There is a truth to be found in what Jack Baker says about his son: the family are not truly killers, even his boy Lucas.
There’s an interesting type of truth to be found in the statement in regards to Lucas. That he is truly not a killer, at least not at heart. Lucas has murdered, tortured, and has proven not likely to stop such things. Even after his mind has become clear, given an immunity to Eveline’s control from a serum provided by her very creators; he continues his actions with a heightened sense of awareness ( a loose fitting word to how Lucas perceives the world after being pulled from Eveline’s influence). He takes pleasure from his actions, just as he takes disappoint in the failures of the abducted. He’s seeking for something beyond the bettering of his own inventions.
Lucas continued his abductions of individuals, continued acting as if he were under Eveline’s control to make her believe that he was still under her control; Lucas is an exceptionally smart individual, it would not have taken one in order to fool a child, genetically modified or not. Some of his actions are pretending. ( Which brings an interesting point– Lucas had never wanted to kidnap the Baker victims because it was wrong, but rather because he prefers not to physically be harming. The harm that Lucas does is usually through a third party, or object, and even physiological damage but he does not physically assault. Even when faced with potential confrontation of Ethan Winters he runs. He has never murder with his own hands, rather his inventions. It’s an interesting disconnect between the player and the game master.)
While her control over Lucas was short, it did not leave without any lasting effects. Lucas was already mentally ill before the arrival of the tanker. Even before being officially diagnosed he murdered a child by starvation ( once again never really touching, rather a death by neglect ). In some fashion, as a child, Lucas did not understand his actions; while he had understood that he had murdered ( going so far as covering up the murder vis-a-vis the ‘bayou’ in order to remain a guiltless party ), there was the question of why Oliver had died, a very brief question, but still a question. Shortly after diagnosed, he began taking medicine, but Lucas stopped. Factor in the childhood trauma from the physical discipline of his father.
Eveline’s mold touched his mind. It unraveled everything that Lucas had been attempting to keep under lock and key so he could have a 'normal’ life. ( A normal life that he does not base too heavily on his own childhood, although the basics of a father and mother in a nice house stick. He would even argue for getting a job, one that uses his talents to the fullest, although he was never quite successful for varying reasons. He’s an asshole. ) Her 'mold’ was a key to unlocking the pieces of Lucas that were held back; the violent, the erratic, the more meticulous malicious pieces of his mind. ( There is, as well, a heavy sense of PTSD that comes after being freed from Eveline. ) It would be wrong to classify this Lucas as a true Lucas, he is a very complex and confusing person, he does being a 'sociopath inventor’.
He lacks a filter. There isn’t something to keep his invasive thoughts at bay, nothing to guide morality. There are actions, like nail pulling and teeth spitting and subjecting individuals to his ideas; these are things that he most ardently enjoys, things that a little less than kind and more than disturbed. Specifically, there’s a reason to the nail pulling/chewing/ripping, as they grow back quicker and knows that he can not really die, it’s become a way of calming himself.
Yet. Lucas has his moments. The moments where he is helpful, where he isn’t an entire asshole. Purposely leaving video tapes which Ethan ( or truly, any other victim ) can find, leaving the photographs and hidden treasure caches. Lucas Baker is an observer of the Baker family, employed by the same B.O.W manufacturers that had made Eveline; Zoe is helpful, yes, but Lucas is the only one whose not under Eveline’s control. Now, whether Lucas intentionally left the tapes is another question to be asked, another secret that Lucas will not reveal. It is, all of the helpful things he has done, another way at keeping people from assumptions. Keeping people guessing, because Lucas Baker does not like being pegged as one thing. He doesn’t want anyone to have a grasp on who he is, what he wants, and truthfully most aren’t capable of forming a solid conclusion on Lucas beyond asshole.
In a way, Lucas invites sympathy. He has this childlike quality about him, and he can be very charming. At other times ( really, most of the time ) he can be quite repellent, because he can be remorseless and erratic and hes an indirect murderer, and you’re reminded about what he did.
To fully experience that rush of living in the moment, you must jump off a cliff. Don’t have the guts? Well, you obviously don’t, since you don’t have enough Se. You may also train yourself by riding a rollercoaster repeatedly until you cannot remember who you were or feel anything anymore. The only thing you will be able to experience is the appreciation of this moment. Beautiful, isn’t it?
How to develop Si
This one is quite easy. Just go take those SAT vocab practice tests for fun. Here’s a link: https://www.vocabtest.com/ If you can memorize everything, your Si is at the top of the game!
How to develop Ne
How to develop Ni
One cannot “develop” psychic abilities, one can only be born with it. Just go find a fortune teller, or a crazy INFJ.
How to develop Te
Model from the best. Remember that bully from your elementary school? Yes, you remember them, don’t you? Strong Te has that lasting effect on you. Pretend to be like them and go boss people around. Your Te will go through the roof in no time.
How to develop Ti
To have a fully developed Ti, you need the following items:
20 of the most frustrating chain puzzles you can find
5000 piece jigsaw puzzle (the whole thing must be the same plain color)
Solve them, take them apart, put them back together again 10 times, and you will be able to solve anything the world throws at you from then on.
How to develop Fe
Put on a “free hugs” T-shirt and go stand at the busiest mall in the city for 5 hours per day for 1 month. You’ll learn to absolutely, unconditionally, wholeheartedly, devotedly be in love with people (no sarcasms intended), just like Fe-doms.
How to develop Fi
You must learn to FEEL! And express that FEEL! - Go watch 100 movies that make you cry. Here are some examples:
Ellsworth Kelly’s “Red White” (1961) was in our Inaugural Exhibition, which opened October 4, 1974. Kelly often paired white with a saturated, bright color. Here the organic forms seem to interlock like jigsaw puzzle pieces, and the white forms almost fade into the wall when the painting is exhibited.
“ i finally get a chance to kill and i can’t do it.”
“ and now all my secrets are floating to the surface.”
“ how did i lose it? how do i find it again?”
“ how can i solve a crime when i can’t even solve what’s wrong with me?”
“ has a nice ring to it, no?”
“ last thing ___ needs is another serial killer.”
“ why don’t you take a picture? it’ll last longer.”
“ what would i do without you?”
“ grandma really talks like that?”
“ you get the point. right, bitch?”
“ fucking people don’t want our help.”
“ this stuff never gets to you?”
“ i’m more of a cry on the inside kinda guy.”
“ what? i’m so over that.”
“ just… prove it to me.”
“ it’s like you’re just fucking with me.”
“ couldn’t pick a worse time, right?”
“ hey, how about you take off? let me handle this.”
“ i couldn’t let you do that.”
“ i owe you.”
“ i can’t even go there.”
“ this one’s on us, man.”
“ i have to focus. tune everything out.”
“ timing could be better.”
“ … oh. it’s you.”
“ who else you got following you?”
“ go ahead. try it. i’ve been waitin’.”
“ this neighborhood? it’s full of crazies. i’d lock my doors.”
“ bathroom’s all yours.”
“ we ran outta glasses?”
“ come on, give it a chance.”
“ sweetie, what’s the matter?”
“ what kind of weird?”
“ no. no, calm was what i was 35 minutes ago. pissed is what i am now.”
“ hey! who want’s eggos? i got blueberry, or chocolate. or both.”
“ assholes! they did everything but help.”
“ which assholes were you talking to?”
“ i didn’t ask for your help, or your advice.”
“ i’ll never understand how people deal with death. why they can’t just… put it in it’s place.”
“ not exactly ideal in the element of surprise department.”
“ i have to find a new way to dispose of the body.”
“ you totally douched me in there.”
“ you clocked a guy in a bar who touched your arm…“
“ well, thank you for the fucking vote of confidence.”
“ hey. just visualize that door of opportunity opening up wide for you, bro, and just walk right through it.”
“ you keep up with this woo-woo shit, imma walk right through you.”
“ that come with a story?”
“ well, you should be more careful, amigo.”
“ they had to bring in outside talent. which would be moi.”
“ bet this guy never expected his work to see in the light of day.”
“ i bet you’re right.”
“ still, it can’t be easy to hide a body nowadays.”
“ you shittin’ me?”
“ hypothetical: how do you make sure disposed body stay disposed?”
“ don’t all those run the risk of contact with the outside world?”
“ you got a better idea?”
“ there is no such thing as the perfect crime. not in my experience, anyway.”
“ well, we have something in common.”
“ miss me?”
“ i need to clear the decks… and my head.”
“ they, uh… ate my puppy.”
“ you may have to get closer than you like.”
“ i’m doin’ enough damage on my own.”
“ that was a yes. sounded like a no, but… yeah.”
“ you scared the shit outta me.”
“ how you doin’?”
“ don’t! you fuckin’ asked… so, how am i doing? i’m just fine.”
“ come on, don’t get the shakes now. this is no time for performance anxiety.”
“ i’ve been waitin’ for you.”
“ come out, come out, wherever you are!”
“ what the hell is wrong with me?”
“ it’s okay, i got you.”
“ don’t leave me! please, don’t leave me!”
“ want me to knock out some doors? or maybe some heads?”
“ what fucking asshole left this here?”
“ it’s ‘special agent’ fucking asshole.”
“ frankly, you’re more of a leader than a team-player.”
“ i’m not convinced you play well with others.”
“ i feel like a jigsaw-puzzle missing a piece.”
“ i’ve been calling you for hours.”
“ i kinda pulled an all nighter.”
“ it’s, uh… it’s taking me to places i never thought i’d go.”
“ he was such a destructive force. why can’t you just put him behind you?”
“ i’m just gonna make you late.”
“ dammit, ___! i need you there too.”
“ you have no idea what this feels like.”
“ can’t wait to get another door slammed in my face.”
“ that’s it. put that out into the universe, alright?”
“ look on the bright side. comically, we’re batting a thousand.”
“ please, don’t shoot me, miss/mister.”
“ if i believed in god. if i believed in sin… this is the place where i’d be sucked straight to hell… if i believed in hell.”
“ i’m so sorry for your loss.”
“ i’m not sorry.”
“ you’re still here.”
“ i killed you.”
“ no. you just took my life.”
“ so how do i make you go away?”
“ i’m not like them.”
“ now, if it helps, i can tell you it’s not your fault, what you did to me.”
“ i’m not human.”
“ no. you’re just fucked up.”
“ you think it’s as simple as that?”
“ excuse me, i opened this by mistake.”
“ today it is all about the win. i think we really should enjoy this.”
“ i really appreciate your support.”
“ it was simple, really.”
“ all i had to do was put myself into the mind of a killer. hardly a stretch.”
“ trust me, you’re not going anywhere this time.”
“ who the fuck are you?”
“ that kind of talk is just gonna bring you closer to your victims.”
“ no, maybe you didn’t do the deed, but the blood is on your hands.”
“ a lot of blood is on your hands.”
“ why do you care about these people?”
“ why are you doing this to me?”
“ i’m not so much doing this to you as i’m doing it for me.”
“ you leave pain wherever you go.”
“ you kill me, what do you leave behind?”
“ look at that, steady as a surgeon.”
“ this kill was just the first of the loose ends i needed to tie off.”
“ i need to see you.”
“ i’m just dropping somebody off, can it wait?”
“ a shoe? you wanted to see me about a shoe?”
“ i didn’t have a lot to hope for until i met you.”
“ you gave me something to believe in when i didn’t even believe in myself.”
“ it’s not your fault.”
“ it was totally an act of impulse.”
“ what are you trying to say, that you planned on acting on impulse?”
“ that’s where you disappeared to at all hours of the night like clark fucking kent.”
“ if the eyes are the window to the soul, then grief is the door. as long as it’s closed, it’s the barrier between knowing and not knowing. walk away from it and it stays closed forever. but open it, and walk through it, and pain becomes truth.”
“ i’ve been preparing for this my entire life.”
“ it’s annoying, isn’t it?”
“ i’m not taking the bait.”
“ you’re up late.”
“ you don’t need to do this. you don’t need to do this now.”
“ temporary insanity.”
“ you’re right. i smell like a fucking sewer.”
“ i had to say goodbye in order to reconnect with what’s really important. with who i was.”
A/N: This was inspired by the song ‘Dusk till Dawn’ by Zayn and Sia. So, maybe give it a listen? I know it’s a bit short but this was just me trying to get back into writing. I’m hoping to start updating regularly again. Let me know what you think!
Can I request Chris is on a date and she lets him know she has a kid, expecting the worst like with some other guys and Chris is totally engaged asking questions and maybe it time skips a little and they have built their relationship and its finally time for Chris to meet the little guy or girl?. Obviously goes amazing cos he has the same mental age as them 😉 lol.
It had been going well. Almost too well, and that was making you nervous. Weird, right? Normally people get nervous before a date, or if the date is taking a dramatic nose dive in front of their very eyes. But not you, no. A date going well meant that when you did eventually reveal the truth, you’d just be all the more disappointed when he inevitably walked away and you never heard from him again.
So, you chatted and laughed over a delicious dinner and you sipped your wine carefully, just enough to try and quell the raging ball of nerves taking hold in the pit of your stomach. Your body was on automatic countdown to the moment of implosion and, damnit, you didn’t want to go there.
Maybe you could just… not mention it? Just this once? You felt certain another date was on the cards so what would it hurt to save the news until then?
this headcanon means so much to me so of course I’ll be continuing it ♥ (this got fucking long oh my god)
one night during exam season they were going to bed and Even saw that Isak’s thigh was all mottled red and bruising and it took him a few days to realise that it was from Isak stimming and hitting his hand repeatedly against his leg while he worked
after that if he saw Isak stimming he’d weave his fingers through Isak’s and pull his hand up and gently dot kisses over Isak’s shaky fingers
when he was younger (read: when he was first coping with being labelled autistic) he tried going to a support group for people with autism because he was kinda struggling with it and while Jonas was so so good about it he didn’t really get it
Isak went to one meeting and never went back because it was too much it made it too real he didn’t want to need a support group like some drug addict just because his brain worked a little differently
(it didn’t help that he felt so different from everyone there, despite the fact they were all there for the same reason)
the first time Even’s parents cook for him they put raw tomato in the salad and Isak’s heart sinks because raw tomato is his ultimate Nope™ texture
he tried so so hard though because he didn’t want to mess up the first dinner with his boyfriend’s parents so he talked the talk and dazzled Even’s parents but when he tried to eat one of those tiny lil baby tomatoes he just couldn’t
when he bit into it his whole body shuddered and he was 90% sure he was going to vomit everywhere and he was spitting it back out before he could consciously think about it
he quickly excused himself to the bathroom and sat against the door and tried not to cry because he was sure he’d just ruined their impression of him and they were going to think he was so rude and everything was ruined and-
and Even of course came in and wiped the few tears that had squeezed their way out from Isak’s cheeks and reassured Isak that his parents didn’t mind they just felt kinda bad that they didn’t know he hated tomatoes
all subsequent dinners together involved tomato-free salads
sometimes Isak gets bouts of hyposenstivity (nowhere near as often as he gets hypersensitive, but they happen) and his responses are about five seconds slower than usual
sometimes it’s funny, like when Magnus will try to throw shade at him and then a few seconds later Isak drags Magnus even though someone else is talking
sometimes it’s less funny, like the time he was washing his hands and the plumbing fucked up and hot water poured out and Isak didn’t even feel it and finished washing his hands. Even had to put burn cream on his hands and Isak had to talk him out of calling their landlord in a rage about the state of their plumbing
Isak almost never has meltdowns, but when he does they take it right out of him and they’re usually triggered by something that anyone else would deem menial
there was an unfortunate incident when Even was having a manic episode and he reorganised everything in their flat in a way that totally made sense to him at 2.30 in the morning. everything including Isak’s school notes which were meticulously ordered
there was shouting, a lot of struggling to breathe, and the crushing certainty that he was going to fuck up his classes because his notes were a mess
when the episode was over Even apologised for messing with Isak’s system and Isak apologised for losing his shit when he knew Even couldn’t always help it
when Isak was little he was always the child who watched other children rather than engage in the play himself
his parents were always trying to push him to play with the other kids, but Isak was much happier observing them
fun fact: Montessori (one of the most renowned people when it comes to theory about children’s play and learning) noted that some children preferred to observe first before they attempted things themselves, and that adults should not try to force those children to engage before they are ready because children know when they’re ready and will move forwards with their play/learning when they’re ready
Isak wishes more people knew about that because he always felt like grown ups were pushing him to do things before he was ready
Magnus once found out that there was a girl in their class who was also on the spectrum and told Isak and Isak was just like and????? because he wasn’t going to befriend someone just because they were autistic too it didn’t work like that there isn’t a secret handshake or something Mags just drop it
occasionally people will try to use his autism as a weapon. in his maths classes he used to sit in front of a kid who always sneered that Isak was like a shittier version of Rain Man (Mahdi may have sold that guy some high quality shit at a high quality price that was actually just oregano)
Isak hates hates hates when the school chooses an autism charity for events because yeah it’s a great cause but whenever he sees signs encouraging people to ‘raise money for autism’ he feels like such a fucking charity case some pathetic loser who should be pitied because his brain is different
he will also use those times to get the boys do things for him out of spite because he really hates those posters (”you can help people with autism right now by shutting up, Magnus” “you raised money for autism? cool, can I borrow a tenner for some dinner?”)
whenever he hears or sees the words “cure autism” a part of him dies because he hates how misinformed people are but there’s also a part of him that wishes so badly sometimes that he could cure it
most of the time he just doesn’t give a shit tbh it’s just part of his life it’s not like he’s at the other end of the spectrum and he’ll need a carer his whole life he considers himself pretty lucky honestly
he’s never really been good at relating to people emotionally. he doesn’t really get emotional like everyone else seems to so he has no idea how to process it when people start crying on his shoulder. with Even’s help he’s getting better at it though.
as time goes on, Isak gets more and more comfortable with his identity as an autistic gay teen and will be vocal about his limitations in both
”I’m gay, Mahdi, I don’t know if she’d like that position????????”
“I’m having a bad day, please don’t talk to me just let me sit here on the edge without talking or looking at anyone okay”
sometimes Even will draw a jigsaw puzzle piece on his own wrist and then draw the piece that would fit next to it on Isak’s same wrist because they’re both a little bit dysfunctional but together they always make it work (also because a puzzle piece is the logo for autism, as Isak points out, but mostly the cute romantic reason Even insists)
If Gaston tried to count all the women he’s ever kissed, he’d run out of breath. And pass out, probably. He kissed girls in primary school, junior high, and some would argue every single girl in high school. He feels proud for it.
He’s also kissed boys. That started later, though, as a dare in a high school party. It was someone he didn’t know, so he didn’t see the harm in it. Ever since, he’s kissed more and more boys. He loved kissing boys.
But kissing girls was easier because no one questioned you when you kissed a girl.
So Gaston liked to kiss whoever he pleased- there’s just one rule. It would be too complicated if he were to bend or break it. It is metaphorically written in permanent Sharpie marker across everything he owns. He opens his textbook and reads it. He unlocks his phone and reads it. When he wakes up, the rule is written on the ceiling of his bedroom so that he must first read it before going about any other activity.
He doesn’t kiss his friends.
In a lot of first loves stories, the characters would know each other for most of their lives, but not in this one. There was two weeks left in the school year before Gaston graduated. He was thinking of everything in the future tense: what was to be, what was to come, what would unfold tomorrow and the day after and the month and years after that.
Then, in Algebra class, he is pulled backwards as if by a rope around the neck. He’s pulled to present.
“Do you have a pencil I can borrow?”
Gaston blinks. The voice is familiar, and so is the face. But Gaston has never spoken to him before. He’s cute, soft-faced, and gorgeously voiced. It’s so late in the year. The final exam is in three days. There had been no seat changes. This boy had been sitting next to Gaston all year and Gaston had never noticed.
The boy laughs quietly, nervously, and then turns the other way and asks someone else.
It all happens slowly, like Gaston is standing so far away and watching the shadow of this boy interact with someone who is not Gaston. Watch the boy laugh with someone who is not Gaston, and then return a pencil to someone who- again- is not Gaston.
The next day, Gaston gets to class early, and puts a pencil on the desk next to him. It is set down loudly, and makes a sharp, painful sound. Gaston stands next to it and smiles.
When the boy comes to class a few seconds later, he stops in front of Gaston. The desk is between them, holding the evidence of a single pencil. The boy is looking at Gaston like he has two heads, and isn’t even looking at the pencil. Why wasn’t he looking at the pencil? It was a gift, Gaston insisted internally; and although he wanted the boy to acknowledge his efforts, he couldn’t complain to be the target of his gaze.
“Um,” the boy says, “Hello.”
He sits down. He doesn’t notice the pencil. It infuriates Gaston further.
Gaston sits down, too, and says, “I brought you a pencil.”
The boy looks over sharply, surprised. He picks up the pencil, and looks from it to Gaston.
“This is yours?” he says. “I remembered my own today, though.”
Then the boy tries to give it back.
Gaston shakes his head furiously. “No, it’s yours. Keep it.”
For a moment, Gaston feels as if he’s done something wrong. He feels like he should take the pencil back and laugh as if it were all a joke, do something to save himself from drowning- but then the boy starts to smile.
Gaston dies. Not as the spirit dies, but as the flesh dies. He stops breathing and can’t speak and can’t think.
“Thanks,” the boy says. The word is a bandit, robbing Gaston of ability to respond.
The boy turns towards the front of class. The lecture begins. The boy pays close attention, and doesn’t look at Gaston for the rest of class.
When the bell rings, the boy gathers his things.
“I’m Gaston,” Gaston blurts.
The boy turns around, and looks as if he isn’t sure if Gaston is talking to him or not. It’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t Gaston be talking to him? Who else would he rather speak to? There isn’t anyone more worthy of Gaston’s attention.
The boy laughs softly. He juggles his books.
“I know,” he says.
The response makes Gaston’s heart sink. How could he know who Gaston is, and Gaston have no idea who he is?
The boy is leaving, and Gaston runs to catch up.
“What’s your name?”
The boy looks startled. He smiles again, and Gaston dies again.
“Lefou,” he says.
Gaston grins. Lefou. Lefou.
That’s how it starts, anyway. And over the course of the remaining semester and following summer, they grow to be closer friends. Closer, closer still. And Gaston has no idea how he could be sitting right next to Lefou for an entire year and never having seen him before. When they laugh together or play soccer together or go to the movies together, Gaston thinks of nothing else he’d rather do. He thinks of wasted time and wasted opportunity.
Then Lefou would smile, and Gaston would die. His heart would stutter and sputter and give out. Gaston would be a walking corpse, and Lefou the assassin.
They are sitting together on the sofa with popcorn and Doritos and M&M’s, watching a super hero movie and laughing at inappropriate moments with no one to tell them they can’t.
They’re close. Gaston feel’s Lefou’s arm touching his own. It feels like fire. It feels like electricity. It feels like the best thing Gaston has ever felt in his life.
And all he can think about is how he wants to kiss Lefou, but he can’t. They’re friends, and Gaston can’t kiss his friends.
Gaston has kissed many people. He’s loved none of them.
Though despite all his effort, Gaston inevitably breaks his rule.
Lefou is still next to him on the sofa, holding the bag of Doritos, when he starts to droop over and lean into Gaston’s chest. Gaston holds his breath, his heart runs wild. He’s about to ask what Lefou’s doing when he looks down to see Lefou asleep. His lips are pretty, pink, and parted. Gaston loves them.
He takes the bag of chips from Lefou’s hands and sets them down on the table next to them. As he moves, Lefou turns more toward’s Gaston’s chest. There’s a short moment of awkwardness, but Gaston puts his arm around Lefou and everything feels right. It feels like the last piece of a 300-piece jigsaw puzzle has been found and put into place. Gaston is utterly content. He feels warm, as if he’s sitting in the summer sun.
They stay like that for half an hour. Gaston had long since turned the movie volume down to a dull hum so not to wake Lefou. At least, that was the objective.
“Do you like me?” Lefou says suddenly, startling Gaston.
Lefou turns his face up towards Gaston, and Gaston forgets any surprise as it’s covered in adoration. Lefou’s face is flushed, warm, and cute; he blinks blearily, and Gaston dies and dies and dies. He’s in love.
Gaston wants to laugh.
“Yeah,” he says, voice a whisper.
Lefou nods. “What kind of like?”
Gaston’s heart stutters and sputters again. It has yet to give out. He isn’t sure what to say. The moment feels tender and quiet.
He touches Lefou’s hair, and says, “The kind where I want to give you everything you ask for.”
Lefou smiles dopey and wide, “Like a pencil.”
Gaston laughs loud and abrupt. It comes out choked.
“Yeah,” he says, “like a pencil.”
“What if I asked for a kiss?” Lefou says. His voice is gorgeous. Gorgeously-voiced, like the first time Gaston heard him speak in Algebra class a few months ago.
“Yeah,” Gaston nods.
And that’s the day Gaston has his first love’s kiss like every Disney princess movie likes to include. Gaston’s had many kisses in his entire life. He’s kissed more girls than he can count and fewer boys than he would have liked to count before he met Lefou.
But firsts do that to people. Wipes the slate clean. There’s no more counting because nothing else matters. Lefou is every kiss Gaston had ever wanted and ever will want.
Dragon Quest VII: Ok, before you get into your first battle, we really need to introduce the world to you! Explore the town and be sure to talk to everyone so you get a real feel for this world and the people in it. Now go to the other town. Don’t worry, there’s no monsters to get in your way! Talk to everyone here, too. Alright, now go back to the first town. Now head over to the big shrine, then go to the little shrines, they’re technically right over there but the path goes all the way around the island (again, don’t worry about monsters). Now, there were some puzzles here, but we simplified them a little bit! Head back to the big shrine again, and figure out where to put those pieces of equipment. Now go back to the first town, then the second town, and then back to the big shrine one more time. All you have to do is solve the three piece jigsaw puzzle, and then you’re ready for your first battle!
Dragon Quest VIII: Who are you? Who are they?! Where’s the princess?!! DOESN’T MATTER, LOOK OUT, SLIMES!!! GO GOGO GO GO GO!!!!!!
We did not get receipts, but we have gotten the next best thing, and it will suffice for me for now. Here are the little jigsaw puzzle pieces that fit so perfectly together. Magic? Coincidence? Or just that 98% chance that it is true?
1) Z’s first free weekend that we knew of. I talked about this a week ago saying how if they are a couple, she will take the first opportunity, which is this weekend, to go visit him before he starts getting into full 16-hr/day work mode. So, this weekend was just not ANY weekend.
2) Tom’s snap on Friday implying they were done working and the weekend was nigh. Everyone thought he was pretty much saying he is ready to enjoy the weekend, meaning he is free.
3) Ohh la la, what do we have here? Z snapped on a private plane on the day we said she would go visit him. She ran to the plane first thing after KC was done on Friday night. And when does she take private planes? For personal reasons (visiting family, visiting Trev on film set, etc). She also took one for her Daya clothing line pop up store openings but there has been no Daya related anything going on outside of LA lately.
And if she went for a photoshoot, they would NOT pay for a long-ass private plane ride and she would not pay one for a photoshoot either. No matter who the shoot is for, the budget would never cover that. So, this was her taking the plane in the middle of the night for personal business. Also, Darnell travels with her EVERYWHERE, every time. My mutuals and I never thought she would visit Tom without Darnell in tow. If you do not get this, you don’t get how a celebrity PA life is like.
4) I have been following this girl for three months now. She is on twitter liking things first thing in the morning, regardless of if she is on KC set, on a photoshoot, etc, because at work she always gets time to kill. But now, we had her come on SM at 1:30 pm barely liking a tweet and disappearing again for hours. We had Tom liking only Marisa’s pic and not doing anything else. NO SNAPS from Z, which is her MO whenever she is with Tom.
Remember, if there wasn’t a pap chasing them, we would not have gotten her snapchat that day. But my mutuals and I KNEW she was with him that day, as it was his last day in LA, and voila, we were right. Sometimes if a pattern is established, you ignoring it is like ignoring a big road sign in front of you and you still wondering where the signs are.
5) Haz being spotted alone at the gym. But the kicker was not that, but that he said “Tom was up North training”…Hmm, if it was gym/boxing training, he would have done it in Montreal like he has so far. If it was any other training and he needed to go “north”, his PA would tag along. Haz has only been completely alone abroad when Tom and Z hang together. Otherwise he is glued to Tom’s hip, as he has been with all the other training they have done (horseback riding, dog training, etc). Also, what happened to Tom’s “hard work is done; the weekend is nigh” sentiment if he was gonna work on the weekend as well?
6) Sunday comes and we get Haz’s tweet that they are moving to a house.
7) Very few SM activity from Tom and Z on Sunday, the way it was Saturday. But no Snap from Z still during the day. Then in the evening when it is time for her to hit the road again, we have a snap from her from an airport runway. I linked you to the other plane’s activity. It arrived from Denver to LAR airport in Wyoming noon yesterday, which means they were at Wyoming, and it was a refueling stop, because what else would she do in the middle of fucking nowhere? (No disrespect to those who actually live there, lol). And it looked like they were killing time, goofing around while the plane was being taken care of.
8) Again around the time at night, we get a snap from Haz. Lookie here, they are in their house, and Tom is back “from North”. And we get more snaps from Z in a good mood with some love songs playing.
The NORTH thing is MAJOR suspect. Open your eyes, if you think otherwise. Her flying right after work on Friday and going back at night on Sunday makes it so convenient for him to also allegedly disappear to “North” for the weekend.
Overall, for a premiere episode, it was slightly underwhelming in the sense that it doesn’t justify the appearances on Ellen, GMA, Facebook lives, etc. But as a general episode of PLL, it was honestly great. Like I’ve always said, season 7’s episodes are incomparable to season 6 which was a total flop.
I am OBSESSED with this board game! What a brilliant idea for the reveal of the endgame. If every episode is structured by a couple moves on the game plus (somewhat interesting) filler, they’ve got a recipe for success.
The board game is so high tech, which unfortunately reminds me of LucAs. I hope not, but it’s likely. The board in general is great. Can’t wait to see what the rest of the tasks are.
Whoever wrote the episode, kudos to you. This episode had some of the best writing. Forget plot progression, answers, and all that good stuff. I’m talking actual writing. The words and dialogue between characters. Holden’s comment about having a heart attack was a nice touch for long time fans and Veronica and Spencer’s scenes were tragically beautiful. “What did she tell you?” and “what do you think she told me?” - and all those comments about Veronica still being Spencer’s mother at heart; and Mona saying “too bad about Noel. Not really” (homage to their season 1 relationship) - the writing was overall great.
When I see people complain about getting no answers, I just scroll past it. I’m not going to let unnecessary negativity get in my head. I was actually shocked that Spencer confronted Veronica about this and that was an appropriate amount of answers for one episode. I’ve seen people say that we weren’t told anything we didn’t already know - but I think that’s our theory caps talking. We already knew everything Veronica said (and that there was a second shooter; AD) because we theorised it months ago. Seeing our theories verbalised in the show are probably coming across as if nothing is happening because we’ve “known” for so long. But things WERE answered. What a big moment for the PLL series - Veronica freaking admitted to Spencer not being her daughter!
Oh how could I forget: I GOT IT RIGHT!!! Peter and Mary are Spencer’s parents and Peter got Mary pregnant thinking it was Jessica. SO FAR, ONE THEORY IS CORRECT! Let’s see if I stop there for the rest of the season or if I manage to get anything else right…
(Please don’t forget that there was a 1 week later note on screen. Spencer and Toby didn’t get out of the hospital in all of 3 minutes. People complain over nothing.)
Yvonne will not make it out of that coma, no doubt about it.
During the episode I was kind of frustrated at the amount of time they spent on Mona and Hanna and the fashion thing. But, now typing this, I’m smiling. THEY ARE GOING SOMEWHERE WITH THIS. This fashion thing is just a symbol that the writers are using to show that every time Mona tries to help the girls, she gets treated like shit. Just like when Hanna threw out Mona’s bridal shower card unnecessarily. Also it shows Mona’s power over Hanna. This is just the beginning. This filler is going to blow up into something massive and it will reveal Mona’s true alliances down the line. It may be boring now to watch, but they’re going somewhere with it. Keep an eye on it.
I was shocked that Ezra is still staying with Aria without consideration of the circumstances. I thought Nicole would pose a bigger obstacle.
Holden’s return was too corny. “Oh you work here!?” His scenes were probably the most boring of the episode. Whilst it was absolutely great to see this friendly familiar face, I felt underwhelmed that they spent the highly anticipated return episode talking (very slowly and frustrating) about where they want the reception for the wedding to be. That should’ve been saved for a later episode, if not cut out completely.
Bitchy Ali. Hell yes. Welcome back. Please don’t go away too soon. But I did feel bad for Paige. That was just way too bitchy to bring up Paige’s history in the meeting. No one is the same person they were in high school. Paige should’ve slammed back harder because Ali was the worse person in high school.
I know Emison is endgame but… I do like Paige. Always have. Paige is always right about Ali and I won’t forget the accuracy of what Paige said to Emily last finale: call me when you decide to cut the strings with your puppet master.
ALI MIGHT NOT BE PREGNANT. Don’t forget Sasha said at Paley Fest “well Ali says she is (pregnant)” - she didn’t even let Emily come to her appointment!! She’s hiding something. Every time Paige gets in the way, Ali drops a bomb: a kiss, a “I’m pregnant”, “I’m broke and alone, please stay, don’t go out with Paige,” etc. She might not be pregnant after all.
Detective Furey can get lost. I just don’t like him. Is Tanner coming back? What about Holbrook? I liked them. Shit cops obviously, but they were entertaining characters. I hope they’re back before the end.
What was that tiny jigsaw puzzle piece Spencer got and put under the iPhone in the board game? Is that supposed to reveal a picture or something?
So did AD reveal themselves to Jenna - is that what the final scene was? And duh, the liars really thought Jenna and Noel were AD? They didn’t pause to think “where is the A and D coming from then?” I liked hearing that confirmed out loud though.
Overall - an underwhelming PREMIERE, but a fantastic general PLL episode. They’ve got a great formula for success with this board game. I want the girls to turn on each other (but know that they’re doing it because they’re forced! It won’t ruin the friendship.) I want drama. And despite what anyone says, yes we did get some answers and I can’t wait to see what piece to the puzzle we get next week. Another shoutout to the person who wrote this episode because the Veronica/Spencer/Mary reveal was beautiful.
it’s 3:16 am and my thoughts are muddled like a jigsaw puzzle with a missing piece
With each blink comes a new stream of tears, my nostrils are flaring trying to fight them
I try to justify why I shouldn’t be feeling this way… I can’t
My lungs are pressing with this heavy sensation, if I lie really still I can see my heart beating, breaking
I can feel the acidic taste rising in my throat, just waiting for my brain to release one more repressed memory
Slowly I feel the bottled emotions, all of them spilling, pouring over the edge
I trace my arm, revisiting past decisions
My once bright eyes are becoming duller day by day, like clockwork
Stuck in this grey area, no end in sight
I’m fucking drowning
My body is a kaleidoscope of shapes and colours, an endless jigsaw puzzle,
a patchwork quilt pieced together out of strokes of ink, bold and fine, light
and dark, wavy and angular. Good thing that wielding dual blades (not always
daggers; sometimes I pick up two swords as well, or even two barely wieldable
war hammers), I can use both my left and my right hand with equal ease, which
means that no inch of flesh on either side of me (on the front, at least) is
going to be left uncovered.
I began tattooing myself back when I lived in Orzammar - in secret, at
first, adding neat little rectangles and zigzags and dots where my clothes
would conceal them, because I was not sure how my father’s law-abiding merchant
side of the family would react to such a hobby. Tattoos are the hallmark of the
casteless, after all, of my mother’s people: they are forced to walk with a
brand of shame all their lives, shadows of dust, untouchable by respectable
dwarves (unless, like my father, you are desperate for an heir and will turn to
a pretty noble hunter ‘for help’); but some of them take pride in the lines
etched into their skin, and expand them on purpose, adding new colours and
geometrical forms till their whole body becomes a statement. 'Yes, I am
casteless; you sodding sons of nugs have been trying to trample me down, to mix
me into dust, but I am still standing, so eat it!’
I, on the other hand, was not really trying to make a statement. Not… Not
like that. I wish I was, actually; I wish I was as bold as the casteless; I
wish I stood up earlier, and gave a good, long glare to my father, with all the
expectations he had for his precious 'heir’, and said, loud and clear,
'I am a woman, duster. Eat it’.
But I did not. Through most of my youth, I left those words unsaid, tucked
away under my tongue, at the back of my throat like a lump that sometimes would
not let me breathe. I was too afraid of how my family, the people around me
would react: my father would probably just refuse too listen, absorbed as he
was by listening to his own voice retell the plans he had flr my future; his
merchant relatives, not too thrilled by him having taken in a noble hunter,
would probably have thought me crazy, my head muddled by 'that damn brand’s
foul blood’; and my mother’s kin, who were elevated in caste after I was born,
would be angry and terrified, as caste
is passed down from father to son and mother to daughter, and me being a
daughter would have meant exile back to Dust Town for all of us.
So down my throat I pushed those words, choking on them in silence, and in
the quiet of my room, I decorated my body with tattoos - which felt like the
only way I could shape myself the way I wanted to. The only way I could have
control over what I looked like, and actually smile when I touched my own skin.
But then, in my late twenties, a day finally came when the words that had
so long burned at me from within burst out, loud and resounding, just like the
bang of the door when I burst out of my father’s house in the Diamond Quarter
and, dodging the guards with some secret tricks taught to me by a perpetually
tipsy ex-casteless uncle, made it straight towards the surface.
Once out in the open, my head floating away into emptiness, I have mustered
enough courage (once the initial wobbly
feeling passed, that is, and I settled down in a human city) to begin inking
the parts of me that everyone can see. My face. My neck. My forearms. And not
just with abstract shapes, either: I have turned my skin into a chronicle of my
adventures (and, since I stumbled my way into this Inquisition business, there
have been many); a collection of Memories to rival the Shaperate’s, honouring
the friends I have made and the journey we have all travelled together.
There is a swirly flame tongue curling round my right bicep, rising out of
a twisting stream of water - a symbol of that line they say in the human Chant,
about a woman who is made strong by her faith, so strong that, when she walks
through fire, it touches her softly and gently, like water would. Or, well, at
least that’s what I assume it means; I have felt too awkward about asking,
being a supposedly heathen dwarf and all; I suspect that if I did, the Chantry
ladies would have just clucked at me angrily instead of explaining. Either way,
the fire and the water stand for Cassandra, while next to them, there is a
picture of a rose, with blood-like droplets oozing off its curling petals.
I found the picture of the rose in one of those botany books Dorian and
Vivienne dig up for me (at odds as they often are, they both call my
fascination with surface plant life 'endearing’) - and I was very proud when I
managed to copy it onto my skin. It symbolises Leliana, and I guess it would
have been more logical to tattoo it on my other bicep, because Left and Right
Hand of the Divine and all - but the spot on my left arm has already been taken
by a swarm of bees, shaped like a pair of hands giving the middle finger. This
one is for Sera; I added this design to my collection of tattoos in her
presence, to amuse her when she grew restless and aggressive after our
blood-curdling trek through the Raw Fade (apparently, this much walking upside
down and wading through jiggly-bellied black spiders was too much even for most
of the people who have dreams every night). The middle fingers stretch out when
I flex, and this never fails to make Sera howl with laughter.
And now that I have mentioned Dorian and Vivienne, my flesh Memories also
include a tattoo for each of them. The latter gets a string of diamonds,
trailing along the veins of my left arm, with many facets and tiny sparkles
floating around them; I was very meticulous when tracing their outlines, as
Madame de Fer only deserves the very best. The former is symbolised by… no,
not a snake; that would have been too predictable. His Memory is the image of
the mouth of a cave, as seen from within, with stalactites and stalagmites
framing it, a little bit of crosshatching showing the floor, and tiny clouds
and rainbow just barely visible outside.
This tattoo is personal for both of us: we have lived our youths inside a dark
cave, Dorian and I (both figuratively and literally, in my case), stumbling in
the dark, and stifled by always screaming on the inside - and then, we found
our exit. I think that Dorian teared up a little when I showed the recently
inked picture to him; though that might have just been the spicy food Bull was
whipping up for us.
Bull’s tattoo, in turn, shows a literal bull racing across my calf (pun…
probably intended), wrecking some vague dark squares and rectangles, with a
tiny cream-puff on his back (that little thing has stick-figure-like limbs,
spread out gleefully, and a broad grin on its face). I do not quite remember
how that thing appeared on my leg; I think I may still have been drunk after
celebrating our very first successful dragon hunt. But, ridiculous as it is, I
cherish it as much as the others; Bull crouched down next to me when the
dreadnought burned, the gaze of his only eye travelling to where he knew that
charging beast was drawn and, nodding in silent understanding, I kicked off my
muddy boot and let him take the night of it in, until a small smile touched his
Josephine’s tattoo is an intricate lace-like pattern round my ankle,
retouched with golden ink, based on the Antivan leg jewellery she showed me
when we decided to distract ourselves from the finale of that House of Repose
business by going shopping in Val Royeaux. Whereas Varric’s encircles my other
ankle: the words 'Well, shit’ written on a serpentine papyrus scroll in the most
over-the-top calligraphic font I could think of. He loves it to bits, by his
own admission, and has made me promise that if I ever trip up my enemies in
combat, I use only this foot.
Cole, who often watches me work on the canvas of my skin, making those jumbled
comments of his, the more creepily accurate the more you think of them, has
asked for a rabbit - because 'everything is better with rabbits’. So now there is a chubby long-eared fuzzball
nestled about over my shoulder blade, 'little paws hopping, hurrying, hearing
the whispers of the stories that live in your skin’. While I made the design, I
had to ask Solas to help ink it, since I read somewhere that tattooing people
is a huge part of elven culture, which he knows so much about - but for some
reason, he seemed disgusted, if not outright horrified by my request, almost
slamming his door in my face with a sharp, slightly hoarse 'No!’. But after,
startled by such an abrupt change in my usually reserved and courteous elven
companion’s behaviour, I explained what my tattoos were for, he mellowed a
little and gave me an apology (a bit stiff one, but an apology nonetheless),
and we spend the afternoon occupied by a very interesting conversation about
the memories of the dwarves Solas had seen in the Fade (I especially loved the
one about the casteless rising up to defend their city from the darkspawn when
no-one else would), while I lay on his couch and he etched a rabbit into my
He proved surprisingly good at it (though he might have cheated with a
spell or something; you never know with that magicky folk), so, since my other
shoulder blade still had a blank spot left, I offered Solas to add a tattoo of
his own, one that he thought would best represent himself, but he shook his
head softly and evaded the subject, offering to draw me a lion for Cullen’s
strength and courage, instead. I agreed, especially since I had recently had to
comfort the Commander in his struggle to break free from lyrium addiction, and
an image like that seemed encouraging - and quite a fine lion it has turned out
to be, too, with many curls in his mane, like frothing sea waves, with snatches
of shattered chains flying off him in all directions. As for Solas’ tattoo, I
still do not have one - because body art seems like a bit of sensitive subject
for him, and I would rather not hurt his feelings. He is my friend, after all.
And finally, right over my heart, there is an image of a shield, which I
began working on late at night, when still caught up in the feverish flush of
the kiss I shared with Blackwall - that is why the wings adorning it on either
side stand not only for the griffins, the ancient and noble companions of the
Grey Wardens, but also for this soaring feeling that spreads inside my chest
whenever I catch his gaze and he calls me the thing that a younger me would
never have dreamed of being called. 'My Lady’.
That feeling is still there, even after that life-changing step he took
forward on the gallows, with such a look on his face that you might have
thought there was a bottomless black abyss at his feet. That feeling is still
there - perhaps even stronger for it, because I know what it is like, living
among people who are convinced that you are someone else. And luckily enough,
when I first tattooed myself with the shield, I never really added any emblem
to it - this has allowed me to fill it in after Blackwall’s judgement. With the
picture of one of my absolute favourites among the weird things that happen in
this vast and wondrous sky: rain clouds drawing apart, a single ray of sunlight
Feast your eyes on this beautiful Infinity War artwork with not even HALF of the characters featured, which makes me think there’ll be an accompanying poster with Captain America and others, like a two-piece jigsaw puzzle. It’s so amazing yet surreal seeing the Earth heroes beside the comic Guardians 😍
I want to see a kurotsukkiyama fic where it focuses more on the Kuroyama and Tsukki helping them get comfortable with each other.
Tsukki would be a pretty good wingman actually.
I want to see a completely smitten Tsukki watching his two favorite people fall in love with each other.
Imagine all three of them going out on their first official date probably and they’re all dressed up nice to go to this party Bokuaka is hosting and they’re so excited and cute. Yams is expecting to just watch the both of them dance together but instead, Kuroo asks him for a dance. He looks unsurely over to Tsukki but all he does is shrug.
It’s cute, really. Kuroo is trying really hard but Yams is very awkward because it’s his first relationship with anyone, much less two people.
Tsukki quietly watch them waltz awkwardly across the dance floor and he’s so… he’s so in love with them. It brings a smile on his face to see a nervous Kuroo and flushed Yamaguchi dance with each other.
That unsure, shaky hand Kuroo has settled on Yamaguchi’s waist and Yamaguchi’s too tight grip on Kuroo’s shoulder. They’re both fumbling and trying to match each others style and it’s possibly the cutest thing Tsukki’s ever seen.
He can see them slowly falling in love with each other and it’s beautiful and heartwarming. He sees their fond and endearing looks given to one another and feels something stir inside his chest. It couldn’t possibly be jealousy but maybe satisfaction and contentness.
Watching them felt like the moon seeing the sun and stars meet for the first time. Two lights made of the same atoms and dust finally seeing each other. The stars twinkling bright because they have never seen such a huge and bright star before and the sun beaming because such tiny stars can shine so bright and light up the dark sky.
Bokuto and Akaashi walks up to him and they congratulate him on making Kuroyama happen he’s just so grateful for everything. For being able to see them smile so freely against each other now as Kuroo spins Yamaguchi flawlessly across the dance floor like they’ve known each other their whole lives, like two missing pieces of a three piece jigsaw puzzle.
What once used to be pain and jealousy is now love and happiness before Kei’s eyes.
“I’m happy for you that they’re getting along just fine,” Akaashi says and Tsukki nods along.
“Yeah, me too. It makes me feel… strangely happy and at peace.”
“Well you know what,” Bokuto says as he slings an arm around Tsukki’s shoulder, “you guys deserve it, all three of you. This whole relationship thingy is working out fine Tsukki. I’ve never seen you guys this happy before. Congrats!”
Tsukishima can’t help but smile in return as he hears Yamaguchi’s giggles and Kuroo’s soft chuckles as he runs a hand through Yamaguchi’s soft, silky hair. Tsukishima just can’t get enough of them.
He was the moon and Kuroo is his sun while Yamaguchi is his stars.
(Pssst, the whole sun, moon, and stars thingy was originally gonna be tsukki, hinata, and Yams but I bailed out cuz yams has to be hurt so, here ya go. The newer much fluffier and cuter version :))
An exploration of the first episode of Anne the Series (aka ‘Anne
with an E’). This episode is such a wonderful introduction to the
characters and setting of the re-imagined Anne of Green Gables. Unique
in tone and rich in nuance. It provides so many layers for fans to
discuss! Click the ‘Read More’ link to head into spoiler territory…