#but how traumatic it must have been to overhear something like that Again!!! fuck!!!!

[katierosefun]

Okay since we decided we're being sad about Juwon's childhood I'm gonna chime in too.

So remember that scene where we see baby Juwon for the first time? His mum is unstable and then is taken away? He just watches that whole scene (which is just such a traumatic thing to see as child) unfold and the whole time he barely reacts.

Like that's such an alarming thing to see as a what, 8 year old child?? Why is this child as numb and detached as the 28 year old Juwon? That's just Not Normal. Why is he so stoic seeing his mum being dragged away while she screams his name and cries? I just can't comprehend what he must've gone through to be numb to that scene.

You see kids in other dramas in similar situations and the kids always scream and cry or at least they say something, he on the other hand has already given up. It's breaking my heart

oh yeah, it's so depressing how joo won just goes. dead quiet. he only calls after his mom once in that scene (and really quietly, too), and then he freezes and returns to his place when he overhears his mom saying that thing about idk if it was exactly if you keep joo won, will you let me go? or maybe it was the other way around . . . in any case, it was enough for joo won to freeze and go back to his place and just watch.

i'm adding a "read more" bc this got long and also mayhaps spoiler-y and yes, even though it's literally been a year since beyond evil, i still feel the need to do this:

and even when his mom keeps yelling for him . . . my heart aches for joo won, and it's also telling how the beyond evil title (which, the original title actually translates literally to "monster") is superimposed over baby joo won's face, which i think is meant to imply how joo won sort of internalized that entire moment for himself/is probably at least somewhat ashamed of himself for that. (and we see that come up from time to time, and we see just how traumatized he was by that moment later, esp. when ki hwan talks about him . . . i really despise han ki hwan on so many levels, but i think he was at least partially correct in that joo won is terrified of reaching out to people. i wOnder wHy)

the thing about joo won is that i think he was just. always alone. in the script book, i think it's noted that there was a point in his childhood when he'd cry to his nanny about why his mom doesn't actually love him (which . . . i think joo won's mom must have loved him, but she was never present and never . . . mentally available enough for him), and apparently his nanny tried to cheer him up, but even back then, little joo won didn't believe those kinds of words. (and this was even before that traumatizing event.)

oh, and then if we think about how joo won's mom had even tried to take her own life . . . just when you have a parent who's tried to take their own lives, that leaves the child with a lot of trauma too. and something about the way that joo won reacts to his mom makes me think that this isn't the first time. because the first time a child--a child--learns that their parent tried to take their life, they cry or they scream or they do literally anything in their power to make sure that their parent never does that kind of thing again. (because they're kids. they don't know any better, but they do know that if i want my mom to stay alive, i need to be extra good. they do things like try not to take up too much space--they try not to ask for too much from their moms, and sometimes, if it's really bad, they'll just hug them for a long time.)

but the fact that joo won doesn't even react to that tells me that this is something he's seen at least a few times. and that kills me too, because at this point in his life, joo won's seven years old. he's fucking seven, and he's already seen this much to the point where he's not even surprised/doesn't even actually react. it's sad and it makes me want to pick him up and take him away from that house because god. god.

but anyways, even despite all that, i think joo won's always felt ashamed for not reaching out to his mom. he brings it up in conversation with jae yi about how he never looked for his mom--and by the end of the series, we see him drop off flowers at his mom's grave and promise to come back. (which always makes me cry, because the soft way he says "umma" makes me feel a certain kind of way.)

#answered #anon #beyond evil #i just always feel sad about joo won's childhood especially especially #there's just something so . . . #tw suicide #tw suicide attempt #i think a lot about joo won and his relationship with his mom :(

[tarydarrington]

oh no oh no

i never noticed the parallel between bren overhearing his parents talking about betraying the empire and caleb overhearing essek talking about betraying the dynasty

#the way in the first case it was a false memory but he still acted on it with violence as his first resort #whereas with essek his strategy was just to talk to him #and even though that included very real threats and even though it turned out that he really did do what it seemed he had #they came through the other side together #but how traumatic it must have been to overhear something like that Again!!! fuck!!!! #critical role #caleb widogast #shadowgast #mn #crtalk #caleb #cr2 spoilers #critical role spoilers

[much-obliged-timothy]

Dad Tim & Uncle Rhys Part 5

Guess who was supposed to be doing work all day and instead had a minor mental breakdown and wrote this for stress relief!! (Hint: it’s me). Hopefully anyone else who is dragging through the day can find a little joy in this! You can find part one here 

“No,” Tim said without looking up from the paperwork spread out in front of him.

“But-” Rhys started.

“You’ll save money, but piss off the supplier,” Tim said. “No. Bad deal.”

“But I’ll save a lot of money,” Rhys pointed out.

“Yea, and when the supplier gets fed up and quits?” Tim said. “Then what, genius? You’ll have to blow money securing a new supplier.”

Rhys scowled, but found he couldn’t argue Tim’s valid point. Plus, Tim usually made good calls on these issues. Rhys just hated agreeing with Tim because it fed his damn ego.

“Fine, fine,” Rhys said at last. “You’re…”

“Say it,” Tim said.

“You’re right,” Rhys grumbled reluctantly. 

Tim didn’t grin and taunt Rhys like he normally did. He was still looking through the papers, unconsciously rubbing at his temples with his real hand.

“Timothy, are you okay?” Rhys said.

“Huh? Fine, just tired,” Tim said, leaning back and stretching. “Joys of fatherhood. Your kid keeps you up all night.”

Phoenix looked up from where he’d been sitting quietly in the corner, playing with his tattered bear. “I didn’t. You’re a liar.”

“Yea, fine, sell me out,” Tim said. “He slept through most of the night. I...just couldn’t last night. Sucks, but I’ll make it through the work day and crash when I get home.” 

“Nightmares?” Rhys said, lowering his voice so Phoenix wouldn’t overhear.

Tim ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it. “A parting gift from Jack. Fuck, Rhys, I’ve gotta hold it together. He needs me to keep it together.”

“Go get some coffee, at least,” Rhys said. “If you want to be a good parent, you need to keep yourself healthy.”

“I have no clue how to be a good parent,” Tim said, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “I never planned to have kids. I didn’t even think I could anymore. Learned that lesson the hard way. I’m doing my best, but it’s hard when I start breaking down myself.” 

Rhys knew someone who could get Tim some strong coffee to help him through the day, at least. He picked up his ECHO, establishing a feed.

“Hey, do me a favor and get some good, strong coffee,” he said. “And bring it to my office. Please.”

“Needy much?” Lorelei’s voice responded. “You’re lucky I was heading to get myself some. See you soon.”

“Rhys-” Tim started to protest.

“I need you sharp,” Rhys said, then lowered his voice again. “And so does your son.”

“Fuck,” Tim muttered, running his hands through his hair again. “Phoenix, are you good? Shit, did you have lunch today? What time is it?”

“No, dad,” Phoenix said.

“Shit.” He rubbed at his temples. “Alright, let me go grab your lunch out of my office. You can eat while we finish up this paperwork.”

Phoenix shook his head. “Nah, dad, you forgot it. You didn’t bring any lunch. I checked.”

“I didn’t?” Tim groaned. “Right. Why would I bring lunch? It’s not like kids need to eat.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rhys said, connecting the feed to Lorelei again. “Hey, can you grab three lunches, too? I’ll pay you back. Grab yourself something, too.”

“Well, aren’t you generous,” she said.

“I am!” Rhys said indignantly. 

He cut the feed before she could taunt him. Maybe it’d be a bad idea to put her and Tim in a room together.

Phoenix approached them, hesitating before grabbing Tim’s sleeve. “Dad? You okay?”

“Fine,” Tim said, ruffling his hair. “Just tired. Sorry about lunch. Dad’s a freaking mess.”

“I know,” Phoenix said, which earned a surprised laugh from Tim and Rhys. But then Phoenix rested his head against Tim’s arm and gripped his sleeve tighter. “I still love you, dad. Even if you forgot lunch.” 

Tim closed his eyes, shifting his hand from Phoenix’s head to his shoulder to pull him in close. “I love you too, pal.”

Rhys watched them, wondering how Jack could’ve ever treated his child so cruelly. Tim clearly hadn’t meant to become a father, but he’d stepped up to the role the best he could and tried his hardest. He and his son were fucked up and traumatized, but Tim worked hard for a better life for both of them. Rhys respected that, even if he wanted to slap Tim 90% of the time.

“You don’t gotta feel bad, dad. Boss guy said he’s gonna get lunch,” Phoenix said, nuzzling his head against Tim’s arm. 

“Bet it’ll come out of my paycheck,” Tim said, but he was smiling a little. “I’m more excited for the coffee than the food.”

Tim lifted Phoenix onto his lap, securing an arm around him before returning his attention back to the paperwork in front of him. Rhys glanced at the sliver of blue in Phoenix’s eye before forcing himself to look back at the paperwork.

About ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Rhys called for whoever it was to enter, pleased as Lorelei came in with a tray of coffees in one hand and a large bag of food in the other.

“Hey, I got the- well,” she said, looking at Tim and Phoenix. “You must be...uh...was it Jim?”

“Tim,” Tim corrected. “And you are…?”

“Your savior,” she said, setting coffee down for all of them, hesitating with one in her hand.”When you said three lunches, I assumed you meant for adults. Can the little guy have coffee?”

“Absolutely not. If he has coffee, I’ll have an aneurysm,” Tim said, swatting it away. “He won’t like it, anyways.”

Phoenix had gone still in the way he did when he was afraid. He glanced at the door, pressing himself closer to Tim.

“This is Lorelei,” Rhys introduced. “Lorelei, my employee, Tim, and his son, Phoenix.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” Tim said. “And, uh, the food.”

“Right, grabbed some burgers and fries,” she said, setting the bag down and opening it. She took out a container of fries, holding it out to Phoenix. “Here, since you have a horrid father who won’t let you drink coffee, I’ve made the decision you can eat fries before the real meal.” 

“Hey, I was doing you all a favor. He gets jittery and high-strung when he’s had too much caffeine,” Tim said. He nudged Phoenix. “Go on. Your horrid father will let you have fries.”

Phoenix waited for Tim to take the fries, but Tim made no move to. Lorelei kept a pleasant smile on her face, even as the silence stretched out.

“If you won’t eat them, I will,” Tim warned.

Phoenix hesitantly reached for the fries. He paused his arm as it got close, looking to Tim. Tim nodded and Phoenix cautiously took the fries from Lorelei, snatching them away when she let go and tensing up as if he’d have to fight for them.

“I’ve got my own,” Lorelei assured him. “You’re quick, though. Bet you’ll have quite the trigger finger when you’re older.”

“I can shoot,” he said, a little defensively. “My parents taught me.”

“He, uh, grew up in a...rough neighborhood,” Tim said. 

“That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one,” Rhys said. 

Tim shrugged and reached for a fry. Phoenix smacked his hand away.

“Nu-uh,” he said. “You don’t feel good. You gotta eat a burger first, dad.”

“I feel fine, and I’m the adult here!” Tim argued. “Which is...mildly terrifying to be reminded of, but still relevant.” 

“Dunno what you’re saying, but you still gotta eat a burger first,” Phoenix said. 

“I like this kid!” Lorelei said, laughing. “Hey, want to see my gun? Just got a new one. Customized and everything.”

“It’s a new Atlas model,” Rhys said proudly. But then the smile dropped off his face. “Wait, what?! He’s like...I don’t actually know how old he is, but you can’t just let a kid play with your gun!” 

“Don’t listen to boss guy. I wanna see,” Phoenix said.

Rhys stuttered out a response, flustered. Usually, Phoenix was only this talkative and bold when it was just Rhys and Tim, or sometimes even with Zer0 around. Rhys didn’t know if it was the work he did with Tim to build his confidence, or if being safely in Tim’s lap was making him bold, but Rhys had not expected the kid to demand to see a deadly weapon like it was some new toy to play with.

He was even more surprised as Tim didn’t protest when Lorelei unholstered her gun and held it out to Phoenix. He took it carefully, holding it in a way that announced he knew how to handle a gun, but that this one was a little too heavy for his little arms.

Tim put a hand under Phoenix’s to help support the weight. Father and son looked the gun over with interest, and Rhys silently debated if he wanted to smack all three of the people in his office upside the head or just go jump out of the window so he didn’t have to deal with this anymore.

“Easy,” Tim said as Phoenix tried to aim it. “Here, let me…” He helped support the weight again, guiding Phoenix’s aim so that the gun was pointed at a chair in the corner of the office. “Don’t fire it. That damage will also come out of my paycheck.”

“I know you’re not s’pose to shoot in boss guy’s office,” Phoenix said, but he was tapping his finger on the trigger. “What’d that old guy let me shoot? ‘Fore we left the casino.”

“Who, Zane?” Tim said. “I think he had a Jakobs pistol. You’ve never used an Atlas weapon. I’ll get you a lighter one to practice with sometime.”

“Timothy!” Rhys said. “He’s a child!”

Tim normally shrugged and teased Rhys, but today, he looked uncertain. “Well...it’s just…”

Rhys frowned. He hadn’t expected to actually manage to guilt Tim. 

“Fuck,” Tim breathed out, putting his face in his hands. He lifted it after a moment, gently taking the gun from Phoenix’s hands and passing it to Lorelei. “Thanks for letting him check it out. Phoenix, why don’t you go eat while Rhys and I finish up here? You can eat the fries first, but eat the burger too. And if you pick the lettuce out, put it in the trash, don’t just throw it on the ground.”

Phoenix climbed out of Tim’s lap, taking the foil-wrapped burger Tim offered him. “Can I see it again sometime?” he said to Lorelei.

“Sure thing, kid,” she said. “And I’ll sneak you a little coffee, too. Deal?”

“Deal!” he said, wandering off to the corner to sit with his meal.

“Tim?” Rhys pressed quietly.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Rhys,” Tim said, sounding tired and scared as he put his face back in his hands. “My mom wouldn’t even buy me a toy gun when I was his age because she thought it was too violent. Fuck, I was raised by my mom. I don’t exactly have a dad to try to model myself after. And he- I love him but he- It was just an accident that we had him. We were totally unprepared. And now that I’ve got him out in the real world, somewhere relatively safe, I have no idea how to be a normal parent or how to give him a normal childhood.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but you live on Promethea,” Lorelei said. “No one here has a normal childhood. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe there’s violence in his life, but if he has a parent who loves him and teaches him how to use a gun to keep him safe, I don’t think that’s so bad.” 

“She’s right,” Rhys said, a little alarmed because he’d never seen Tim look so distraught and, well, hopeless. “Tim, that kid wouldn’t say a word when you first brought him here. He’s getting better. It’s slow, but it is progress. You love him and you do everything you can for him. You’re not the most, um, conventional dad, but you’re not a bad one.” 

Tim didn’t lift his head. Rhys glanced over, unsurprised to see Phoenix watching, his body stiff in fear and his eyes wide as he watched his dad. 

He spotted Rhys and tensed up even more. Rhys gestured him over, pointing to Tim.

Phoenix got to his feet and slowly approached Tim. He tugged on Tim’s sleeve until he picked his head up.

“I’m okay,” Tim said. “Just tired. And struggling with years of emotional trauma, but that’s nothing new.”

Phoenix held out a fry to him. “You can have one before your burger, dad. But just one.”

That brought a weak smile to Tim’s face as he accepted the fry. “Yea, alright, that’s fair.”

Phoenix put his arms around Tim as far as he could. Tim hugged him back, closing his eyes tightly and kissing Phoenix’s head.

“I change my mind,” Tim said, opening his eyes and slowly releasing Phoenix. “Come eat with us, pal. And if you don’t want the lettuce, you can ball it up and throw it at Rhys for target practice.”

“Hey!” Rhys whined.

“You made me emotional, so my kid gets to use your face for target practice,” Tim said, swiping his arm across his eyes. 

Phoenix gathered his food and crawled back into Tim’s lap. He looked so at ease and so safe there, that Rhys wondered how Tim could ever think he was doing a poor job caring for this kid.

Phoenix pulled the lettuce out of his burger, balling it up. Rhys raised a folder as a shield, but Lorelei snatched it from him.

“Now, kid!” she said.

Phoenix threw it at Rhys’ face, bursting into laughter when it clung to Rhys’ nose. Rhys glared at him, but could hardly keep it up when even Tim and Lorelei had joined in the laughter.

“You’re all miserable,” Rhys said, peeling the lettuce off his face and dropping it in the garbage.

“Nice aim,” Tim said, ruffling Phoenix’s hair. He paused, glancing at Rhys. “Huh. You know, he’s really comfortable around you. You’re basically like an uncle to him.”

“What? No!” Rhys said. “I’m your boss!”

“Oh, oh, if Rhys is the boring uncle, can I be like the fun cousin?” Lorelei said. “Here, Phoenix, take my lettuce. Round two.”

“I hate you. All of you. It’s crucial that you know that,” Rhys announced.

“M’kay, boss guy,” Phoenix said, squealing with laughter as he threw more lettuce, this time with it clinging to Rhys’ forehead.

“Yea, maybe I’m not doing so bad,” Tim said, laughing and hugging Phoenix to his chest. “Thanks for everything, Rhys.”

Rhys wanted to object, but Phoenix was giving Lorelei a high-five, and Tim looked overjoyed to hear his son laughing so openly. Rhys sank back in his chair, crossing his arms as Tim unwrapped his burger and let Phoenix take the lettuce from it.

He didn’t even try to defend himself this time. As Phoenix’s laughter exploded throughout the room again and Rhys pried lettuce from his cheek, he cursed Handsome Jack for not sterilizing Tim and saving Rhys this fate.

But even he couldn’t help but join in the laughter in the end. It was a pain in the ass most days, but being dragged into Tim’s and Phoenix’s lives wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to him, that was for sure.

#borderlands #timothy lawrence #borderlands rhys #dad tim & uncle rhys #borderlands au #My writing

[percontaion-points]

Raven King chapter 12

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions.

Chapter 12

The following chapter review contains discussion about sexual assault and statutory rape that might be difficult to read.

Neil seriously doubted it took six cops to rule Drake's death as a justified case of self-defense.

I'm no criminal law expert, but I'm pretty sure that even something like this is going to take more than a few hours to sort through. Neil should probably be grateful if this doesn't end up going to trial.

And even then, there's no accounting for civil suits about wrongful death. Just because the city isn't pressing charges doesn't mean Drake's family won't.

Andrew hadn't told him about Drake, but he'd said Luther betrayed his trust. Instead of listening to that, Neil sided with Nicky's hopeful grief. He hadn't invited Drake to South Carolina, but he'd delivered Andrew into his waiting arms.

I'm sorry, but nobody expects to be led into a sexual assault trap. Especially not with random third-hand knowledge of these people. And especially not because there was no way that any of them could have guessed that Neil's solution would be that he and Kevin would tag along, too.

I get that survivor's guilt is a real thing, and it's a bitch to deal with. But how the hell was anybody supposed to know that a rapist was hiding upstairs?

"If I were you I'd be more concerned with Nicky. He came down here thinking he was going to fix his family, but now his entire family's fallen apart."

When your parents arrange to have your cousin violently raped, it does tend to break families apart, yes.

"Drake's crimes aside, he met a violent end only a few feet from you. It would be natural and completely understandable if you felt some sort of shock or grief."

[…]

"I don't," Neil said flatly. "And you know what? Neither does Andrew."

I get not being upset over Drake's death. But for both of them to be so completely unconcerned over not only Andrew's sexual assault, but also what's likely to end up being a long investigation that will likely result in a trial... is more worrying than anything.

"I'm sorry," Betsy said. "I know what this means for your season."

"You worry about Andrew," Wymack said. "I'll worry about my season."

SOMEBODY IS FUCKING DEAD. ONE KID JUST WENT THROUGH A REALLY TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE, AND THE OTHER IS FACING HOMICIDE CHARGES.

GET SOME FUCKING GODDAMNED PERSPECTIVE HERE.

Neil didn't really believe in luck, but he watched them go and hoped for it anyway.

Chapter 12 summary: Neil waits at the hospital. He legit doesn't understand why this isn't just brushed under the rug. And part of me gets it, because we know that Drake had been attacking Andrew, who was a bloody mess. But the police came in and all they saw was blood and a man bludgeoned to death with an exy racket. Of course this needs to be investigated and to figure out if somebody needs to in jail for this.

David shows up, although Neil thinks that the drive from the school up to the hospital doesn't add up, so figures Kevin must have called him before calling 911. Neil talks about getting his racket back from the police, because priorities. He also talks about calling Officer Higgins, because he's been looking into Drake for having raped a bunch of foster children.

When Andrew comes out, he's more annoyed that David is there. They go to a house, where Abby and Betsy were waiting. Despite the fact that Andrew was the one assaulted, they want Neil to talk to Betsy. Because reasons. Neil is just drowning with guilt over the entire thing. He talks about Higgins needing to look into this, but Andrew said that Higgins has known for a long time about Drake. But that Higgins did nothing, because he and Drake were friends. So he turned a blind eye to all of the assaults, the statutory rapes, all of the abused foster children under his care. Of which Andrew insists that there weren't supposed to have been more children after he went through the home, but there were, and now there are more victims. Andrew also admits that Drake tried to convince Aaron to come over when they were younger so that he could assault Aaron, too. Later, Neil tells David that Luther was in on this arranged rape. That he knew what Drake had done to Andrew when they were kids, but Luther still allowed this man to squat in his house and wait for Andrew to show up.

The next morning, Neil ends up “running errands” with Betsy, who uses it as an excuse to talk with Neil. Asks for him to explain what happened, that how did he know who Drake was? Neil says that he had enough of a feeling, knew enough from what Andrew had previously told him, to know that he'd need a weapon. But after he kicked the door in, he was literally off-balance. Aaron took the racket from him and knocked Drake upside the head exactly once, since it was the new, heavy racket. Again, Neil is more upset over losing the racket than even the fact that Andrew was assaulted.

Neil picks up some new clothes, since his current ones are covered in blood. He meets up with Betsy who is grocery shopping. They then pick up a new practice racket for Neil, who again feels guilty over the price. And then Betsy drops him off at Nicky's parents' place for him to pick up Andrew's knives. Maria is there, and doesn't want Neil inside again, but Neil throws exactly what she did into her face and goes up to the room. It's a literal bloody mess, and he has to stop and just look at everything for a moment. He grabs the knives, gets into Andrew's car, and drives it back over to where they're all staying.

Back at the other house, Neil overhears the adults talking. And then Abby tells Neil that they're going to reverse Andrew's court-ordered meds, and put him into a place where he can be watched 24/7 while he comes down from the meds and gets clean. That this is the first step for Andrew to ever move forward.

#All For The Game #The Raven King #chapter 12 #Neil Josten #do you even know how the justice system works? #Aaron and Andrew Minyard #shitty people are shitty #Kevin Day #Nicky Hemmick #David Wymack #priorities: get some

[the-siren-saga]

Moirah’s Quest

The ship was quiet as it neared the unmapped subrealm of Altamir'zin. The only sound was the soft mechanical whirring and beeping of the ship's various systems, working hour after hour to keep the crew alive and moving.

"Uvall," Moirah said softly, resting her hand on her assistant's shoulder in an attempt to put the nervous man at ease. "Are we nearly there?"

"Yes, ma'am," the wiry and somewhat high-strung Dekn answered. He hated how easily he seemed to slip into his old timid, servile persona, especially with the great pains that Moirah had taken to make sure he knew it was unnecessary since he'd come into her employ.

"You can just call me Moirah, you know."

Uvall chuckled lightly, though it was more for her benefit than his own. He didn't like seeming traumatized in a way that could be seen as inconvenient. "Ha, yeah, old habits. Sorry 'bout that," he laughed, in a rather forced manner. "But, yeah, we're getting close. I used the codes Lysandra gave us to hack the IFF so the border system thinks we're a Purple Rose ship."

Moirah smiled brightly and patted her assistant on the shoulder. "You're a fucking genius, Uvall. Great work." He really had made a lot of progress since they’d started working together. Moirah was never one for mentorship, but when she met Uvall, she felt there was no other choice. So, she started teaching him her trade– security, diplomacy, information dealing, and infiltration– and found that he excelled in it.

"Hey, we're almost there," Uvall said after a while, before picking up the mic. "Purple Rose vessel 87724 requesting clearance for entry."

A muffled voice came through the other side. "Glory to the Faithful, for we shall ensure His Ascension."

Uvall looked back at Moirah, who flashed him a sympathetic, concerned look. Do I have to? he asked her through their mental link.

Yeah, Moirah replied. I'm sorry, I know it hurts.

Uvall swallowed his pride, giving the countersign. "Glory to the God-Emperor, for by His Ascension shall our faith be rewarded." To his credit, the immense revulsion he had at that phrase didn't really show in his voice.

"Welcome, my brother in service. What's your destination?" the guard asked.

Uvall cringed, but pushed forward, his resolve stronger than steel. "I have a lowly piece of heretical scum with me who requires purification by the Twenty-Second Sacrament."

"Name and division?"

Uvall had been prepared for this, and slipped a new name into the registry. "Jessamine Thallios," he answered immediately. "Of the Samael'evri encampment."

The guard laughed at this. "All the way out there? Well, shit. No wonder she was tempted to heresy so easily."

They have no idea, Moirah transmitted to her assistant. She had changed into a simple white dress and put a glamour on herself, so that to most who saw her, she would appear much younger and less threatening. "Here, dope me," she said matter-of-factly once the radio was off, handing Uvall a vial and a syringe.

"...You sure about this?"

"As sure as I've ever been of anything," Moirah answered in the same brisk tones. "Just do it before they figure out we're up to something."

Uvall performed the injection with the unflinching proficiency of a practiced medic, catching Moirah as the drug began to take effect and bringing her to rest on a gurney that they'd wheeled onto the ship for precisely this purpose. The drug in the syringe was a formula that Moirah had stolen from one of Andras's facilities a long time ago, capable of inducing what looked like a deep sleep while preserving all higher brain function and psionic abilities.

From this point until he woke her up, he would be on his own.

"87724, hang tight, we're bringing you in for processing."

Within a few minutes, Uvall had wheeled Moirah into an expansive brutalist monstrosity of a compound. Processing, as the guard had called it, was a long and grueling series of questions meant to gauge the nature and severity of "Jessamine's" crimes. After what seemed like hours, the session was, mercifully, over. "Through this door," the interrogator said, "then down that hallway until you see a blue metal door with a sign that says CR 1–25. Those are the conditioning rooms. Take her into room ten. Our Eternal Master is here at the facility today, so He will take it from there."

He's here?! Uvall thought to himself, taking refuge in Moirah's shield to avoid anyone else overhearing. "Thank you. Elucidis be praised," he said by way of greeting, bowing his head respectfully. If the interrogator returned the greeting, Uvall didn't stop to acknowledge it.

On the way to the conditioning rooms, Uvall began to get a massive, pounding headache, intercut with moments that seemed to be seen through another's eyes, and cast in a strange, purple light...

"You are a disgrace to me, Malistrade," Marchosias sneered, striking his Consort across the face. "You knew about the treachery of Lysandra Myrrine, her little ‘Random Element’ scheme, and you did nothing to prevent the HARM THAT HER ACTIONS WOULD CAUSE."

Malistrade staggered backward, gripping a table to balance himself. "Master, I… I never intended to aid her by my inaction, there were so many possible futures surrounding the Irinith child's escape that I–"

"Don't try to explain yourself. Your gift belongs to me, just like the rest of you, and you've betrayed me by keeping your visions a secret."

Uvall stopped in the middle of the hallway, nearly doubling over from how clearly he saw and felt everything in that vision. Was that retrocognition, or was Malistrade actually here? Suddenly, he felt very small. Usually, when he saw through the eyes of one of the others in his triad, he could count on Moirah to reassure and comfort him. He could count on her to be there for him until it passed and to remind him to take care of himself while it was happening.

He brushed a strand of hair out of Moirah's face as they neared CR 10. Not much longer now, he transmitted, knowing she could still hear him through the effects of the sedative.

The door to Conditioning Room 10 opened automatically as Uvall entered with Moirah, and immediately, he felt the intensely blissful presence of Marchosias Aversen. Malistrade, who was standing at attention against the back wall, locked eyes with Uvall, and an unspoken contract formed between the two. We protect each other. We have no other choice.

Marchosias, much friendlier and more affable than he'd been in Uvall's vision, stepped forward to greet him. "It's great to see you. I must admit, I don't make it out to Samael'evri very often, but it pleases me to know that even so far from me, there are those of you who keep the faith." He put one hand on Uvall's shoulder, pulling him slightly closer. "Malistrade, guard the door. I don't want anyone walking in on us."

"As you command," Malistrade answered promptly, moving to exit the room and stand guard.

"Now that we're alone– well, alone with the exception of the sedated heretic you've brought me– I think you and I should have a talk."

Uvall scanned the room for things he could use to his advantage. Marchosias's back was turned to Moirah, that was good. He slipped his hand in his pocket, and found the device that Moirah had given him– a device that, when activated, would tell the bracelet around her wrist to produce an electric shock that would wake her from her chemically induced sleep. Not yet, he thought to himself. Soon, but not yet. "Yes, my God-Emperor. Anything you wish."

Marchosias smiled wickedly and looked deep into Uvall's eyes, causing him to reflexively look down. "You know, I very rarely have problems with my Consort. I've trained him well, and his behavior is, most of the time, exemplary. But today, since you've shown up, he seems to have picked up a bit of a rebellious streak." Caressing Uvall's shoulder, he lowered his voice, slipping into a hypnotic baritone. "Now, I wonder why it is that a farm boy from Samael'evri could have that effect on him. Tell me who you are, I want the satisfaction of hearing you say it in your own voice."

"I'm… I'm Ezra Thallios. Jessamine's my sister. If you'll double check the membership manifest, you'll see both our names listed…"

He could feel himself succumbing. The power was too strong– if he kept fighting it, he'd end up like Shanna, with no more strength to resist.

"Nonsense. There is no Jessamine and Ezra Thallios. You are Uvall Candon, and that woman's name is Moirah Averil." Marchosias paused for a moment. "Which means that you brought Moirah Averil right to me. Asleep." He turned to Moirah, cupping her cheek with his hand. "What a prize you've brought me, Uvall. I knew that I could turn that… connection my Consort seems to have with you to my advantage."

"It was easy," Uvall said, thanking the Hethe for making him such a good actor. "She was willing to walk right into the belly of the beast as long as there was even a chance of finding the Herald again."

"She'll do much better in my service. As will you, Uvall. You, and Malistrade, and that unfortunate test subject of Andras's… think of the endless possibilities," Marchosias purred, turning back to Uvall, his voice becoming hypnotic once again. "Say you'll be mine. Say that I own you, that you can't get enough of me, that you long to please me."

"I… I belong to…" It was so easy to fall into this. It felt so nice.

Another vision of another room in another facility much like this. Marchosias whispering into Shanna's ear. "You can walk away from this free and safe, as long as you just… let… go."

"I'm the apprentice of Moirah Averil, and I sure as fuck don't belong to you," he said, activating the device.

Moirah jolted awake and gripped the back of Marchosias's neck before he knew what was happening. Using the same bracelet that had woken her up, she delivered a shock powerful enough to paralyze him, sending him crumpling to the ground. "You… you treacherous…"

"It's not going to work, Marchosias. You know what I can do." Moirah kicked him in the stomach, enjoying the way he was unable to defend himself. "I'd wager that I'm one of only three people in the Lathrym you've ever been scared of."

Marchosias hissed in pain. "I'm not scared of–"

"You're scared of consequences. You're scared of the things you can't break, the things you can't control. You are terrified of random elements, and regardless of anyone else's claims to the title? I'm the most unpredictable of them all. And I bet that just makes you wake up in a cold sweat, doesn't it." She kicked him again, snickering quietly as he cried out. "This is nothing compared to the pain you've inflicted upon others, Marchosias. Nothing. Caris Euphrasia, Laurien Adaire, Timothée Solal, Penperin Ilsenthe, Idele Serrion… Shanna Averil."

"I gave Shanna Averil everything," he spat. "You have no right to take her from me."

She bent down, taking Marchosias's ceremonial dagger from its sheath and holding it to his neck. "Tell me where she is, or I will kill you where you lie."

It's not his time yet, Moirah, Uvall spoke into her mind. Malistrade showed me what must come to pass. There's no way it'll be this easy.

It's not like he knows that, Moirah transmitted in return.

"You think I'd tell you, Moirah? You haven't been very nice to me," Marchosias teased with a confident smirk.

She drew the dagger across his neck, enough to draw blood while not doing any serious damage. "Don't test me," she hissed. "I have suffered too much and lost too many to care if I hurt you now."

"Room six," he said, his expression revealing not a trace of fear or worry over the predicament. "But if you think this is over, you're severely–"

"I've heard enough." Dropping the dagger, she charged the bracelet and grabbed the back of his neck again, this time hitting him with enough of a charge to knock the Dekn Master out for at least a few hours. "Dear God of Beetles, I can still feel his hand on my– Where's Shanna?" she asked. "I don't trust a word out of his mouth, I need to be certain."

"Room six, I made sure. Get his keycard." After the brief moment it took for Moirah to get the keycard, and Uvall to switch off the cameras in the hallway and erase the footage from CR 10, the two of them left the room. "If he asks, I incapacitated you," Uvall said casually to Malistrade before heading to room six. Malistrade said nothing in return, but could be seen to smile a bit in pride, despite himself.

***

Gripping the sides of her cot and quietly crying, Shanna Averil looked like a completely different person than she was when Moirah last saw her. "...Aunt Moirah?" she asked weakly, looking up to see Moirah and Uvall enter the room.

Moirah stepped closer, expanding her shield to envelop the other woman and nullify her ability. "Yes, Shanna, it's me. I'm here," she whispered, helping her off of the cot. "I've got you, don't worry. We're going home now."

"Back to Ersis?" she asked, clinging to her rescuer for dear life.

"Back with me."

Moirah and Shanna Averil had both been through so much pain, so much sorrow, just to get to this point, but it was okay. They had each other now, they were a family again. And nothing could change that.

#arkn legacy #arkn x #arkn mythos #the siren's saga #the siren saga #this is IT guys this is the one i've been waiting to publish

[shockcity]

HP fic - Drunk in Love

Rating: M

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Summary: basically Ron suffers. Harry and Draco are in love.

AN: what do you mean thats a Beyoncé song

also, @amloveabledeathmo is an instigator

“He’s late,” said Ron, checking his watch for the fourth time in ten minutes.

Seamus did not seem concerned. “Held up by Robards again, I reckon,” he speculated. “He’s got that lecture whatsits.”

“Oh. Right.”

Ron had forgotten about Harry’s upcoming lecture at Hogwarts, in which he would give an awkward speech to the bright-eyed students of The Git’s DADA class all about the Amazing Life of an Auror. It’s just paperwork and cursed doorknobs. Hardly amazing, Harry had grumbled. There was also the repeated reports of Voldemort Is In My Yard Please Send Help, but Harry didn’t like to talk about those. Not even to complain.

So what with the life of an Auror not being glamorous in the least, and Harry’s natural aversion to talking about anything personal, it wasn’t all that surprising that it took Robards two months to convince him to do it. Good for recruitment, he’d said at first until eventually he’d resorted to, do it or Weasley’s fired which worked and Ron found hilarious.

“Doom and Gloom has entered the building,” Seamus suddenly announced. Ron turned to the fireplace and saw Harry step out, his expression hangdog.

He slouched over to the bar and huddled next to Ron.

“Firewhiskey,” he said to Hannah when she raised her eyebrows at him.

“Bad day, Harry?” she asked sympathetically.

He shook his head. “Bad life,” he said, and stared at the shot Hannah had poured for him. “Can I have more?”

She frowned. “How much more?”

“All of it.”

Ron clapped him on the back. “Steady on, mate,” he said. “Tell your pal Ron what’s ailing you.”

“Yeah, tell us,” Seamus agreed. “We care. Also we like to laugh at you.”

“You’re both the worst.”

Harry threw back his shot and cradled his other one, glaring into the distance with dead, dead eyes.

“It was Malfoy. He dropped by the office to ‘make sure I wasn’t going to traumatize his students’ or ‘make them think my impressive degree of stupidity is actually acceptable in real life’ and also that I ‘comb my hair for once.’ It was horrible and I regret so much.”

He sipped at his glass this time, looking broody. “Why is it always me?” he muttered.

Ron exchanged a look with Seamus. “When are you expected to do it?” he asked.

“Next week. For four classes. Malfoy says I’m supposed to collaborate with him, too. He insisted and everything, which, honestly? A bit suspicious. I’m beginning to think Malfoy is up to something.”

Dean, who had just emerged from the loo and was coming toward them with a smile on his face, suddenly halted in his tracks. When he heard 'Malfoy’ and 'up to something’ his eyes widened and he turned right around and left. Smart lad. Ron was jealous.

“….and he was a git about that too. Kept going on and on about my wardrobe. What’s wrong with cable knit anyway? Fuck if I know. Not good enough for Draco Malfoy. Or, excuse me, Professor Malfoy. Hah. Professor Arseface, more like. Git. Too bad the position isn’t still cursed. Do you think we could put it back on? Maybe a spell that causes discomfort in hard to reach areas – ”

“I’ve gotta go,” Seamus said, before taking up his pint and running away like the coward he was.

Ron grabbed at his robes but it was a lost cause. Warily, he turned back to Harry with a pained smile and interrupted his muttering.

“Harry,” he said. “Mate. Maybe slow down a bit? That’s your fourth shot and even Hannah’s looking concerned.”

“She’s a good person,” Harry said morosely, and then hiccuped. “Not like Malfoy. Twat. I like him. No. I don’t like him. What am I saying.”

Ron blinked and looked away. “Why is this happening to me?” he whispered to himself.

Harry patted him on the arm. “Because Malfoy,” he mumbled.

Which yeah. Alright. But also Harry. Malfoy and Harry. When was it not Malfoy and Harry?

“It always comes down to you two,” he sighed.

Harry’s head suddenly whipped around and he looked at Ron with horrified eyes. “I would not go down on him, Ron, oh my god.”

“Wait. What?”

“Ok, maybe the once.”

And that was about all he could take sober. “Hannah, love?” he called down the bar. “Top off? Actually, just bring the bottle. Yeah, all of it. Quickly.”

“Just to see what it was like, you know?”

“Quicker.”

“Why do you keep looking around?” Ron asked, squinting at Harry.

Harry looked cagey. “No reason.”

Ron’s best friend was a bad liar. “What have we done now?” He slurped at the foam at the top of his beer.

“You haven’t done anything and neither have I.”

“Harry.” Ron stuck a finger in his face. “I am you and you are me and we are we. You get arrested? I get arrested. You get clobbered? I get clobbered. You follow spiders? Somehow I follow spiders I still don’t understand how that happened. You throw up and start sobbing about baby animals after only six pints? I clean up your vomit and laugh for a long, long time. You’re like my brother, do you understand?”

Seamus, who had been loitering to the left of them, shook his head at Ron. “You’re so drunk,” he mused.

“Very much,” Ron agreed. “Now, what are you looking for? Or who. Is it a who? Who could it be? All your friends are here already.”

Harry discretely wiped his eyes and huffed. “I have other friends.”

“Nah.”

He huffed again. “Jokes on you because I’ve invited someone.”

Ron’s eyebrows shot up. “Eh?”

Seamus looked equally surprised. “Did you get a boyfriend?”

Harry’s lack of response had them all crowing.

“Great Gods! He’s finally getting rogered!” Seamus shouted.

“Today he becomes a man,” Dean nodded solemnly.

“Everybody! This is my son,” Ron announced loudly, clasping Harry’s shoulder. “And on this momentous day, this day of all days, my son, whom I have raised, will finally experience the passions of the body – ”

“I see you’re as idiotic as ever, Weasley,” came a very familiar voice from behind them. “Good to know some things don’t change.”

Ron groaned. “Not you. Go away. We’re celebrating.”

Malfoy crossed his arms. “Excuse you, I was invited.”

The table went silent.

“Oi! You lot!” Hannah shouted at them from the bar. “Anymore shouting and I’ll cut you off!”

“Hello, is this the My Best Friend is Dating a Berk support group? My name is Pansy and I’ve been afflicted for three months.”

“Hi, Pansy,” Dean sniggered. “Heard you were living with muggles.”

“Well, in the muggle world I don’t have a history of trying to sell Potter out to the dark lord so….” she shrugged.

Ron found none of this funny. Pansy Parkinson’s presence was, apparently, another consequence of Harry dating Malfoy. He turned and glared at the two at fault for this nefarious invasion of Slytherins. They were at the end of the table whispering to each other, probably playing footsie under the table and everything. Ron leaned down to check.

“Footsie?” Pansy asked, sighing.

Ron nodded. “Has it only been three months? It feels like longer. I’m exhausted.”

“Maybe it won’t last,” Seamus pointed out wisely.

Ron and Pansy gave him identical looks of disdain. “After nine years of pining and foreplay?” Pansy said.

“And even during the year when Harry was dating my sister and the long eight months we spent living in a tent? Not likely, mate.”

“Weren’t you in a dorm with him?” Pansy asked incredulously.

“Seamus always slept like the dead. He never heard…things,” Ron explained.

“Blaise used to record Draco moaning Potter’s name in his sleep with a quick notes quill. Excellent blackmail material, I must say.”

“That is both disgusting and impressive. High five.”

Pansy did not leave Ron hanging.

“I love you so much right now.”

“I’m sad, though.” Harry covered his face, turning his head when Draco grabbed at his fingers to pry them away. “I had a shit time of it.”

“Me too.”

“I hate Voldemort.”

“Me too.”

“I love you, you know? I think I’ve always loved you.”

Draco blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. I think we’re soulmates maybe.”

“Soulmates?”

“Yeah.”

“….I’m going to the loo.”

This was the very important conversation Ron did not overhear, because he was too busy arguing with Seamus about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup, in which England had its first chance at winning since '66. Seamus, who supported Ireland, was convinced that his team would beat out England and secure their rightful place in the final, despite the fact they’d already been knocked out of the running by Portugal last week. Things were getting heated.

“I have to pee, but when I get back….” He flung up two fingers with a glare. “We’re finishing this, Seamus Finnigan.”

“Bring it, Ginger Shit.”

He stumbled toward the back and swung open the doors to the loo. It took him around ten seconds to realize that there were noises coming from one of the stalls. Sex noises.

“I’ll be out of your way in a minute!” Ron told the anonymous lovers, and waddled toward the urinal.

But before he could unzip and proceed, a blond head popped up from the top of the stall door. “Beat it, Weasel,” said Malfoy.

Ron gaped.

“Ron, please,” came Harry’s voice, sounding pretty pitiful but occupied at the same time. He quickly scrubbed that observation from his brain.

“You!” He pointed an accusing finger at Malfoy. “Don’t have sex in public places!”

“I’ll do it where I want,” Malfoy said primly.

“Please, Ron.”

“I should call the Aurors!”

Draco threw his hands up. “You are an Auror. The man sucking me off is an Auror. Do we need any more law enforcement here? I don’t think so!”

“There’s always a need,” Ron hissed. “Don’t get me started on the downsizing.”

“Yes, well, I would like Potter to continue downsizing my dick, so there’s the door, goodbye, thank you, fuck off.”

It was at this point that Ron realized that he was traumatized for life. That he’d just caught his best mate sucking off someone in the loo. That life would never be the same. That he was a changed man.

He said this all out loud, of course.

Harry groaned from inside the stall, and it wasn’t the good kind of groaning either.

“No one respects me.”

Hermione turned her keen eyes on her boyfriend, looking so much like Professor McGonagal that Dean made a face and ducked behind Seamus.

“We’re at the Leaky Cauldron, aren’t we?” she said. “You were allowed to choose the venue. You also chose the flavor of the cake.”

Ron pouted. “Strawberry is fantastic.”

“Harry hates strawberry.”

Hermione wasn’t having any of his complaining even though she’d not consulted him on the party at all. It seemed like no one wanted Ron to plan his best mate’s birthday, and that honestly hurt.

“The theme was going to be Near Death Experiences. I was going to make bald party hats and hand out edible noses.”

“And I wanted the cake to be shaped like a giant cock,” Seamus added. “Malfoy could be equipped, you know. Near death experience is right.”

“SURPRISE!”

Harry had tumbled out of the floo and confetti had been quickly thrown in his face. Malfoy strutted out of the fireplace behind him with a sneer.

“Happy birthday!” shouted everyone.

Ron bravely managed to put aside his disappointment and enjoy the party. It was rather tame for the most part, though the drink flowed liberally and Hannah was looking a little done in after the third hour. Ron had also forgotten why exactly he was not respected enough or whatever.

“I love you so much,” he told Hermione, who was not drunk but absolutely giggling. “I never didn’t like you. The moment I saw you I said to myself, 'Ron Weasley, you will never measure up to her,’ and that sounds bad, I guess, but in my kid-brain I knew. I knew that what I really meant was, 'Ron Weasley, that girl right there is the best girl you’ll ever find. You can stop looking now, mate.’”

Hermione was bright red, and Harry was crying.

Malfoy looked unimpressed. “When I first saw Harry I thought he didn’t bathe,” he announced.

Harry scowled.

“But then I realized he was just poor and felt bad for him.”

Dean whistled.

“But then I realized none of that mattered because he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and if I could have him then I wouldn’t mind being seen with an unwashed peasant in public, because I would be the happiest person alive.”

Harry sniffled.

“In fact.” Draco suddenly stood up. “I’d like to say, for the record, that I am not drunk.”

“Why?” Seamus asked, appalled.

Draco straightened his robes, and then slowly and dramatically – got down on one knee.

“Harry Potter, with no alcohol running through my delicate veins – ”

“What?” Ron hissed.

“ – and with nothing keeping us apart, most especially dark lords and Weasleys – ”

“What?”

“ – on the anniversary of your birth, this momentous day, I ask for your hand in marriage.” He then gazed up at Harry affectionately. “Marry me,” he said.

“NO,” shouted Ron.

“Yes,” cried Harry.

“Mazel tov,” said Pansy. “It’s about time.”

CODA

“Ever since we defeated the dark lord, Harry and I have spent most of our time drunk,” said Ron, the Best Man, holding up his glass of champagne for emphasis. “In retrospect, it would have been nice to have been drunk before then, but I imagine we would have had a harder time winning the war that way. Or easier. You never know.”

Hermione dropped her face into her hands.

“The first time Harry came to me with the news that he and Malfoy were dating, I was not drunk enough. The second time was better. I had passed out by then. After that I sort of accepted that no matter how much I drank and how many times I tried to ignore it, Harry loving Malfoy was not a hallucination or a dark spell I contracted via doorknob. No, the truth was, Harry loved Malfoy. That was it. He loved him.”

Harry sent Draco a shy smile.

“After a brief period of mourning, I decided to vet Malfoy thoroughly. I have with me now a stack of parchment documenting the many wet dreams Malfoy has had during his seven years as Blaise Zabini’s roommate, his questionable choice in music, his criminal record, and the fact that he doesn’t like cheese as proof that there are many things very wrong with Draco Malfoy.”

Hermione looked furious, but Ron only nodded to her respectfully.

“But Harry loves him. He loves him and he’s not even drunk. So to hell with it.” He raised his glass. “To Harry and Malfoy. May you continue to love each other until the end of time. Be happy. Stay sober. Someone get me another drink.”

#drarry #HP FIC #harry x draco #so this happened #I'll be back to the Bagginshield soon #promise #but SOMEBODY got me all into drarry again #cough

[ettadunham]

Day 9 - One Night in October

It’s the 9th anniversary of the Fringe pilot!!!! But that episode was already on this list, so let’s move onto today’s entry, 4x02 - One Night in October.

There’s a very specific way in which Fringe makes you feel for serial killers.

I was mentioning this with Inner Child already, how the serial killer there wasn’t necessarily the norm on this show - the themes of Fringe center around family, love, human connection, and sometimes even forgiveness. The perpetrators are more likely to have sympathetic motives, even if it’s twisted and wrong and undeniably needs to be FUCKING STOPPED.

This episode however puts a bit of spin on that sympathy, because it’s not the serial killer we’re focusing on, but his alternate universe self who instead of becoming a killer spent his life trying to understand, and in his own word, ‘help people like him’. So it’s through him, through his conviction that he can help this alternate self of his, that we’re humanizing the killer.

And I know what kids these days would say on this site: ‘cool story, still murder’. And honestly, that’s a good mindset to counter being asked to sympathize with certain “”type”” of (= white male) murderers while often ignoring their victims’ narratives... But it’s not really the takeaway from this story, I think.

Because, again, at the end of the day, we’re asked to sympathize with the guy who despite coming from an abusive home, despite possibly having some mental health issues giving him those “urges” that were made worse by his father trying to “beat it out” of him... manages to turn his life around in the end. Because he ran away from that environment, and found someone who loved him after all. Not even a romantic interest, but a mother figure, who taught him how to control and counter these negative impulses and thoughts.

We’re also shown him failing to convince his serial killer counterpart to stop doing what he was doing. Because love can’t actually save everyone - or at least not without a cost of our own, one that we don’t owe to anyone.

So, in the end, what I took away from this story is that children need LOVE, and that having bad thoughts doesn’t make you a bad person. And I think that’s a pretty fucking good message.

Despite having an intriguing and memorable week of the case, this episode doesn’t lack stories for our own characters either - quite the opposite, really. The whole case is a joint operation between the two universes’ Fringe divisions, and remember, it hasn’t been that long that the bridge has been up, and our teams stopped being at war with each other. What’s interesting to me though, is that it’s Altlivia who brings up the idea in the first place.

You see, I always pegged Altlivia as more of the soldier type compared to Olivia. Sure, she seems more laid back and all that, but that also means that she’s more of a follower instead of a leader, and that she’s comfortable in that position. She does question authority and her orders, but mostly when there’s a good reason for it, and doesn’t just go around doing her own thing all the time like our Olivia. And that’s why I found it unusual to see her take the initiative here, pushing through an idea that their Broyles was opposed to as well.

And God bless her for doing so, because it gave us an entire episode of O2 goodness.

There are also some heavy moments after Olivia mentions his own abusive stepfather when they’re talking with John, and Altlivia overhears it. And Olivia not only confirms to her what we’ve already known, but says that SHE KILLED THE BASTARD DEAD IN THIS TIMELINE. And she does it in her usual dinner chat tone, the way only Olivia Dunham can talk about murder, bless.

And that made me think about which version of Olivia was better off in that regard. The one who didn’t kill her own stepfather as a child, the one that merely shot at him, and got terrorized by him with him sending letters on her birthday EACH FUCKING YEAR... Or the one who did kill him. Which must have been traumatizing as a child, but now he’s gone, and she was raised by Nina in return. Given the episode’s theme, it also feels like the show is trying to tell us that the difference that made Prime Universe Olivia hesitate perhaps was her encounter with Peter, who repeated his mother’s words to her “You gotta imagine how you want things to be, and then you can try to change them.” And isn’t that a message of hope, something to hold onto? But what does that hope truly worth when it comes with a price of living in fear for so many years?

Frankly, it feels like neither of those options are necessarily better than the other, that Olivia probably didn’t feel a peace of mind as a result either way. And perhaps that’s why the differences between amber and blue universe Olivia are so incredibly subtle.

Meanwhile Walter is struggling with his own issues, hearing Peter everywhere. Except of course, he doesn’t know it’s Peter. John Noble, as usual, nails these scenes, but that goes without saying.

This is definitely an episode that stayed with me, and as can be seen from all these rants, made me feel and think about a lot of shit. And that’s peak television for me.

Bullet points!!!!

Confession time: I definitely cross-shipped the Olivias and Lincolns at the beginning of S4. Not necessarily based on these small interactions, but because the idea seemed rather appealing. Of course, this show somehow found a way to kind of give me what I wanted in a way that I most certainly DID NOT want it to happen. Dammit show.

Scarlie is mentioned! Apparently he thought that Altlivia’s idea was crazy, but he was also “too busy sipping Mai Tais with Mrs. Bug Lady”. Which is a fancy way of saying that Kirk Acevedo had another show, so he didn’t have the time anymore to come over to Fringe for these Red!Verse episodes, but I appreciated that they tried to explain his absence nonetheless.

#fringe talk