hyde blinked and looked at her side, but she was looking at the ground. “You take out the trash with Eric, sometimes. Donna likes to sit near her window, she can see Eric’s room from there.” She swallowed and he could almost see the moment her nose started to turn red. “She can’t see him because of his curtains, so she waits for the lights to go off and she goes back to bed.”

Jackie missed her and Hyde wondered when had this happened? When had Jackie become part of their group, Donna’s best friend, the girl he wanted to hear all the time? She cleaned a couple of tears that had escaped and rolled down her cheeks, he wanted to offer her his hand but maintained his body to himself.

“I bet she dreams of him.” She murmured. “Of her soulmate.”

She wasn’t talking about Donna anymore, he realized. His fingers touched the material of her sundress, and Jackie looked up at him. Their eyes meet and she smiled. Softly. Tender.

“So,” She started, for the way her fingers were playing with each other, he knew she was nervous, “you had your Dream already?”

He arched an eyebrow. “And you want to know because…?”

“Oh, well—“ She sighed. “I know everyone has, but I’m not so sure about you. I think I heard something once? That you had it at school?” Smiling, he nodded. “Sounds like you, falling asleep in class and dreaming with your soulmate there.”

“Yeah, she was sick that time and stayed on her room writing.”

Her hands fell at her sides and then, the silence.

When he finally looked around them, he realized they weren’t anywhere near the Formans’ and a new idea came to mind. How the hell hadn’t he noticed how far they had walked? For how long? He chuckled, making fun of himself before talking to her.

“Where is your car, Jackie?”

She sighed and smiled at him, her cheeks growing pink. “At my home.” He stopped walking and so did she, standing a few steps ahead of him. “Is… is it okay?”

Even if he wanted to be mad, he wasn’t. Hyde hide his hands on the pockets of his pants and walked again.

“Let’s go.” She sighed, like if it was a relief he hadn’t walk away but he couldn’t give it a big thought to any of this. “You? I bet it was a big deal when you had it.”

“How do you know I had it? I only told Donna and Michael.”

“Your doofus ex told everyone.”

“Oh, no!” She sighed. “Well, at least I lied and didn’t told him what I saw.”

“It was him?”

“Eww, no!” She answered, then sighed again. “He was on his room, messy and—I don’t know. I have the impression he had break all his stuff himself.”

“Boy got a temper, ha?” She only nodded, eyes glued to the ground again. “Hey?”

“He was sad.” Jackie said. “It broke my heart.”

Crying, he had been crying. It was the day Edna had left, and he had been crying. Not because of his mother, but because he was dusted furniture again. He didn’t matter to anyone, and the person who was supposed to never leave him, had done it without even giving it a thought.

“But he had these really pretty hands.” She opened hers and showed him. “Big and masculine, I got this idea that—that it was a good thing. That he could protect me.” She confessed. “I thought it would be easy to recognize him, but it wasn’t at first.” Jackie looked at him, they had been walking way slower since the conversation of soulmates started. “But like a week after, I found him.”

“You know who he is?”

There wasn’t a verbal answer, when he looked at his side she smiled at him and there, there it was.

Jackie nodded, and he nodded too.

Her hands took his wrist, but he couldn’t give her his hand; it was sweaty and she—she didn’t like sweat. So she interlaced her arm with his instead.

“You…” She started again, “you know who your soulmate is?”

“No.” He said, Hyde felt the way her arm lose force in their union and his heart jumped inside his ribcage. “I’m not sure, I mean…”

“No?” Her arm was firm between his again and her breasts were touching his skin. She was warm and soft, and always smelled like fresh air, flowers and everything green and alive. “How’s that?”

“I…” What could he say now? There was just one thing that could tell him if she was the one, just one. “I haven’t met anyone with her room.”

“Oh…” She seemed to search for words or maybe a memory, when whatever it was hit her, she smiled. “You’ll find her.”

He nodded.

“So,” She said once they walked past the entrance of her ridiculous house, “you want to stay a little?” She asked. “Marta, the cook, just bought groceries in the morning and she bought me some ice cream. It’s really hot today, you want some?”

“Why not?”

He kissed her the next day in the basement, and she kissed him back without hesitation. Later they said it was boredom, not the fact that he had spent two long hours in her room, listening to music and fighting about music.

Jackie’s room was the pinkiest shit he had ever seen. She had terrible taste in music, too. Her bathroom was small but the window allowed the light to hit exactly where it needed too, and her diary was under her bed, purple as he remembered.

None of them talked about soulmates and Dreams during that summer, it was all about the kisses and the days they could be completely alone, exploring and stealing laughs from the other. It was all just getting better, maybe it could stay that way.

Maybe they could steal this season.

#zmweek17 #zenmasterscentral #that 70s show #jackie x hyde #zenmasters #mine #my fanfics #sneakpeek #wear my arms #otp: anything for you doll #fanfictions #season 5 #zenmasters week

[afanoftheglassscientists]

The Glass Scientist Sunday Predictions

Well I had plans to post a thing last Friday, but I decided to hold off on that till later this week.  It wasn’t a good day.  I mean, there’s a lot of bad days going around, but Friday was a particularly awful one.  I just wanted to go to work, hang out with my family, and then lie down in bed, so I did just that.  But hey, its Sunday now!  Which means a new page is on the horizon.  So lets take a breather from these bad feels and predict which Glass Scientist character is gonna get the bad feels next.  My guess is Hyde.  Hyde looks like he might get stabbed, which wouldn’t be a great thing to happen while you’re trying to regain control of your body in time to head to that cool party that’s about to close shop.

Tomorrows Page Predictions (Ch. 7 Pg. 30)

Fake! Lanyon Stabs Hyde

After demonstrating he can destroy half of the dapper ghost he proceeds to stab Hyde.

Hyde can’t die!  He’s the other half of Jekyll, not some random plushie-like ghost that has merchandising potential!  Fake! Lanyon needs to consider his other options.

This is a mindscape!  Hyde uses the sword stabbed into his side to split apart and reform out of the chains.  Take that, Lanyon But Worse (just kidding I do like Lanyon)

Hyde “dies.”  Poof.  Gone.  He heckin’ just died on us before we’ve even reached the climax.  Unbelievable!  What a disappointment...

Fake! Lanyon Won’t Shut Up About Destroying “The Evil Half”

Hyde’s like “Oh just get over it already!  I’m bored!”

Hyde takes the opportunity to escape with Fake! Lanyon’s monologue-ing with his back turned.

Hyde gloats.  He can’t be killed.  He’s way too cool for that!

That’s it for the next page predictions.  I can’t think up a lot of variations of what might happen that’s not “Fake! Lanyon Stabs Hyde.”  But don’t worry if you need another mile-long post to distract yourself until tomorrow I’ve got you covered.

General Story Prediction

Money’s Still on Lanyon Causing Hyde to Have the Upper Hand

I said it last week and I’ll say it again; Jekyll learning Lanyon found the Will and confronting him about it is gonna lead to The Bad Times and is going to affect Hyde’s ability to take control.

In the original Mr. Utterson saw the Will and hearing some gos about Hyde being a garbage man with someone I forgot about and was like “Well whats going on with my dear old friend Jekyll here” and that’s how he started investigating.  This actually takes up most of the “present” story, with the most memorable parts coming from Lanyon’s letter after finding out the truth and Jekyll’s letter which makes up the whole other half of the book.

In the Glass Scientists however its Lanyon that’s leading the Search for Hyde club,  so he’s the one that matches the Utterson-shaped hole the most in the Jekyll & Hyde part of the story.  As far as I know Utterson in this version is still just an old friend and also NOT an ex, which is why Jekyll would entrust Utterson with the will.  Utterson’s not directly involved in Jekyll’s life the way Lanyon is, so he’s a safer bet to put the will into action.  Of course, I’m guessing the will was made before SOMEBODY set the street on fire, so maybe Utterson now has a few reservations.  But its been mentioned that he might have a brief cameo at best, so who knows if we’ll see what he thinks of all this.

Anyway what I’m trying to say is that Lanyon has been with Jekyll for more than a decade.  They been roommates fellas.  They know enough about each other to know when somethings off.  So when Lanyon confronts Jekyll he can’t just be like, “Oh yes, hmm, good to see you, not to worry, everything’s just fine! Hmm, yes” (that is how I read the original writing I’m not exaggerating.)  I mean, he could try, but its not going to work.  Its gonna be baaaaad people. 

And that’s not mentioning the various people added into the story to shake it up, like Rachel who’s also a long-time friend of Jekyll.  Jasper’s only known Jekyll for a few days now, and even he could get caught in the Hyde-in-Seek mess, though he’s low on the “Confront Jekyll on the Hyde problem” list considering he doesn’t have a strong opinion on Hyde yet.  And then there’s Frankenstein and Creature, and there’s a whole nother can of worms.  Speaking of which...

Hyde and Frankenstein Are Going To Be The Worst of Friends

I don’t think that’s much of a stretch right?  They’re practically meant to be the kind of friends the enable the worst in each other.  They’ll sneak out and come back in different clothes and a giant ghost spider they picked up along the way and Creature’s gonna be the Mom who waits for them after curfew tapping his feet, disappointed but not surprised.  Jekyll would be next to him except he’d be in Hyde and also, like, super jealous that Frankenstein like Hyde more than him.  If they have a falling out its gonna be reality-tv-sized falling out.  I just can’t think of anything of anything else yet. 

Somebody’s Gonna Be Pushed To The Bottom of the Staircase In Jekyll’s Head

I can’t tell you who yet, but I got a sneaking suspicion there’s gonna be some tussling happening in Jekyll’s noggin.  Obvious candidates for the abyss is Hyde and Jekyll, though there’s also Fake! Lanyon and perhaps others inside Jekyll’s mind we’re not yet aware of.  Maybe there’s a Fake! Rachel with a knife in both hands.

Rachel Covers Hyde When He Does A Bad (May be a Murder)

Hyde is Rachel’s precious cinnamon scone, so of course she needs to protect him.  Maybe even do a Bad herself.  I was thinking this ever since I saw that beautiful diptych print on Sabrina’s store envy page.  On one side’s Jekyll and Jasper just hanging out while potioning it up, just having a good time.  On the other side-

Rachel, young lady, who’s blood is on that knife you’re holding?  No I don’t believe its just cow’s blood.

Is that enough for today?  I think that’s enough.  Not nearly as monstrously long as last weeks, but I’m sure I can fix that next week.  Til then!

P.S. Feel free to add your own predictions for the series using the tag, “tgs sunday predictions,” if you want.  It’d be fun to see what other people might think happen in the story.

#the glass scientists #tgs #tgs Sunday predictions #comic #webcomic