Two times Adalind loses her powers. First time Nick takes them away. Second time she gives them up. But both times I am amazed by Nick’s reaction. I see compassion from him the first time and he looks so sad for her as she walks away defeated. And at this time, she is his enemy. Yet, he feels for her.
The second time I see compassion again along with admiration. She came to her enemy, offered to help him and made herself vulnerable to them and gave up her only defense, her powers. I love that look he gives her. As if he is in awe of her and trying to figure her out. Just when he thinks he knows who she is, she does this. Something so selfless.
Lance fled the room, angrily wiping his face as he ran, searching for the comfort of his lion. He ignored the calls of his teammates, ignored the feelings of fear, regret and pity that radiated off of them.
He ignored everything but the purrs of his lion.
Lance understood why Blue had let them in, she hadn’t wanted him to keep his powers a secret in the first place. Blue was just worried (understandably, he was learning how to make emotions into solid objects) and he could never angry at her for long. Once he reached his hangar, he locked it for good measure and changed the password for good measure, before finally taking a deep breath of air and staring at his lion.
“Well that was certainly a shit show, right Blue?” Lance laughed breathlessly, a slight tremor in his voice. He began walking over to her, placing a hand on her paw once he reached her. “It didn’t exactly go how I thought it would.” Blue hummed her agreement in his mind, comforting his anxious thoughts. A slight smile graced his face before changing into a grimace.
“But…to be honest Blue, I never thought they’d be angry at me. I knew they’d be upset but that pissed,” Lance let out a sigh,”It was a little much.” Sensing her paladins discomfort, Blue opened her mouth and let Lance inside. He made his way through his lion slowly, gliding a hand across the wall as he walked. “It hurt, Blue. It hurt a lot. They looked so, so afraid of me.” He paused for a moment, his fingers slowly curling into a fist. He could still feel the emotions rolling off his teammates like waves, each beckoning him to take a dive into the abyss that was feelings. “A-Am I scary Blue? …Am I monster?”
No, my paladin, you are no monster.
“Then what am I Blue? I’m not a hero, I’m not a Paladin of Voltron, and I’m not even sure I’m completely human at this point!” Lance cried out, sliding down against the wall. “T-These powers Blue, what do they mean?” He began to curl into himself, tears on the brink of falling out. He shoved the palms of his hands against his eyes, trying to stop the tears from overflowing. The negative emotions he usually kept on lockdown were drowning him, they were clawing up his throat and bubbling out as harsh sobs. “What am I?”
You are my paladin, the Blue lion spoke, her words wrapping around Lance’s mind like a blanket, protecting him from the negative emotions in him. You are precious, you are unique and you are wonderful. Blue tried to focus all the love she had for her paladin into her words, sending him as much warmth as she could.
Lance refused to believe her and Blue fought to keep that blanket around him, tightening its bounds around his mind. You are my paladin.
“You deserve better than me Blue.” The coils grew tighter, dark matter beginning to form around Lance. You are my paladin.
She could hear the shouts of her paladin’s teammates from within her hangar, each shouting for Lance. But her paladin needed rest, he needed these negative emotions gone from his mind so he could be happy. She would heal him. She would protect him. She would be there for her paladin like he was there for her. Sending a quick sorry to Black, Blue protected her paladin the best way she could. You are my cub.
All Lance could see was black.
“Are you an idiot?! Who says that to the obviously emotionally unstable guy?” Pidge shouted, “Who gave you the right to speak to him that way? Tell me Keith, who?”
“That’s enough Pidge,” Shiro chided.
“Um excuse me? Keith just made a magical Lance who could do some crazy things have a mental breakdown and run off!” She yelled.
“And I’m sorry about that! But what Lance did was wrong and he needed to know that!” Keith argued through clenched teeth.
“And what you did was wrong as well! We could have that discussion when he wasn’t a fidgety, anxious mess! But nooo, Keith has to open his big fat mouth and ruin-”
“I said that’s enough Pidge,” Shiro interrupted, “Pidge is correct Keith, you shouldn’t have said that. But Lance also shouldn’t have done what he did, however that did not need to be discussed yet.” Keith looked away angrily, a frown set on his face.
Shiro sighed, deciding to let him be for now,”Hunk, do you and Pidge want to go check on Lance? I need to talk to Allura about what just happened.” All he got was a nod in response before the two walked out of the room in silence, Pidge sending a glare on their way out.
Once the room was empty Shiro sent one last glance at Keith,”You’re going to have to apologize for what happened.”
“Because it wasn’t right.”
“And you need to learn-”
“I know Shiro, god,” Keith growled.
“Fine, be that way, but I expect an apology for Lance when I return. You disappointed me today Keith, you’re better than this.” He left it at that before exiting the room, hearing Keith sigh on his way out.
His entire head was going to be white by the end of today.
ahh sorry it’s a bit short guys! if i wrote anymore it would end up being 3k words :) , hope you liked it though!
occasionally (lets be real more than occasionally) there’ll be a part of an episode that just blows me away, where im just really in awe of griffin’s storytelling and acting capabilities. there were many lines in this episode that really struck me but you know what my favorite one was? it was john’s line, and it was so… cold, and calculating, and menacing, and it literally gave me chills.
One thing I’ve always wanted to clear up is the ‘Keith is cold-hearted’ thing. I can see how the scene of him being ready to leave Allura behind might come across as such, to quote Hunk: “Keith, that’s cold-hearted even for you.”
But that is not how things actually are. Let me explain why he acted the way he did back then, because Keith has had just as many emotions about it as everyone else.
Keith is rational, observant and tends to state stuff exactly as it is, with all facts lied out to make sure that everyone gets the whole picture. (see: how he explained his board in s1e1, how he argues with Lance at the beginning of s1e3 etc.) He has been known to accept critique pretty well - he actively tries to work on his temper (“patience yields focus”) and accepted that Lance’s plan was better than his in s1e7. In turn, however, he expects people to treat him the same way. If there isn’t any evidence to contradict it, he takes things people tell him at face value and accepts them as facts. It is one of the reasons him and Lance clash often, Keith can be found constantly correcting Lance’s statements and Lance doesn’t appreciate that.
This is coupled with his rational personality. I have no doubt that part of that comes from having been forced to grow up without a family and people to comfort him when he was feeling lost, he has had to deal with reality screwing him over quite a lot of times already. He is extremely cautious and protective of his friends when a possible threat appears (see: how he placed himself in front of the team when Klaizap appeared in s1e2), probably exactly because he knows that when they are gone, they are gone. That happened to his dad, that happened to Shiro.
And now he thinks the same thing has happened to Allura.
It is not that he doesn’t want to help her - because he does. He really does, he even said so himself. (And he wasn’t lying. We all know that Keith is an absolutely horrible liar.) In his mind, there were four facts battling with one another: 1) I want to save my friend; 2) “the ship that is headed to Zarkon’s central command?” “the place that’s way too dangerous for us to attack?” (a direct quote from an exchange between Hunk and Keith from s1e10. Keith had accepted that information a fact); 3) we are fighting against an enemy we know next to nothing about; and 4) I am responsible for the entire universe and I can only protect it with Voltron, for which Allura technically isn’t essential.
So he stands there and goes through all the facts. And he comes to the - absolutely logical - conclusion that it is too dangerous to go to Zarkon’s headquarters. He could lose even more friends. He could lose the universe’s only hope. So he does what he always does: suppress his emotions for the greater good. He did that there, he did it when he decided to give up the blade in s2e8.
But then the others turn against him. We can’t see his face when they begin to vehemently protest against his statement-
-but I have no doubt that it would be serious and reflective. The backlash would have made him reconsider the conclusion he had come to. Because that’s what he does when he faces critique: take a step back and reevaluate. Obviously, fact 2) wasn’t quite right. [Also note how open his body language is, he is more than willing to discuss this.]
And once the execution of their plan starts, which means an actual chance for getting his friend back, he is right at the front of the group again.
Keith isn’t cold-hearted. Not at all. Does this look like the face of a cold-hearted person to you?
Because that is the face he made when he came to the conclusion that it would be too dangerous to save Allura. He is not happy about it. He genuinely believed that she was already lost and they were about to condemn the universe for a suicide rescue mission. If there is anything he can do to save his friends, he will do it. Like, seriously - he had never seen Zarkon before that episode. For all he knew, Zarkon could be 5ft tall, wield magic and be immortal. But as soon as he saw a normal-sized Galra in armor, Zarkon suddenly became less of an abstract concept and more of something that he has an actual fighting chance against. Look at how his attitude towards him changed in season 2, at the end of it he volunteered to infiltrate Zarkon’s base on his own!
(Also. He was the one that asked Allura if she was sure that she wanted to come with them: “I’m sorry, princess, did you say ‘we’?!” in s1e10. He was worried for her. There is no way he didn’t want her back.)
Keith constantly watches out for the greater good. It’s what he told Pidge when she wanted to leave to go look for her family - “everyone in the universe has families!” - and what he did when he gave up finding out about his past in the Trials of Marmora. He pushes his own emotions down because he genuinely believes one person’s life and/or comfort isn’t worth putting the entire universe at risk. And that does not equal being cold-hearted.
tl;dr: Keith has had perfectly valid reasons why he hesitated to go on the rescue mission. He wanted her back just as much as everyone else. He is not a cold-hearted asshole.
The traditional Altean masquerade ball! Neither was particularly interested in it, but Lance bet Pidge couldn’t get the juniberri princess to dance with her, there was no way she could refuse it, right? And maybe it turns out the princess is not so bad…
My piece for the @mlcalendarproject I had the month of December easily one of my favorite months (even if it’s eternally summer where I live). Shout out to @thelastpilot for being so kind and helpful and even editing my piece because I’m a goof who drew it portrait style. Everyone who contributed did such an amazing job you should definitely check it out. It’s free to download here !
A/N: If you aren’t in the tags yet, and you told me you wanted to be in the tags, I apologize. This part was queued up minutes after I made part 1 and I’m at work ahhh. You’ll be included in part 3 for sure. Hope you enjoy!
Two weeks later, you ran into him
again. This time, you were sitting down for your political science final exam
and he had taken the seat right next to you. He recognized you first.
“Hey!” he greeted, wide smile on
his face as you turned to look at him, perplexed. “Girl that I thought was Dot
and snuck into her bed! How are you?”
You tilted your head, your brain
still going over political theory and not processing what he had just said.
This one gets a LITTLE sinn-ish… nothing serious or explicit but I figure I will still put some of it under a cut ^_~
“Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t,” Chat said crossing his arms and leveling her with his most determined stare.
“Oh, I don’t know, how about because I don’t even know your actual name?”
“So we tell each other, it’s been long enough.”
“Are you fucking insane?” Ladybug hissed. “We can’t just-”
“Can’t just what?” Chat interrupted, “can’t just be honest with each other? It’s been three years Ladybug, and I for one am tired of putting my life on hold for some maniac and his color changing butterflies.”
“But the risks,” she tried weakly, even as her blood began to race when her partner stalked towards her.
“The risks will always be there. Why can’t we face them together?” he said softly, his hands reaching out to gently stroke up and down her arms.
“We already do,” Ladybug said stubbornly, “we have a great partnership just the way we are, why should be change that now?”
She knew why, of course she knew. It was her own fault after all. She had been the one to start this whole mess in the first place.
He leaned forward, ducking his head so that their eyes were level. She could see the conflicted feelings dancing in his eyes- frustration, hope, amusement, and pure unadulterated want.
She swallowed heavily.
“I am a pretty patient cat,” he said with a slight smirk, “but there are only so many times we can make out in back alleys and on darkened rooftops before we have to admit that this isn’t some mistake.”
This is the last installment save for the Epilogue. I hope you all have enjoyed the ride. - Mod Lenny
Ian insisted Jamie ride out with him to look over the fields and give his opinions.
“Ian, I ken ye know what ye’re about wi’ runnin’ the estate,” Jamie finally interrupted as they sat on their horses looking out over a field of flourishing barley. “And it doesna matter that ye brought me out here away from the house and Jenny––I’m no tellin’ ye about what happened. I said I didna want to talk about it and I’m no goin’ to. It doesna matter anymore anyway. Murtagh will be back today or the next and then I’ll be off again.”
“And will ye be sending us as little word of where ye are or what ye’re about as ye did before?” Ian asked with a scolding edge that would have left Jamie feeling ashamed if he weren’t still so numb. “Whatever it is that’s happened to ye this last… it doesna excuse yer silence the last four years.”
“I told ye what Dougal told me about Jenny,” Jamie objected.
“That explains it; it doesna excuse it,” Ian clarified. “Jenny and I will take care of Lallybroch as if it were our own and ye ken that well; it’s been her home longer than it’s been yers. But I think we both deserve a bit of honesty from ye, aye? A bit more respect than what ye’ve shown.”
“Ye’re startin’ to sound like Jenny,” Jamie remarked, the corner of his mouth ticking up a fraction.
“No, Jenny would have called ye a stubborn and ungrateful arse.”
“She already did. Ye were off dealin’ wi’ Ross the smith, gettin’ him to reshoe my horse.” Jamie reached down to pat Dóchas’ neck and the horse stamped her foot and raised her head, shaking it like a nod.
Ian sat straighter in his saddle, squinting in the direction of the house. “Ye said Murtagh ought to be back today?” Ian asked, settling down again.
“Aye.” Jamie peered in the direction Ian had been looking, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sun.
“Was he off to fetch someone for ye?”
There were two riders slowing on the road as they approached Lallybroch’s main yard in the distance.
“Claire?” Jamie breathed, his heart breaking into an excited gallop as he turned Dóchas back the way they’d come and spurred her forward.
As soon as they entered the yard, Claire began calling for Jamie.
Murtagh dismounted and walked over to help Claire down from her horse while her eyes scanned the windows of the large stone building––Lallybroch.
“Jamie!” Claire called heading for the door.
A young boy darted out from it in front of her soon followed by a woman about Claire’s own age, shorter and her hair darker and sleeker.
“Get back inside ye wee––” Jenny scolded her son before spotting Claire and stopping abruptly in her pursuit. “Oh… And… who might you be?” Suspicion lay heavy in her voice and she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m looking for Jamie,” Claire said quickly, her attention flitting from Jenny to the child to Murtagh where he had already unpacked her medicine box and had the horses by the reins, leading them toward the stables. “My name is Claire… Claire Fraser.”
“Fraser?” Jenny’s suspicion visibly turned to bewilderment and her focus shifted from Claire to Murtagh.
“Are you Jenny? You are. You’re his sister, aren’t you?” Claire said desperately and with relief as she stepped forward. “Where is he? Where’s Jamie?”
“And you, Murtagh,” Jenny said loudly, ignoring Claire and getting Murtagh to stop and face her. “Where do ye think ye’re sneakin’ off to? Is this lass… is she sayin’ she’s Jamie’s wife?”
From the other side of the yard came the sounds of two horses approaching and Jamie’s loud cries of, “Claire!”
“Jamie?!” Claire screamed trying not to trip over her skirts as she ran towards the noise.
“Claire!” Jamie cried as he was off Dóchas before the horse had come to a safe stop.
As Claire threw herself into Jamie’s arms, the rest of the world fell away. Tears of joy and relief streamed down her cheeks and soaked into his coat where she buried her face. She could feel him murmuring her name in disbelief into her hair as they took a few moments to just soak each other in.
“Why, Claire?” Jamie finally asked pulling back from her to look at her face. She could see the wetness in his eyes, the confusion and the relief. “Why did ye no go?”
“I couldn’t,” she said simply, raising a hand to cup his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into her touch.
“I’m sorry, lass,” he whispered.
“What? No, I didn’t mean… I meant I couldn’t leave you––I didn’t want to. I was there with Frank at the stones but when the moment came… I couldn’t make myself do it. I chose to stay here… I choose you,” she murmured, her hand slipping back into his hair, taking a firm hold.
“Me? Ye mean…”
She swallowed hard against the butterflies crawling their way up from her stomach. “I love you,” she whispered.
There was a flicker in Jamie’s glistening eyes that might have been surprise before he bent his forehead to hers. “And I… love you,” he whispered back, then rubbed the tip of his nose down the length of hers before kissing her in a way that made every hair on her body stand on end as it shivered through her down to her toes.
They gradually became aware of Murtagh clearing his throat loudly. He gave Jamie a nod towards Jenny and Ian before turning to continue bringing the horses to the stables, his beard barely concealing his satisfied smile.
“Would ye care to introduce us?” Jenny suggested with unveiled impatience. Ian made a noise of embarrassment or rebuke beside her.
“Right,” Jamie started out of his reverie. He gently slipped his hand into Claire’s, twining their fingers together tightly as he led her over to his family. “Jenny… Ian… This is Claire… my wife. I told ye about Jenny, Sassenach; Ian is her husband. We were lads together––and fought in France just after my Da passed.”
Claire reached a hand towards Ian who glanced briefly at Jamie before shaking it and nodding a welcome to Claire.
“And you’re expecting,” Claire nodded down to Jenny’s belly where the subtle swell could still easily be overlooked. It quickly became apparent that Jamie hadn’t noticed. “When are you due?”
“No till after the harvest comes in,” Jenny admitted, flushing under Jamie’s stunned gaze. “Come inside wi’ ye then. Ye’ve been on the road some time, I can see. Will do ye good to be able to wash and get something warm in yer belly. When ye’ve had a chance to settle, perhaps you can tell us a bit about where ye come from and just how ye come to be married to Jamie here.”
Jamie showed Claire up to his rooms and stayed with her while she tidied herself and they devised a story that would hopefully satisfy Jenny and Ian. Over an early supper and with Murtagh contributing through nods and grunts of confirmation, Jamie and Claire fumbled their way through as much of the truth as they dared share. The circumstances of Claire’s arrival at Leoch and surrounding their wedding remained intact.
“We stumbled on some Red Coats––likely those searching for the deserters I’d… disposed of,” Jamie explained, looking to Claire for support. “It was chance as much as anything that Captain Randall wasna among them when we met them but we figured it was likely just a matter of time before word reached him of meeting us and the bodies of the deserters were discovered.”
“We were afraid that the Captain would see it as an opportunity to be seized––pin more crimes on Jamie and take me in as well as some sort of accomplice,” Claire said, her nerves making her talk faster than usual.
“I told her she go to her late husband’s family, that they’d likely be better able to protect her than I could if the price on my head grew… So I left her behind wi’ Murtagh to see her off. I thought it would be safer should I go and perhaps draw the Red Coats after me.”
“But when it came down to it… I don’t know them to trust them and… Jamie’s my husband now. Where he goes, I go,” Claire explained, her focus rooted in Jamie’s eyes.
They were too absorbed in each other to notice the looks Jenny and Ian exchanged across the table. From the set of Jenny’s mouth, it was obvious that she didn’t believe a fraction of the tale they told. But glancing back from the Laird and his Lady to her own husband, Jenny’s expression softened to match Ian’s.
Jamie was an entirely different man from the one he’d been that morning. The cloud that had hung about him since he’d reappeared was gone; there was a light in his eyes and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him smile so much––possibly not since their brother had been alive. There was a similar light in this woman’s––Claire’s––face when she looked at Jamie. Whatever they were hiding, Jenny decided it didn’t matter; what mattered to her was that her brother was home and happy, even if he would be leaving again soon.
Jamie and Claire retired to their room shortly after supper, pleading Claire’s need to rest and recover from her journey––returning from Craigh na Dun had taken half as long in Claire’s eagerness to be with Jamie again.
The door had only just closed behind them before they were in each other’s arms again, tugging at clothes and moving naturally toward the bed. The mattress was suddenly there pressing against the backs of Claire’s legs. She sat and hitched one leg up on the frame so that her skirts started falling away as she reached for Jamie’s belt. His arousal was already prominent beneath the soft, worn wool of his kilt. He took hold of her wrists and stalled her.
“No, Claire.” His voice was low and rough. “No like this. I’ll have ye naked.” Letting her wrists go, he set to work loosening the knot at the top of her bodice. She leaned back on the bed and succumbed to the feel of his hands working over her as he slowly stripped away each layer she wore.
As her last petticoat fell, she moved to stand reaching for the clasp of his belt once more. “Now you,” she told him. From the belt she moved to the buttons of his waistcoat, smoothing the fabric down his torso with her hands first.
At last, Jamie raised Claire’s shift up and over her head then reached up and pulled the pins and ties from her hair until he could bury his fingers in it. She caught his wrist as he traced the curl of one thick tendril from root to tip. Turning his wrist around, her thumb found the freshly healed scar from where Dougal’s blade had sliced the skin. The line it made was clean compared to the rough scabs of the scratches and scrapes from his accident in the woods.
“Blood of my blood,” Claire said quietly, tracing the fine line.
Jamie brought that same hand to her chin, his thumb running along the line of her jaw as her fingers continued to massage the flesh of his wrist and hand.
“Bone of my bone,” he whispered in response before bending to kiss her.
His hands were eager as they ran down the soft curves of her body before tightening around her waist and lifting her off the ground. She clung tight to his back as he bore her down on the bed, settling between her legs but keeping his weight on his forearms on either side of her.
She trailed her fingers up and down his spine, delighting as he shivered. The heat from his body––balanced so carefully above hers but barely skimming her surface––enveloped her and penetrated her, warming her bones as she was aware of the solid heaviness of him between her legs.
“I give you my body,” she whispered, spreading her legs wider and arching towards him, gasping as he pressed back against her and filled her. “That we two may be one,” she finished, her voice fainter than before.
Jamie caressed her cheek while staying still as long as he could within her. “I give ye my spirit,” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers while tracing the shape of her ear and then from her earlobe down along her neck, “till our life shall be done.”
He started to move as he bent his head to kiss her again, capturing her sigh before it could leave her lips.
“Ye’re mine,” he told her, punctuating the statement with a deep rock into her. “Mine alone… mine forever.”
“Yes,” Claire panted in agreement, her fingers digging into the firm, tight flesh of his lower back, her legs twining with his.
“My wife… my Sassenach,” Jamie grunted, his pace increasing as he drove himself harder and Claire’s hands drifted lower to the flexing muscles of his buttocks, her fingernails digging hard enough to leave marks.
“Yes,” she panted again.
“Mo nighean donn… mo chridhe… mo graidh,” he continued in Gaelic.
“Yes… And what about… you?” she sighed. “Who… do you… belong to?”
“You, Sassenach,” Jamie said, pressing his forehead to hers as he bit his lip and changed his rhythm yet again, slowing himself to stave off his release until he could bring her with him. “I’m yers… for always.”
Claire cried out as her thighs suddenly clenched around his hips, trapping him deep within her as her self shattered and scattered, leaving her trembling next to the exposed rawness of Jamie’s shattered self. She saw only him looking deep into the very soul of her as the throbbing pulse of their bodies synchronized from the blood in their veins to the breath in their lungs.
The sweat began to cool on her breasts and stomach sending a shuddering chill through her flesh.
This was why she couldn’t go, what she needed so desperately it was worth sacrificing everything and everyone she’d known in her time. It couldn’t be explained, it could only be experienced, and she’d only ever experienced it with Jamie. The recognition in his eyes, the understanding…
Claire raised her head without taking her eyes off of him until her lips met his, tender and warm, a little wet as his tongue darted out to taste her.
Here is the Final part of the Promo Of Hell, I edited this so we can see with detailed clarity, all the bits and pieces that are so nutritious and unhealthy to feed our angst.
Food for thought: Notice how the Satanic mixture of misleading and ramblings of images begins and end with Sam Winchester?
I will continue cooking my next post, and as I stir my wooden spoon on my soup of speculation. I would like the opinion of this discovery about Sam in this images, from the masters in meta @tinkdw and @amwritingmeta if you allow me to ask your opinion and reading. Please and thank you. And my apologies if you already wrote about it.
2:49- The first shifty thing that happens in Mark’s video. Mark says “What happens if I quit the game?” Reality bends, and we hear that creaking that we heard when we first saw Dark again back in February.
4:43- Mark wrote down what the game was saying and is saying it along with it. Again, we hear the creaking and we see as the facecam zooms in, loses its color, flips, and multiplies. Mark’s voice layers and distorts, eventually becoming so distorted we can’t understand it. There is no center voice that sounds like Mark at all. It’s all Dark.
6:04- Mark says “Bye, bye” as he always does, and he waves at the camera. But as he’s smiling, that 3D effect shows up again. The black and white background with blue and red. Even though it’s Mark, Dark is still there distorting reality, because that’s what he does.
But this shit right here is what got me:
Every time Mark says this, he looks straight at the camera, as if talking to us. But it’s not Mark, is it? That’s not how Mark speaks. He isn’t monotone like that. Distorted reality, layered voice, and that piercing ringing sound are all Dark. So do we understand Dark?
Let’s be honest, Dark knows we don’t understand. He knows that we have no clue what’s going on and that we’re scrambling to make sense of it. And maybe he wants us to understand. Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe our confusion makes us easier to control. The more confused we are, the more we theorize, and the more attention he gets.
So, my dear Dark, what are you up to?
(and let’s not forget that Mark was a little shit when he tweeted this)