i think it would be funny if people occasionally arose from the dead. like if that was a real-life one-in-a-million but well-documented Thing That Sometimes Happens, and the entire legal system around death (laws on inheritance & marriage & murder etc) had to include caveats for the unlikely-but-scientifically-possible event that the dead person in question might spontaneously self-resurrect, even years or decades after death. it would raise so many inconvenient and absurd possibilities

Joseph Harrell, the 17-year-old teen who was arrested in connection to a violent robbery that left a Vietnamese mother paralyzed last month, was caught on jailhouse phone calls confessing to the crime and continuing to threaten the victim.

In the calls obtained by ABC 13, Harrell can reportedly be heard discussing probation while laughing at those who think he could spend up to 20 years in prison for his crime.

"We were snatching purses," Harrell confessed. "I hopped out, snatched the purse, the lady ran with the money, I grabbed her, slammed her and she was paralyzed."

The lady probably wants justice and some more (expletive). They'll try to max me out 20 years basically. That (expletive). I ain't going for it. The (expletive) already ran up $230,000 off GoFundMe. (Expletive) better run on with her life. Like, (expletive) you done run up $230,000. Look. They say she ran up $230,000 and she'll be back walking in no less than a year.

The recording was obtained from a source close to the investigation amid a judge’s controversial decision to cut the suspect’s bond in half from $200,000 to $100,000.

Harrell, who was also charged in a separate robbery that took place more than a week later, also had his bond lowered from $40,000 to $30,000 for that case.

President of Houston Police Officers Union Douglas Griffith told ABC 13 that Harrell will be a threat to the public if he makes bond.

My concern is for the public. If this kid gets out of jail, he is going to victimize more individuals. He does not care about anyone but himself, and for the judge to lower his bond baffles my mind. I can't wrap my head around it. This kid is a danger to others and the community and needs to be locked up.

On Feb. 13, Harrell was captured on surveillance footage physically attacking Nhung Truong, 44, during a robbery at the 9800 block of Bellaire in Houston, Texas.

Truong, who had withdrawn a large amount of cash for an upcoming trip to visit her family in Vietnam, suffered broken ribs and a severe spinal cord injury.

Authorities said the suspect observed Truong withdrawing from a bank in Chinatown before following her for more than 20 miles to Bellaire.

On Feb. 13, Harrell was captured on surveillance footage physically attacking Nhung Truong, 44, during a robbery at the 9800 block of Bellaire in Houston, Texas.

Truong, who had withdrawn a large amount of cash for an upcoming trip to visit her family in Vietnam, suffered broken ribs and a severe spinal cord injury.

Harrell’s 19-year-old accomplice, Zy’Nika Ayesha Woods, was also arrested and charged with robbery. Woods was handed a $50,000 bond.

If Harrell makes bond, he would be placed under house arrest and be required to wear a GPS monitor.

Truong is currently unable to walk.

The single mother, who has been relying on help from her three children, may never regain full function of both legs. Her doctors said that there is a 50% chance she will fully recover.

"I'm feeling really scared that they are coming after us because of what happened. I need everyone's help to get them the punishment they deserve," she previously told ABC13.

As of Wednesday, the GoFundMe campaign that was set up by Truong’s family has raised more than $330,000 in donations.

Authorities said the suspect observed Truong withdrawing from a bank in Chinatown before following her for more than 20 miles to Bellaire.

okay. let's do this shit.

Guess what, bitches? Mama bear's back and angry all over again. Remember when I said I might dive into a ragepost about how Bucky's treated after completing the one about Loki? This is it. This is the post. Welcome to fucking Thunderdome.

I will actually try to keep it civil. No promises, but I'll try. and I will not be accepting "constructive criticism" about my rage. Just so we're clear.

Got it? Good. Let's dive in.

In case you don't want to read the whole thing (I know I get wordy) here's what this whole post will boil down to: BUCKY NEVER HAD A FUCKING CHOICE. NEVER. NOT ONCE IN HIS ENTIRE ADULT LIFE.

Now, quick reminder: I don't read comics. I know nothing about Bucky's comic canon, except what Sebastian liked to bring up as often as possible during TWS/CW promotions: at some point, Bucky boned Nat. XD Since Bucky only exists as a Marvel property, I won't be bitching about other source material being disrespected like I did with Loki. This is all MCU, my dudes. And honestly? That's enough, because though we don't see nearly enough of Bucky for my liking, we do manage to get a rich, deep backstory to him in the material we're given, partly thanks to better writing in the early days of the MCU, and partly thanks to Sebastian Stan's phenomenal acting. Unlike the writers of the Loki series, Seb knows how to show, not tell. And gods, what stories those eyes show...

Let's start with the army. In an old post illustrating what an absolute BAMF Bucky Barnes truly is, I mistakenly said he enlisted, and a kind soul educated me on the incredible attention to detail Marvel used to pay - in this case, Bucky's ID number. 32557038. As this kind, eagle-eyed soul pointed out to me, the first two digits of that number - 32 - signify that Bucky was drafted, specifically from the NY, NJ, DE area (that last part is rather obvious, as Bucky and Steve are from Brooklyn lol). Bucky didn't choose to go to war. He was drafted. He was forced to fight, or go to prison.

Bucky was born in 1917, which means - again, as someone pointed out to me a while back - he came of age during the Great Depression. As a child, he would likely have seen his parents living comfortably and able to shower each other and him and his sister with gifts and fun memories, and then POOF. Stock market crashes when he's only 12-years-old, and life becomes brutal and painful. He manages to have some fun with his best friend Steve, and spends his teens/early 20s chasing girls and keeping his stupid, stubborn, tiny friend from getting beaten to death.

Steve constantly has something to prove. He's absolutely got what my mom always called "little man's disease", and Bucky's just doing his best not to roll his eyes too much at this asthmatic chihuahua constantly trying to beat up Tibetan mastiffs. While Steve keeps lying on his enlistment forms (an actual crime) trying again and again to get into the army and prove what a badass he is (definitely not), Bucky's had enough trauma and upheaval in his life and he just wants his stupid friend to calm tf down and live. Enjoy the fact that he doesn't have to go to war and get his limbs blown off.

And then he gets fucking drafted. This sweet, resigned realist who knows exactly how dangerous the war really is, is forced to put on a uniform and go fight strangers alongside other strangers thousands of miles from everything he knows. And on his last night of freedom, when he just wants to hang out with his friend, see some cool gadgets, and dance with a pretty girl, his stupid angry chihuahua friend feels the need to lie and try to enlist again.

Okay. Gotta get back on track. Ragepost about mistreatment of Bucky, not how much Steve annoys me. Sorry. Anyway...

Bucky's drafted, accepts his shitty lot with a brave smile, and is shipped off to Europe, where he is captured by HYDRA and presumed by the Allies to be KIA. Instead, he's strapped down, tortured, and given the HYDRA version of the super serum against his will. Steve rescues him, and Bucky knows he can't leave his idiot friend to his own devices to get his head blown off, so he dives right back into the fray. And then he falls off a cliff, loses most of his left arm, and is declared dead...again. This one's pretty damn valid, though lol. Without the serum no one knew he'd been shot up with, there is no way he would have survived that fall.

Here is where Bucky's story gets truly heartbreaking: His autonomy, his ability to consent is stripped from him through electroshock torture/brainwashing. The trigger words are conditioned into him during this process, and boom. Ten words in Russian, and Bucky Barnes is gone. Even the confused, hurting shadow of him is gone, leaving only a perfectly obedient killing machine, with Bucky's pretty face. He's strong as all hell, though, so they can't keep him fully under their control for long, not without more torture, when the disorientation of being fucking frozen wears off on longer missions.

I cannot stress this point enough, guys: Bucky. Had. No. Choice. Not like the draft, where his choices (go and get shot at, refuse and go to jail, or dodge and run to Canada) just suck. No, he literally didn't have a choice. He had his ability to choose stripped from him. If that's too complex a concept to really sink in, try this: His brain was fucking raped. Repeatedly. For decades. Nothing the Winter Soldier ever did was Bucky's fault. Nothing. Ever. Not remotely, no matter how you fucking slice it. Bucky is not an assassin. I almost said "not a killer", but he was a soldier, and a sharpshooter. He definitely killed when he was himself, but that was in a war, not a series of assassinations.

So far, imo, so good. This is just a rundown of Bucky's pre-show backstory. I don't love what he had to suffer, but I do love how it was treated in the movies. People were afraid of him, but when they knew the whole situation, Steve, Nat, and Sam rallied behind him. Natasha had plenty of reason to want the Winter Soldier dead; he'd tried to kill her multiple times and almost succeeded. Sam had no reason to help Bucky at all; he didn't know him, didn't trust him, and again, TWS had tried to kill him. But he stood by Steve, and when Bucky showed the clear difference between himself and TWS, Sam stood by him, too, and fought alongside him.

And it's very realistic, imo, that Tony didn't give a single fuck that Bucky had no choice. He watched this man murder both of his parents on tape. If TWS had killed my dad and I saw proof of it, I'd try to kill Bucky, too. Grief wins out over logic. Most emotions usually do. And that's a very important point we're going to come back to in a few minutes.

Bucky was really only in like ten minutes at most of IW and Endgame, and for multiple reasons I hate those movies, so I'm just gonna skip them, kay? Kay. On to the main event!

Here's where I get pissed off. Even if I didn't have an unhealthy attachment to this character, or the depth of appreciation for his tragic backstory that I do, the lack of continuity between the movies and the show alone would still piss me off. It always does. Don't even get me started on Joss "Continuity? What continuity?" Whedon and his (iconic, but flawed) shows. Ahem. Back on track...

Let me just get one little thing out of the way real quick: I fucking LOVE The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I love it. This show amazed me when I first watched it, and I still love it after many more viewings lol. I have only ever watched it all the way through without skipping over as much John Walker shit as possible the one time lol but I love how Sam and Bucky interact, and I fucking adore how Sam's arc was treated. I just wish they'd show the same care and attention to Bucky.

Because what they did to Bucky in this show is a fucking travesty. There was a tiny ray of hope in the pilot, when he called out Dr. Bitchface for being a terrible shrink. I thought that would be the start of him realizing he needed to find someone else and ignore the damaging shit that woman was telling him. But...nope. No such luck.

The show really had a strong start, I'll give it that. We see Bucky having nightmares of his time as TWS and struggling to hide how his traumatic memories are affecting him as he tries to live in the world again. He befriends the father of one of HYDRA's victims, which can't be good for Bucky (and we're shown it's definitely not when he sees the shrine in Yori's home to his late son) but it's sweet, how he's trying to connect and reach out to someone who's hurting and lonely.

They drop the ball a little with the whole... Bucky can hack a fucking car, but can't figure out Tinder thing. Had they just run with the fandom interpretation of the tiger photos line, that it shows that Bucky is bi and left it at that, I'd have been okay with it (and no, that is not because I ship Sam/Bucky. it's because Bucky is and always has been a certified nerd who loves technology and has consistently shown very little issue learning to use new gadgets). The outdated flip phone he handed his terrible court-mandated shrink was a burner; I liked that theory when I read it, especially since it's the only time we see him even holding a phone that old lol. This all could have fit the "Bucky is a sassy bisexual nerd" narrative and it'd be okay. Instead, the director was like "NOOOOOO that line was just to show how old he is and how he can't figure out all this newfangled technology!" Woman, you had him remotely driving someone else's vehicle with a tablet. That is NOT a man who can't figure out a damn smart phone!

But that's just a minor annoyance. What fills me with absolute rage is how everyone - not just the shitty therapist who lashes out at and purposely triggers her traumatized patients, but EVERYONE - Sam, Zemo, people who should fucking know better ALL treat him like he's a psychopath and a ticking time bomb. Like he chose to take the serum and he chose to kill for HYDRA, and he's just seen the error of his ways. *barf*

Bucky in the movies is established to be a victim, through and through. His guilt over what he was forced to do is natural, and that he sees himself as a monster makes sense... but that doesn't mean it's correct. The one and only thing I ever liked about Steve Rogers is at least he got it. He pointed out that none of it was Bucky's fault, he tried to show him that he was worth saving. That's the other reason I refuse to talk about Endgame. This post will get a WHOLE LOT LONGER and a lot fucking angrier if I open that door.

Zemo supposedly knows everything about HYDRA and super soldiers... So why does he treat Bucky like he's a corrupt serial killer? (this, for the record, is why I don't like Zemo) Why does he never point out that Bucky was given the serum against his will, or that his actions, when he had control of them, proved that he was never corrupted? Bucky never wanted to become superhuman. Bucky didn't even want to fucking fight!

Sam, despite constantly resisting the label, is shown very clearly to be Bucky's friend. By episode 3, he cares. He worries about how Bucky is getting lumped in with the other super soldiers in Zemo's speech... But he never really defends him. He says "what about Bucky?" but he doesn't point out that Bucky's a good man, he's fought so hard to help people, he does everything he can to avoid killing... And that fucking speech in episode 5. I was with him on "you gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are." I was like "YEAH! Tell him, Sam! Bucky, you're WORTH SAVING, boo! Your value does not hinge on someone else's opinion of you!" And then... Sam dropped the ball.

He not only continued the disturbing pattern of victim-blaming in this show, and in Marvel/Disney properties in general, but he gave really dangerously bad advice! No one in their right mind, mental health professional or no, would EVER tell a traumatized former assassin (whether he was responsible for his actions or not) to go confront his victims' families out of the blue with no warning and no one to mediate and keep things from going to shit. Yori already knew his son had been murdered because he was in the "wrong place, wrong time." How is it being "of service" to tell him you're the one who killed him?! Remember how I said Tony's reaction to learning the full truth about his parents' deaths was valid and would be an important point later? Hi! Welcome to later. THAT is the natural reaction to facing the man who murdered your loved one(s). And even if Yori didn't get angry and lash out, HOW IS IT "HELPING" HIM OR BRINGING HIM "CLOSURE" TO KNOW THAT HIS FRIEND KILLED HIS FUCKING SON?!?!?! This man befriended him, bonded with him, watched him grieve... And now he's learning this is the man who caused all his pain and heartache to begin with? That is so toxic and psycho I just... I can't even... UGH.

And then there's the equally toxic and damaging "deeply traumatized person just needed a stern talking to and a hug to be ALL BETTER AGAIN" ending. I loved seeing Bucky happy and socializing, but it was too soon, and it was unearned. And it sends a fucking awful message to people actually struggling with PTSD, and to their loved ones who don't know how to help them. Heaping more blame on them and then hugging it out is NOT helpful!

This show could have been damn near perfect with just two changes. That's all. Just two. 1) Someone, anyone, bringing up the reasons why Bucky was never a villain in his presence. Someone being in his corner and reminding him, like Steve did, that it wasn't his fault and he's not going to "snap". 2) More time devoted to Bucky's healing. Actual fucking healing, not the shit they tried to pass off as a magic fix-all. He can have his happy barbecue moment, just don't frame it as "everything's great now!" Healing isn't linear, and there will be both good days and bad. Some of the most fragile people in the world have the brightest smiles.

If we get a season 2, which this amazing show absolutely deserves, and they address this stuff, all will be forgiven in my book. Expanding on his story and his journey toward healing will help to reframe that "happily ever after" garbage as something more realistic. But as it stands now... Fuck Marvel.

Bad blood

Warnings: racism, hate crime, cannon type violence, kinda but not really smutty so like 16+ as always if I missed someone pls tell me !

A/n the girls of Wattpad really liked this one so I hope you all enjoy as well!

"Y/N you and Reid are going to lead this interview even though you are together make a great team and I think you can crake him are you guys okay with that?"

Spencer and I looked and each other and smiled in unison we replied.

"Yes we are more than okay with that"

Spencer and I have been together for 2 years 324days and 6 hours well that's what he said to me when I woke up next him laying of his bare chest, even though we basically spend every day together we still needed uno special time together and oh was it special. Before we told hotch about our relationship we were able to be in the field together until one time I thought Spence died and then I started crying and it was a whole big thing but now are months not working together we got to do what we both love and with each other.

Before we walked into the interrogation room together Spence turned to me and said.

"Are you sure your okay to do this, you don't have to if you don't want to this case is close to you even if he didn't hurt your family"

This unsub was committing hate crime murders for the last nine months pretending to go on dates with balck women then brutally murder them, Garcia found his manifesto online called "the eradication of all unpure women" it took Kevin who was with her at the time to calm her down as she had to read it out loud I felt bad for her but everyone else felt bad for me. Was looking at me in that moment I wished more than ever to be where Tara was right now, interviewing a child rapist.

I replied to Reid whilst plastering on a fake smile,

"Spencer I'm gonna be fine if anything these women looking like me being like me makes me wanna catch this motherfucker even more"

He smiled and gently kissed me before we both walked in.

"Tyler Walker do you know hey your here"

He ignored my question then Spencer asked the same one only then did he reply.

"Tyler if I'm going to be in here you need to speak to both of us" I sternly replied

"Well if your gonna bring you boyfriend in here since you clearly can't do this on you own them I'm gonna talk to the man here if you'd don't mind"

Spencer interjected saying

"Tyler we found the hearts of all the women murdered in you home why were they in there?"

I don't know I didn't touch them"

He didn't ask if you touched them we asked what you did to those girls" I sternly said.

"You know what If you want to know what I hypothetically would have done to those women I tell you, but only little miss chocolate in the room and only her."

Before Reid could protest I said "yeah sure let's talk"

Spencer's POV

As I walked to the door I gave y/n a reassuring smile she turned and gave me one back but her face was filled with anger and fear, she would never tell me this but she was scared. We didn't shy away from the topic of race within our relationship I read of lot of books and educated myself before I even started dating her I would never understand but I will always try my hardest to be there. And sometimes she just wanted to come home and cry let her emotions out about what it was like being black in American and that was okay as well because I love her.

"How do you think she's gonna do in there?" JJ asked reluctantly

"If I'm being honest I don't know"

Y/N's POV

I sat down trying to make myself look bigger and take up more space within the room than I actually did to encourage my self but in my head I was fucking shitting it.

"Okay we are alone now tell me"

"Just remember sweetheart this is all hypothetical I never did anything if the thing I am about it say" Tyler replied in a menacing tone

"Yes I know get on with it then"

The next 15 minutes felt like a blur, 15 minutes 900 seconds that's how long I heard Tyler speak about all the torcher he wanted to our women like me through half way he started to refer to the women with my name making me imagine him doing these Haines and despicable things to me. I think what was the worst part was that he was smiling whilst he describe these disgusting thing to me he smiled I felt violated and felt used and felt like he had infested my personal space chipping away at the emotional armour I developed whilst having this job.

Once he finished I was on the brink tears but I never going to show him that I left the room being met only by Spencer's face he was seething but I didn't care I just wanted him to hold me to tell me everything was going to be okay.

"Y/N it's okay your okay your other now" he said whilst soothing me.

"I just don't think I can get back in there-"

As I said that Derek stormed in took one look at me and brought me to his arms even though it wasn't Spencer it just felt right in the time to hug him he would understand the most out of the team what I was going through.

"Y/N I know you said you don't want to go back in there but he got him his prints were all over the bodies we found and he had the hearts of the victims he's going to go away for a long time but now you can tell him that take back your power Y/N"

"Ok I'll do it"

"Y/N are you sure you wanna do it this you don't have to?" Spencer said whilst searching my eyes for any fear I had.

I smirked at Spencer whilst he looked at me in confusion I replied.

"Nope I'm okay and I know just what I'm gonna talk about"

By this point the whole team was in the room

"Y/N are you okay love I heard what happened"

"I'm okay Emily but right now you get to watch me drag a white supremacist to filth."

I barged into the interrogation room not letting Tyler speak.

"Okay listen Up bird brain your already done for we found your prints all over the body and that were at your house so now this is just a formality"

"So if you think you've caught me why I am not in a jail cell right now? Hmm"

"You were so nice to me and described the rape, torture, murder and the disfigurement that you would do to me so now I'm just going to repay the favour"

"You know you were right about him being my boyfriend you know"

"so the lanky white one is you boyfriend, I've always said that pure breads shouldn't mix with you people"

"Tyler your going to prison for a very long time you racist rhetoric means nothing to me,but since you I have been so kind to me I am going to spend the next 15 no 20 minutes going in full detail about the amazing sex I had with my white boyfriend last night if we can fit it all in 20 minutes. We will just have to see won't we?"

Spencer's POV

My jaw had dropped to the floor when y/n said that I mean yes it would be hot for her to describe every single we did last night both of us have an eidetic memory so I know she remembers it all but in front of a racist unsub I had I was weirdly impressed and terrified at the same time.

"You don't think she's actually gonna do that?" I asked to the team in complete and utter shock

"Reid when was the last time y/n has ever lied to us?"

"Once JJ but she couldn't even go the whole day telling the lie she ended buying hotch a dozen of his favourite donuts even though she only ate one"

Derek and Emily started chuckling and said.

"That means she's not lying"

The unsub was seething with anger when y/n carried on speacking

" Tyler I didn't a little digging on you and I found out form you pervious girlfriends that apparently you can't put it up in one of you girlfriends exact words she says no matter how hard I tried he could never get hard"

"You don't know anything you slut"

"oop Tyler your using big words especially with someone who only has the education of a 5th grader"

But you know what Tyler lucky for you I have and eidetic memory I don't think you know what that is so I'm just gonna tell you... that means I remember everything so we're gonna have some fun together hmm"

20 minutes, 1200 seconds that's how long y/n spoke in detail about about sexual escapades from last night throughout these 20 minutes Derek started recording so he could send this back to Garcia. Light  chuckles and laughs were heard here and there then oos and ahhs, then total shock was the look on everyone's face and a gasp coming from Garcia who Derek had patched in a phone call so she could listen too when y/n got to the last bit.  I guess they just assumed because I'm the youngest apart from y/n and .... well I'm me that we would have a boring sex life but I guess we surprised them.

Y/N's POV

After I finished I wasted no time in leaving but before I did I said one more thing.

Tyler you are going to prison for a very long time you probably get life or even the death penalty so I want you to remember what I spoke to you about every single time you try your hardest to get it up every. Single. Time. I hope you know after your manny years in prison never getting to see the outside again and you die I will be sleeping soundly knowing you are burning in hell"

I walked out and the whole team was silent in utter shock of what I said then i realised I probably shouldn't have said any of that too an unsub.

" omg hotch I am so sorry that was completely inappropriate and unacceptable what I did in there and wasn't right at all I-"

"I'm sorry y/n I don't know what your talking about what did you say in there"

"What I just spent the last 20 minutes-"

Seriously y/n what are you talking about you went I told him what he was being charge for and you walked back out hun what are you talking about?"

Im what I'm so confused what?"

Then Spencer finally said

"Babe I know I can be dumb sometimes but please read the room"

I looked around still so confused until I finally realised.

Ohhhhh ok yeah yeah I get it now"

Okay but when are you are pretty boy releasing the sex tape cause I would like to pre order"

The whole teams was laughing including me and Spencer I replied simply with

"in your dreams Morgan in your dreams" 

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 5)

Chapter summary: Aaron and the rest of the BAU finally make an arrest on their case, and you spend the weekend at Aaron’s.

Warnings: SMUT, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms

prev. chapter || masterlist || read on ao3

I had a few, got drunk on you, and now I’m wasted

And when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you tasted

- Harry Styles, “Medicine”

 ~~~~~~~

The investigation was slow going, and every day when you got off the metro to get to your internship, you would see the undercover van that you knew had BAU members cramped inside, sitting and waiting for somebody, anybody , to slip up and say something incriminating. 

  It was weird being at work knowing that it was bugged, but it did wonders for your productivity. Whenever Chris or another one of your friends at the office started to ask you about your personal life, you were able to deflect it with a quick “Sorry, I’m in the zone right now, and I’ve really got to focus!” Usually, you had no problem sharing, but you really didn’t want the FBI to have audio evidence of your retelling of you double fisting vodka Sprites the night before until you passed out in your bathtub. 

  You also hadn’t seen Aaron since that first night together, which was almost a week ago now. The two of you had been texting back and forth pretty consistently, but you quickly found that there was a variable that wasn’t there two years ago - Jack.

You should have realized that, of course , Jack would be living with Aaron now, but it never crossed your mind. Jack used to live with Haley, and Aaron rarely brought him up to you. Now that Jack lived with Aaron, it made things a little more complicated. It also meant that you couldn’t just show up at Aaron’s doorstep whenever you were feeling lonely, or vice versa. After a long and awkward phone call, Aaron and you had both agreed that it was best that Jack just didn’t meet you, just in case he got attached.

  “For now, at least,” Aaron had added at the end, and holy shit, you did not have the time to unpack whatever the fuck that meant.

  Especially not with Chris throwing a crumpled piece of paper at you like the two of you were in middle school and passing notes.

  You held up the ball of paper with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously? You have the desk across from me, you could have just said my name.”

  “What are you doing tonight?” he asked you, pointedly ignoring your question. “Nina just got the Catan expansion pack and she wants us all to come over.”

  You pursed your lips as you thought about the offer. You did love game nights with your friends, but it was Friday night and you were still holding out on the possibility of Aaron maybe being free and inviting you over. It was almost pitiful how touch starved you were after just a few days of not being with Aaron.

  “I’m not sure whether or not I’m busy tonight,” you admitted, maybe speaking a little too loudly in the direction of the listening devices, just in case Aaron was listening in. 

  Chris gave you a knowing smirk. “Oh, are you waiting to hear from your secret lover?”

  “Okay, don’t use the word ‘lover’ again,” you groaned. “And what makes you think that it was anything more than a one night stand?”

  “Because when you’re not actively texting, you’ve been checking your phone every 20 minutes.”

  Your face turned red as you sunk into your seat, trying and failing to hide yourself. Maybe if you willed it hard enough, the ground would open up and swallow you whole, just to save you from the embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were checking your phone so often, but you also didn’t doubt it. 

  “Fine,” you grumbled, deciding that coming clean to your friends was going to be much easier than having to deal with them bringing it up at every moment possible. Besides, you didn’t have to give them all the details. “I will tell everybody all about him, but later . Not now.”

  Chris smirked as he leaned back in his chair, obviously proud of himself. You turned back to your work, mindlessly doing edits as you came up with a cover story in your head.

  Ran into an old friend, you could say. We got drinks, and then one thing led to another. That could work, except you came to the realization that you didn’t have any photos of Aaron, which would be suspicious if he was an old friend. You would have to look him up, which you were sure would just lead to a slew of FBI ID photos and news articles, which would mean that they’d just do some major googling of their own. You had avoided looking up Aaron, maybe in fear of what fucked up cases he had been involved in, but your friends would not hesitate.

  You could come up with something so ridiculous that they would just laugh about it. Yeah, I got a sugar daddy and he made me sign a nondisclosure agreement, sorry! You giggled to yourself just thinking about it. Aaron would probably be mortified at the thought. Although, he did wear a Rolex, so you guessed that anything was possible.

  “Holy shit, Y/N,” Chris mumbled, and you just gave a lazy hum as a reply, not really paying attention. “The FBI is here.”

  Your head snapped up at that . You whipped your head around so that you could face the entrance, and sure enough, the entire BAU team was walking in like they owned the place, with Aaron in the lead. They all had their FBI vests on, a sight which was way more attractive than it should have been. JJ and Reid stayed at the entrance to make sure nobody got out.

  “Everybody, please stay calm,” JJ called out, putting her hands up non threateningly. “Everything is okay, but we need you all to stay sitting exactly where you are.”

  A commotion came from the conference room and against your better judgment, you turned your head to watch what was going on. It wasn’t just one person getting arrested, it was every partner. You watched as Aaron spun Julian DuPont around by the wrist and pushed his face down on the conference table and oh, the FBI vest was nothing compared to watching Aaron arrest somebody.

  If anybody asked you if you got turned on during an FBI raid, you would vehemently deny it, but watching Aaron take out his handcuffs made your mind flash back to all those times you were in that same position, cuffed and bent over, completely at Aaron’s mercy. 

  Just as quickly as they came in, the BAU made their arrests and made their way back out. As Aaron passed your desk, his eyes met yours for a brief second and the corner of his mouth quirked up smugly. It was so subtle and quick that even you barely caught it, but you knew that look.

  At least you weren’t the only one in this situation with your mind in the gutter.

  Once the rest of the BAU was out of the building, JJ and Reid started the process of getting everybody else out of the office so that CSI could come in and finish looking around. When you passed by them, both agents greeted you with a warm smile, like the three of you were old friends.

  “Y/N, we’re going to need to get your statement before you go home,” Reid told you as you walked by, and you just nodded in confirmation.

  Once you got outside, you were immediately greeted by some agent named Anderson. He needed to get your statement on the work you did with the team, and you quickly gave him the PG version of the story. Your mind, however, was more focused on finding Aaron, who you knew had to be somewhere in the crowd. God, how long did it take to write down a simple statement?

  “I’ll take it from here, Anderson. Thank you.” 

  Aaron’s voice sent shivers down your spine and you spun around to look at him. You brought your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Nice arrest, although I’m surprised. Mr. DuPont doesn’t even drive himself to work, I can’t imagine him waiting out to kill somebody.”

  “That’s because he hired hitmen,” Aaron explained. “The victims were all bribing judges to get their cases dismissed, and all of those dismissed cases looked really bad for his prosecuting record.”

  You shrugged, placing your hands on his hips. “Probably not as bad as prison, though.”

  That actually got a laugh out of Aaron, but he quickly composed himself as another agent walked past the two of you. “Yeah, he’s not going to be practicing law ever again.” 

  You opened your mouth to say something - maybe to invite him over? You weren’t totally sure - when one of the CSI’s came over to ask Aaron something.

  Aaron waved him off, telling him that he would be there in a moment, before turning back to you. “My house will be empty all weekend,” he whispered, looking around to make sure nobody was watching. “Pack a bag, come over.”

  Before you could even answer him, Aaron had already taken off. You made your way towards the metro so that you could run home before heading to Aaron’s. You had to fight the smile that was growing on your face when Aaron mentioned packing a bag. Not only was it an unspoken promise of a weekend full of sex, it also meant that he was planning on making room for you to keep some of your stuff at his house. The two of you were quickly falling back into your old routines, and it was weirdly comforting.

  When you got to your house, you made a split second decision to change out of your work clothes into a more casual outfit, although it didn’t matter much what you were wearing. It’s not like it was going to stay on for very long. As you packed your bag, you ordered an Uber, knowing it would get you to Aaron’s place faster than the metro. 

  Sure, you were a little impatient, but it had been so long since you had spent the night at Aaron’s place. It always intrigued you how different it was at his house than it was at yours. You were just staying in a shoebox apartment while you were in college - something liveable and temporary until after you graduated and got a job where you could put actual roots down. Your decor was fairly minimum, an assortment of knick-knacks and photos of your friends.

  Aaron’s place was different. It was a certifiable, adult house with framed art and random decorative bowls scattered around. All of his kitchenware was a part of a matching set and his living room looked like all the pieces were picked out by an interior designer. In a weird way, being at Aaron’s house gave you a glimpse of the life you could have in just a few years. Sometimes, it was easy to imagine that you were a part of his world.

  You couldn’t think like that, though. Especially not when he greeted you at his door with an eager kiss, pulling you in so that you were pressed against him.

  “I’m going to use this entire weekend,” Aaron mumbled against your lips in between kisses. His hands slid up your sides, pulling your shirt off almost immediately. “To thoroughly and completely ruin you, until you can only say my name.” 

  Your fingers tangled in his hair as you smiled into the kiss, your fingers already working on the buttons of his shirt. A soft moan escaped your lips, which only encouraged him to deepen the kiss.

  The two of you stumbled towards Aaron’s bedroom, only detaching your lips when absolutely necessary and leaving a trail of clothes behind you. You needed to be naked, to feel your bare skin pressed against his. His hands were impossibly everywhere all at once - running up your thighs, cupping your breasts, and gripping your hips so hard that it was bound to leave bruises. Your body burned everywhere he touched and soon all you could think about was him and how badly you wanted him to touch you where it mattered.

  Once you got to his bedroom, Aaron pressed you against the wall. You tried to grind against him, but he moved one of his hands onto your hips so that he could hold you in place. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, sucking just enough to make your back arch. “You have no idea how often I thought of you this week. How hard it was to listen to you and not think about how you sound when you’re begging for me. How badly I needed you.”

  Your nail scratched down his back lightly, just enough to elicit a soft hiss from him. “Desperation is unbecoming on you, Aaron,” you teased, knowing that would get a reaction out of him.

  It worked. One of his hands stayed on your hip, pressing you firmly against the wall, while his other hand tangled itself in your hair, pulling your head back so that your face was lifted up towards him. He kept you at an arm's distance as his eyes raked your body up and down hungrily.

  “I’m desperate?” he said scornfully. “Coming from the girl who is so needy that she couldn’t stay away from her phone for more than a few minutes, just waiting for me to want you. I could have called you at any time, and you would have dropped everything just to let me use you, isn’t that right? You’d let me do anything to you, just like the filthy slut you are.”

  You visibility gulped at his statement but you nodded obediently, which earned you a sharp tug of your hair.

  “Yes, Aaron, fuck ,” you gasped out. “I would have let you do anything at any time, just please…”

  Aaron gave you a predatory grin as the hand on your hip slowly made its way up your stomach until it cupped your right breast, thumbing lightly over your nipple. It wasn’t enough to get any real pleasure, but it made you moan all the same.

   “You did such a good job this week,” he murmured, looking at you almost worshipfully like he wanted to commit you to memory.  “I was going to give you whatever you wanted tonight. But maybe that would make me too desperate .”

  You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but it was no use. “I- I-” you stuttered out. You couldn’t think straight.

  “I- I-,” Aaron mocked. “I thought you were a lot more intelligent than that. Come on, Y/N, whatever you want. Use your words. Unless pleasure’s turned you into a stupid whore.” He punctuated the last word with a light spank to your clit, which made you cry out and your legs instinctively try to close.

  “I want you to use your mouth,” you begged, arching your back in a pitiful attempt to create some form of contact. Your shoulders pressed against the wall was the only thing keeping you upright.

  “Where?” he asked all too casually.

  Your breathing was still shaky at best, but you forced yourself to make eye contact with Aaron. He looked back at you expectantly, waiting patiently for your answer.

  You slowly raised your hand to point to your left breast, which so far had been woefully ignored. “Here,” you said hesitantly, not sure whether or not he was going to tease you. While Aaron always gave you what you asked for eventually, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make you beg for it first.

  To his credit, however, Aaron immediately bent down and attached his mouth to your nipple, his teeth gently scraping over the sensitive flesh. His eyes never left yours, he wanted to watch your reaction. 

  Feeling more confident, you cupped the sides of his face and pulled him off you, and the sound it made was obscene. “I want you to eat me out,” you whispered, blushing as you said it. “I want to feel myself cum on your face, please .”

  Aaron smirked as he slid down to his knees, kissing all the way down your stomach. “Good girl, you asked so nicely,” he mumbled against your skin and it sent shivers up your spine. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, giving him a perfect few of your pussy, slick with your arousal. “Look at you, dripping down your thighs before I’ve even started. Desperation is unbecoming on you, Y/N,” he mocked. He was using your words against you, and you didn’t even care. You just wanted him to do something, anything.

  Aaron ran a finger through your folds, ghosting over your clit. You hips bucked, desperate for more contact, but his finger was already gone. “Look at me,” he ordered, and as soon as you did, you were greeted with the image of Aaron admiring the wetness that was covering his finger. Then he stuck the finger in his mouth, smirking as he did, and you moaned out at the sight. “You taste so good, Y/N.”

  “Please, Aaron, I need you to- oh! ” you begged, but you were cut off by Aaron licking a strip up your center, still avoiding your clit.

  His hands came around and grabbed onto your ass as he got to work, lapping through your folds. You tangled your hands in his hair, rocking your hips against his mouth, craving more . His tongue teased at your clit, humming every once in a while in a way that sent vibrations throughout you. Without warning, he pushed two fingers into you curling them in just the right spot.

  As Aaron’s fingers pumped in and out of you, his lips focused solely on your clit. He flicked it once with his tongue before sucking, relishing in the way you moaned out his name. You tightened your grip in Aaron’s hair as your first orgasm hit you, your whole body shaking and a string of expletives leaving your mouth. But that didn’t stop Aaron.

  He added a third finger and replaced his mouth with his thumb on your clit. “You’re going to give me another one,” he practically growled. “And then I’m going to fuck you until you’re a whining mess. This is what you asked for isn’t it?”

  When you didn’t answer right away, he turned his head to the side and bit down on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, causing you to cry out. He sucked on that same spot for a little before dragging his tongue over the newly formed bruise.

  “Yes, I want that, Aaron,” you cried out. “I want you .”

  He reattached his lips to your folds with newfound vigor, making tight circles around your clit. His free hand snaked up your sides to your breast, pinching and twisting at your nipple. You continued to beg, although you weren’t sure what you were begging for exactly. All you knew was that you were so full of want , want for your second orgasm, and want for Aaron.

  Aaron fucked you with his fingers with ease, as if he had all the time in the world. You ground down on him again, chasing your orgasm the best you could. Your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure, but you needed more. You opened your eyes, only to be met with Aaron’s blown pupils, eyes full of desire. You could almost feel his smirk as he wrapped his lips around your clit and pulled .

  The heel of your foot dug into his back as you cried out, your second orgasm twice as intense as your first one. Aaron’s fingers kept pumping into you lazily, and even your panting couldn’t cover the filthy sounds it was making. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs.

  Aaron slowly removed his fingers from you and lightly swiped them over your clit once more as he stood up, which almost made you completely lose your balance, a sob tearing from your mouth.

  He held his glistening fingers in front of your mouth and you opened obediently, moaning as you tasted yourself on him. Your tongue swirled around his fingers, making sure to clean every trace of you off him.

  Aaron removed his fingers from your mouth. “Do you have one more in you?” he asked, and it was softer than you were used to. “It’s okay if you don’t. We have all weekend.”

  “I need your dick in me,” you said in lieu of an answer. “Please, please fuck me.”

  Aaron pulled you to his bed and you all but collapsed onto your back, your legs still shaking from your back to back orgasms. Aaron crawled on top of you, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, all the way from your stomach to your mouth.

  “You’re so beautiful when you come for me,” he whispered, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock. All of his movements were gentle, bordering on caring. “Yelling out my name so that everybody can hear that you’re mine .”

  He pressed into you slowly, his first few thrusts shallow, and you could see that it was taking all of his willpower to keep teasing you like this. You dragged your nails down his back, not caring if it left marks on him.

  “Aaron,” you whimpered, bucking your hips to try and get more movement. “Please fuck me. I need more.”

  Aaron was always good at giving you what you wanted.

  His hips snapped into you harshly, and you had to attach your lips to his shoulder to keep from screaming out. Aaron thrusted into you hard and fast, wanting to feel every inch of you. He stretched you in all the best ways and your back arched off the bed. You were holding on to Aaron like a lifeline, and all he could do was grunt out your name over and over, repeating it like a prayer. 

  Your third orgasm came fast, spreading through your body like a wildfire, and you could feel the tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the overstimulation. Aaron’s thrusts became more desperate and harsher as he felt you squeeze around him. He dropped his head to your shoulder, his breathing ragged and you could tell that he was so close-

  “Cum for me… Fill me up,” you purred into Aaron’s ear, and that’s all it took for him to finish, holding himself deep inside you as his warmth filled you. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, both trying to catch your breath. You brought your head up to kiss Aaron, slowly and deliberately and filled with… something . You couldn’t figure out what it was yet.

  Aaron pulled out of you slowly and flopped onto the bed next to you, but he reached over and held your hand. The two of you laid like that for several moments, giving yourselves time to come back down to reality. Finally, Aaron rolled on his side to check on you. You admired the flush on his body, especially as it rose to his cheeks and made him look like he was practically glowing.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your hand. “Can I do anything?” 

  You turned your head to smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze, before sitting up. Aaron was always so careful about aftercare, which you were immensely appreciative of. “Oh, I’m fine, I’m just going to go to the bathroom. A UTI might ruin the mood,” you joked.

  When you returned, Aaron was already in a pair of pajama pants and sitting in bed. He had also laid out one of his shirts for you, which caused your stomach to do flips. Despite the fact that you actually did pack pajamas, you chose to wear his shirt. You could feel his eyes watching your every movement as you made your way back into bed, leaning back against the headboard.

  Aaron placed an arm around your shoulders and you leaned into him, catching his lips in another kiss, this one soft and sensual. You placed your hand on his bare chest as the kiss deepened, and Aaron’s fingers ghosting over your skin sent shivers down your spine.

  “So,” you murmured against his lips. “What are your plans for me this weekend?” It was partially a joke, but you wanted to be as prepared as possible for just how sore you were going to be on Monday after an entire three days of being thoroughly wrecked by Aaron.

  Aaron’s lips curved up into a smile as he dropped a kiss on the top of your head, letting his lips linger for just a second too long. “Hm, we can play it by ear. Although, I was thinking Indian for dinner tomorrow night?”

  You were too old to get butterflies, but there was something so soft and so sincere in his reply that it made your stomach do flips. Aaron yawned, probably not even giving a second thought to his reply, and pulled you in closer to him. 

  “Yeah,” you conceded, closing your eyes. “Indian sounds good.” You could deal with the butterflies later.

Matthias Schoenaerts full interview for De Morgen Magazine (original in Flemish, translated into English by @matthiasschoenaertsdaily​)

Interview by Els Maes, published on November 28, 2020

Even a global pandemic will not destroy the optimism of actor Matthias Schoenaerts (42). Because he knows from his own experience how much beauty can emerge from the most hopeless situations. "I've had my back against the wall often enough, I'll always find a way out."

A bleak autumn day on a concrete square. There is lukewarm coffee, lukewarm Chimay and rolling tobacco. At dusk we see the silhouettes of fat rats that shoot past our ankles. And yet Matthias Schoenaerts will tell us in a glowing argument that this, here and now, is the very best place to be. That there is so much beauty to discover, he says. Le paradis c'est ici. As long as we want to see it.

"It's strange to say in this unpleasant period, but I've enjoyed the past few months enormously. It's the first time in ten years, since Runskop actually, that I'll be home for a long period of time. This is so beneficial: I am photographing, painting, writing. I can devote time and attention to the very simple things we'd otherwise race past."

"Seriously, look at that," he says, picking a leaf off the ground. "Those colors, that pattern. I can spend hours looking at the pure beauty of the things that surround us."

Above us a pigeon is wreaking havoc between the thinned out foliage. "While you are singing about the wonderful beauty of nature, that animal is going to shit on our heads," I say. "And that too will be a s-p-l-e-n-d-i-d moment," Schoenaerts answers.

Matthias Schoenaerts is Belgium's most successful international film star. But here and now, on a bench in his hometown, he is a technically unemployed actor, an all-round searching artist, but above all: fighter of cynicism. "I refuse to go along with all negativity and fear. The true battle today is cynicism versus courage. And I always choose the latter."

We're on the Oudevaartplaats, the square that everyone knows as the Antwerp Bird Market, and where Schoenaerts' childhood memories are waiting to be picked up. It comes into the conversation just like that: Brando, the cute chow chow that little Matthias got from his mom on this square, when here on the bird market puppies were still sold. "My dogs were my great loves. The home situation was often difficult, and with my dogs I found security. We had three chow chows, those fluffy lion dogs with a blue tongue. Brando was the first, I loved that animal."

"We lived in a small apartment with three dogs, anything but ideal. One day we let them go, to people with a large estate. That was heartbreaking."

There is a beautiful lesson in that, about love and letting go. It would have been selfish to keep your dogs if you could give them a nicer life elsewhere, wouldn't it?

"Absolutely, but I obviously didn't process that departure properly. Brando still appears in my dreams, after all these years. Then he returns home unexpectedly, and am I mad with joy.

"I often dream about my parents too: that reunion is so intensely beautiful and warm. Oh, there you are, finally! Those dreams are true to life, and the awakening is rock-hard."

Is that one of the reasons why you like being here in Antwerp, because here you feel more connected to the people that you loved?

"This is my home, my zero, I can't imagine a place in the world where I would rather live. When my mom was alive, and especially when she got sick, in between filming I tried to be with her as much as possible here in Antwerp. In the meantime I have an apartment here, my first permanent place of my own, but I've hardly been there in recent years. Now I can finally enjoy my home, I find peace, tranquility and inspiration there. I have seen fantastic sunsets on my roof terrace in recent months. So much beauty, and you can just admire it there, every day, for free. As long as you take the time to enjoy it.

"Normally I would have started filming again in April, and left for a hectic ride of at least two years, with projects that would follow each other quickly. I was at my limits, sooner or later I was going to bang my head against the wall. I feel how beneficial it is to slow down for a moment. David Lynch said that: 'Just slow things down and it becomes more beautiful'.

"As an actor you have to work in a big machine, according to a tight schedule. I have now discovered the pleasure of creating things for myself very spontaneously in my own cadence."

Is that work something you ever want to go public with?

"I want to do something with my photography someday, but I'm in no hurry. I'm also writing a film script, I've had an idea for a trilogy for a long time. It's a very personal project, and it takes time for it to crystallize into something very pure and proper. Maybe those films will come within ten years, maybe never.

"The most important thing is to keep busy. You have to look for something, anything, on which you can focus your passion, love and attention. Of course I would like to return to set, and those projects will come back later. But if I can't change anything about a situation, why worry about it?

"From a very young age I learned that there are not many certainties in life, I adapt easily to unexpected circumstances. There is one thing I can't stand, and that is feeling powerless. I never want to be the victim of a situation, I will always think: what can I do myself? Which way can I go? I have often enough stood with my back against the wall, I will always find a way out and take matters into my own hands."

So Schoenaerts decided to use this period to put Zenith - his artist name as a street artist - to hard work. Since the lockdown he has already created nine impressive murals, including one in the courtyard of the Oudenaarde prison, and one at the beginning of this month in the Antwerp Begijnenstraat, on the bare walls that form their furthest horizon for the prisoners. A moving event, he says. Not only by the touching conversations with inmates, and the forty-minute applause with which the prisoners welcomed him. "The mural contains a poem by my father. While I am there painting those beautiful words of my dad on the wall, I suddenly remember that my mom used to give meditation lessons to the prisoners there in the Begijnenstraat. I had completely forgotten about that until I stood there. How beautiful that is. Suddenly I felt my parents very tangible, very close to me."

It's a bit funny: a long time ago you were arrested for graffiti, now they invite you to prison to make a mural.

"I used to tag a lot, but I really don't like the vandalism that sometimes comes with graffiti. Defacing a facade, that's just ridiculous. But trains, bridges, tunnels.... frankly I think that's the max. Soon I'm going to do another oldskool graffiti wall, with some friends, back to the roots. But with permission, yes."

Scary dudes

The problems of the Belgian detention system are well known: outdated infrastructure, overcrowding and a system of pre-trial detention which means that some people are innocently stuck for years. Schoenaerts: "These are human lives that are destroyed by the Belgian state, isn't that scandalous?"

Schoenaerts' engagement started years ago, after meeting Hans Claus, prison director in Oudenaarde, who contacted him when he wanted to organize a screening of Le Fidèle, the film by Michaël R. Roskam starring Schoenaerts. Claus has been fighting for many years for a reform of our detention system, among others with the non-profit organization De Huizen, small-scale centers that are more focused on rehabilitation and reintegration of the detainee. How does Schoenaerts see his role? "Those murals are a kind of lubricant for me, to get attention for this problem. I am not the expert and I am certainly not a politician. This injustice touches me as a human being, and my message is clear: please listen to the people who have been working hard for decades to reform the system from the inside."

In The Mustang, your last feature film to be seen here before the lockdown, you take on the role of a prisoner who learns to tame wild horses and his demons. Has that role changed your vision?

"That rehabilitation program with mustangs really exists, and the chance of recidivism is almost zero percent. I had a conversation in the Begijnenstraat with the minister of Justice Vincent Van Quickenborne (Open Vld, ed.), and he told me that the chance of relapse here is 40 to 50 percent. Isn't that madness?

"That's what fascinates me most of all: what do we do with those detainees while they're stuck? How can we help to break the destructive patterns that put them in prison? Imprisonment is a punishment in itself, but someday we'll send those people back into society, so let's mainly support them in their self-development.

"In preparation for The Mustang, I visited prisons in the U.S., and talked to men who had been detained for 20, 30 years. Heavy guys: Aryan Brotherhood (powerful crime syndicate of neo-Nazis in American prisons, ed.), Mexican gang leaders... real scary dudes. You know what those say to me? That they live in fear every day, but they must not show weakness. Psychological counseling and things like that have their value, but that's often very cerebral. I especially believe in the healing power of art. Imagine that inmates can express all those fucked up emotions through art: I think that there is an enormous potential in this."

I heard you're playing with the idea of giving acting lessons to inmates?

"That's not a concrete plan yet, but I would love it if people from the creative sector would commit themselves to this: musicians, sculptors, dancers. Or writers who help prisoners put their own story into words.

"The cultural sector needs to start sticking its neck out. The sector is lying flat, and that's terrible. But we have to keep moving. We can all do something for the community, without being paid for it. Planting small seeds, doing something good for your fellow man, something beautiful always comes out of it."

Had you been to a prison before The Mustang?

"To visit friends, yes. In Merksplas, Hoogstraten, Hasselt, Dendermonde... We shouldn't talk about that any further. A prison is deep tristesse. Who dares to call that 'a hotel', shame on you."

This summer you painted an impressive mural in Paris in honor of George Floyd, murdered by American officers. And in Ostend last week a new mural was unveiled, with a 'decapitated' Leopold II. Is activism an important part of your street art?

"Graffiti used to be more of a style exercise for me, you want to create things that get noticed within the scene. But gradually I felt like communicating with a wider audience. I like to incorporate a lot of symbolism in my paintings, such as the cracks I photograph all over the world and then magnify them in another place. And the praying hands, a universal image of hope and faith in yourself. Art has the power to speak to our deepest emotions, and that is what binds us to the other. Connectedness, empathy, harmony, solidarity, that's the essence for me."

The corona crisis is one big exercise in empathy and solidarity. Sometimes we seem to lack that.

"I refuse to surrender to cynicism, and I surround myself with positive people who do beautiful things for others. This period would lead us to insights: how do we deal with each other? Do we help each other, or is it every man for himself? A human is such a wonderful creature, but we mess it up so much for ourselves.

"Yeah, I know. Some people who read this will think: this guy is smoking too many joints. (laughs) I don't smoke joints, and I'm not an unworldly idealist. But I will always focus my attention on the good, in spite of everything."

If you always want to see the good in people, are you sometimes disappointed?

"Yes, of course. I'm not a naive brat, I've learned to guard my boundaries. I can't please everyone all the time, and I don't let anyone rush me. I react badly when people put pressure on me because they want things from me. The perception of me that others have of me, I can't control. I don't let myself put out of balance easily anymore."

I saw that on your Instagram Stories you warned about fake profiles on social media, of people pretending to be you. That made you visibly angry.

"Really, that makes me angry. Every day I receive screenshots from people who have been tricked by crooks who approach innocent victims with my name and my pictures. There are stories of fans who have paid thousands of euros because they were promised a meet-and-greet with me. How disgusting is that? One person has transferred 14,000 euros to someone who pretended to be my manager.

"Of course, that raises questions about how gullible some people can be. But I've seen those chat conversations for myself: those criminals are terribly sneaky. They know how to play on the vulnerabilities of their victims in a very cunning way. This is manipulation and swindle of the filthiest kind.

"Really, I get physically unwell when I think about it. How can someone be so mean? If I ever catch these guys, I'm gonna bash their skulls in, I'm not kidding. Sorry."

Or: those crooks get a jail sentence, where you're going to give them acting lessons.

(laughs) "Okay, let it be clear that I think everyone should be punished for their crimes. My commitment to the prison system is not a plea for impunity, and I certainly don't want to romanticize crime.

"But when someone abuses innocent people's trust in such a cunning way, the question is: how did you derail so morally? And above all: how can we initiate a transformation in that person? Surely you can't lock someone up and expect that person to suddenly make better choices years later? First such a person has to take responsibility for his own actions."

Do you have something criminal on your conscience?

"No." (Thinks for a second) "No. Thank God. I couldn't live with that.

"I've probably hurt people in my life, like everybody else. Sometimes we just hurt people because of who we are, or because we can't fulfill what others want from us. But I have never harmed anyone consciously or criminally, no."

As a teenager you sometimes came into contact with the juvenile court, for vandalism. Do you think you could have ended up on the other side of the bars?

"Probably, a life can take strange turns sometimes."

What made you sit here today, and not get on the 'wrong' path?

"Wait... that's a good question. There's the one terrible dramatic event that caused a total turnaround in my life: when my dad went into a coma after a psychosis, and I was told he only had 24 hours left to live.

"I was 21 then, thrown out of school for the umpteenth time. I was doing graffiti and wanted to find my way creatively. But I was messing around, going with friends who... Anyway, there was latent danger, it threatened to go a little bit the wrong way.

"And then I got that phone call: come and say goodbye. Bam. The relationship with my father had been sour for years, we hardly saw each other. Until I stood there at his deathbed in intensive care... I only felt love, a wave of emotions that I had pushed down very deeply. That realization was rock-hard: this was it. My father and I will never get the chance to figure shit out, I thought.

"Long story, the rest is known: after 72 hours my father woke up from a coma against all odds. Like a plant: he could not speak, reacted to nothing or nobody. According to the chief psychiatrist, we had to accept that his condition would never improve. That was without the fighting spirit of my mother and me.

"It's because of that unlikely event that I've changed my whole lifestyle. For eight months, my mother and I went to visit my father every day. We talked to him, but he seemed to look straight through us. For hours we sat with him at the psychiatry department of Stuivenberg, how desperate those first months were also. We continued to fight, taught him to talk, to eat, to walk. A miracle, the doctors called it. Bullshit of course. It was love, dedication and stubbornness. Especially thanks to my mother, the lioness who kept fighting for him. And see how much beauty came out of it. My life then received an entirely different impulse.

"I suddenly think of an anecdote I've never told before. After a while we were allowed to take my father to the cafeteria once in a while, or to the garden. But he was absolutely not allowed to leave the hospital. Fuck it. I hid a bag of clothes for him, secretly dressed him in the toilet and took my father to the city. By bus, because I didn't have a driver's license. I wanted to stimulate his senses, test if any memories would come back. He was fond of Our Lady's Cathedral, so that's where I wanted to take him."

Matthiaske, why am I crying?

He plays it out. The written version here is only a dead script compared to the lived-through performance, right there on that dark square, just around the corner of the Arenbergschouwburg, where Matthias made his stage debut as a 9-year-old boy next to father Julien, as The Little Prince.

Matthias shows how he supported his frail dad, and how they shuffled in small, careful steps towards the cathedral. Dad looking at the ground to be sure not to fall. "I say, 'Dad, look up'. He looks up, and I see the tears rolling down his cheeks. I had never seen my father cry. 'Matthiaske,' he says, 'can you tell me why I'm crying?'

"I had already decided then that I would take my father into my house. Overconfident, yes, at that age, but they have become the most beautiful years of my life. Mom came by every day to help. Suddenly we were a bit of a family again, something we had only been for a short time when I was young."

It was at that time that you decided to become an actor. Why did you decide to become an actor?

"I had always resisted following in my father's footsteps. In my youth I mainly wanted to break away from my father, and seek my own path. I didn't want to have anything to do with him and all those loudmouths around him in the theater world. But most of all I was terrified that compared to the great Julien Schoenaerts I would never be good enough.

"Only now do I understand why I then decided to go to the conservatory. Not to become an actor, but to understand my father. We had so many years together, and now that we had been given a second chance, I wanted to get to know him as well as possible. By acting, maybe I could get closer to him." (pauses)

Sentimental fuss

He banishes the tears. It's one of the many things he has in common with his father, he says: they're both very emotional, but they hate sentimental fuss. "Come on, Matthias: breathe," he commands himself.

"Voilà, see how much beauty can come out of misery. What a chain of beautiful things came out of the fight my mother and I put up in the most hopeless situation. Who knows how differently my life would have turned out?"

"There are so many lessons in that. If we just talked about the rehabilitation of detainees, for example. It takes commitment. Not a workshop of two hours. You have to persevere, even in the event of a setback, with no guarantee of a happy ending. That's why I think it's so important to keep telling that story about my dad. Those are the values I believe in: dedication, stamina, attention, love. You can apply that to everything in life. Love is the fuel."

You often talk about your parents as if you want to keep them alive with your words.

"Because my mom and dad are the people I've loved most. With them I shared the most important moments, built the most beautiful memories. That loss is enormous. Life has been really fucking tough since they've been gone.

"That's what grabs me so much in this period. How many people have died of corona in Belgium?"

According to Google, today, on the day of the interview, the counter stands at almost 14,000 deaths.

"Fourteen thousand! Imagine how many people that has an impact on? How many people have suddenly lost their mother, father, brother, sister, best friend or neighbor? Behind those figures lie tens of thousands of poignant stories, of people who see a loved one torn from their lives. That is a mountain of unresolved grief, and far too little attention is paid to it."

Earlier during our conversation a guy had walked past coughing and maskless. It pissed Schoenaerts off: "And whining about masks or strict measures. Grow some fucking balls. Having to say goodbye to a loved one, that's the worst thing."

"Isn't that what this period teaches us? That our time here is limited? And what really counts in life: sharing moments of beauty with the people you hold most dear. All the rest is wallpaper. Having success, making movies, that's all fun. But the day you lie on your deathbed, you really don't think about the professional successes on your resume. No way."

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 13 "The Final Girl(s)"

"It was a plan 20 years in the making. And it worked."

"Now, this is a hammer. Hammers are good for bashing people in the skull and watching them bleed to death, okay?"

"Easily cuts through muscle and bone, and has the added advantage of making sure your victim's final emotion is terror."

"I needed a persona to hide behind while we murdered people and stuff."

'As for me, what I've noticed is that the more weird and gross you are, the less people want to know about you. No one asks the kid with terrible acne what their favorite movie is or where they were born."

"My butt could launch a thousand ships."

"All killers have a cool costume; Jason with his hockey mask, Freddy Krueger's sweater and hat, Cujo's totally realistic dog costume."

"Unisex, kind of satanic. But not, like, a giant goat head satanic."

"I think he's dead."

"Stabbing can be pretty dramatic."

"Wait, we're spraying acid on the furniture?"

"Obvi, I was the brains of the operation."

"Your high school transcripts are clearly faked. And I'm guessing you made up your SAT scores, 'cause it's not possible to get one million percent on them."

"I've got a bedazzler back in my room."

"I hope you guys aren't freaked out by my appearance. Or lack of social skills and money."

"Come on. Let's go mingle, babies."

"I've always said that being nice is a really good quality. It could save your life one day."

"Order is restored, as they say. More than restored--reborn."

"I mean, someone had to take all the blame."

"Can we save the shoe?"

"Also, it helps to be completely frickin' insane."

"Because for a plan like this to work, you have to be willing to totally commit."

"I mean, desperate times call for desperate measures."

"This was the price I had to pay if I wanted to get away with murder and pin it all on someone else."

"Because some people don't deserve to just get murdered. They need to be truly punished."

"I didn't do it, I swear!"

"I'm one of the good guys!"

"You bite your own toenails."

"Okay, I am flexible."

"When I fart, I cup it in my hand and smell it."

"Dear god, shut up!"

"Oh, I see where this is going. You're gonna try and pin all of these murders on me so I spend the rest of my life in prison."

"The doctors were able to save my eyeball, and they said that I'm gonna make a full recovery."

"You're the killer!"

"Your entire life story is totally fabricated."

"She definitely was not adopted."

"Wait, I do know! I know where I know you from. You're from that prostate commercial."

"We took her in out of the kindness of our hearts. And also for the tax deduction."

"As soon as she learned to talk, I wanted to disown her."

"Our daughter sucks."

"But, sweetie, you're toxic, and you're bumming us out, so it's time for you to go."

"You can't arrest me-- don't you need, like, a warrant or something from a judge?"

"Wait, you think I'm the killer?"

"Well, just saying you saw something isn't evidence."

"Uh, if you're gonna just continue to accuse everyone, could we at least sit down?"

"I don't have a diners club card! Is diners club still even a thing?"

"I didn't know the oil was boiling!"

"What is your game here?"

"I mean, I am a pillar of this community."

"What better way for you to knock off everyone that you hate, because they're different from you or not as popular or not as pretty, than to murder them one by one?!"

"This is what I like to call first-class entertainment."

"You'll never take me alive!"

"Are these strippers?"

"I just don't understand how you just end it."

"I don't have a choice is what I'm telling you."

"Don't let it end like this."

"It was never gonna work out between us."

"We got too close to the sun, baby. We shined too bright."

"I promise I will never bang anyone the way I banged you."

"What do you mean, "what charity"? Just charity. All proceeds will go to charity."

"My friends are dead! I have nothing left!"

"I wrote up a quick book and became a media sensation."

"Women are better."

"If you think about all of human history, add up the wars and the genocide, all the oppression, the violence, the exploitation, the degradation of the human spirit, what do all those things have in common? Dudes. They have dudes in common, right?"

"It's true, a lot of people had to die to make that happen, but I often catch myself thinking, "you know what? Maybe it was worth it."

"But I suppose money still talks."

"We're gonna make cookies and brownies, and eat them while we talk about our feelings."

"At least some good came out of all of that evil."

"These kids were martyrs for a much bigger cause."

"It's not my fault that all of that happened to me."

"Maybe if I would've had a real dad, my brother wouldn't have turned into such a douche."

"They're dead. And that is your fault."

"I didn't kill any of these kids."

"Are you getting me a car?"

"I think you need your space."

"I was under the impression that I had the inalienable right to a jury of my peers. Look at these hippos. These are not my peers."

"This is a kangaroo court."

"You can't ignore the verdict."

"My dad is super gross rich. Like, disgusting rich. He'll have me out of prison in no time."

"You're going to an asylum."

"You're rude, entitled, narcissistic, racist and insane."

"Your entire defense consisted of you screaming at the jury that you didn't kill anybody and then threatening to kill them if they found you guilty."

"I think I'm ready to show you my ears."

"I love it here! I never want to leave!"

You own (my) a heart

Written for Day 3 of JonEliasWeek Prompts: Entity swap & “We have a problem" Descriptions of Violence Jon needed to get rid of his rather clingy ex, Simon gives him the contact details of his favourite problem solver Read on AO3 here In one reality. Jonah Magnus leant into his love of knowledge, of watching those around him and knowing their deepest secrets. In another he made another, more violent, choice.

Who needs to control people through knowing things about them, when you could break all of their fingers and achieve a very similar outcome. All it took was yet another party with yet another group of rich rats laughing and making snide comments about him, an anger that almost scared him bubbling up until he took a cake knife to the throat of one of them. They fell quickly and he panted, satisfied over their cooling bodies. It wasn’t regret that filled him once the bloodlust faded, closer to irritation, a mild fear perhaps. He couldn’t kill everyone in the room, even if he had wanted to, far too many of the guests had fled the hall that the party was located in. He had ruined his own life. “It was worth it” a voice whispered in his head like music. Another idle thought led him to carve out the man’s heart and replace it with his own. A messy, frantic business that he barely managed to do before the lack of blood flow killed him. At least he wouldn’t get put in one of those awful prisons, he thought in his last moments.

And then he woke up. A new body, a new life, an old, scarred heart.

A man willing to kill anyone put in front of him and able to never be caught was a valuable ally indeed. A laughing Italian artist and an irritable merchant-sailor who had stayed while the rest of the sheep fled the party made fine allies, even if Jonah would never call them friends. One taken by the fear of heights and the other so deeply entrenched in his own loneliness that Jonah was surprised the man could even bring himself to introduce himself to him.

Centuries passed. Bodies of his victims taken and shed like ill-fitting suits. He would find bodies that he quite liked occasionally, and would do his best to keep them, but all would eventually fall to the curse of old age. Elias had been such a body, he had stayed in that one for almost 20 years by the time he met the youngest Fairchild.

Jonathan couldn’t remember the first time he met Simon, he had been very young when his mother had died and even younger when she had started to spend more time with the Fairchilds, taking her young son with her, in an act even the other Fairchild’s thought was fairly irresponsible.

Even when his mother has passed away, damn the Corruption, Simon still came and visited him at his grandmother’s. Not often of course, but at least once every year or so. There were two main reasons for this.

First, Simon Fairchild was 500 years old and hated being bored. It turns out after so many centuries, quite a few things started to become boring.

Second. Children love getting thrown around. Simon didn’t particularly know why kids were born with a complete lack of fear for his Patron, but it was entertaining to just throw the various Fairchild children around. And as he grew older, Jonathan never seemed to get tired of it or grow scared as other children did. So Simon just kept coming back.

Jon had always been a quiet child, had always been the one bullied rather than the one doing the bullying. Despite Simon’s encouragement, he would never be the sort of child to go pushing the other children off of things, to watch them shriek as they fell. He was the sort of child, however, who would happily look up at the stars for hours and hours, long after he should have been asleep. Simon would join him sometimes, he preferred the endless blue of the day, but he could still appreciate the true eternity of space. He told Jon of his plans for a Space Station, the Daedelus, and that he was looking for someone to send up there, and then had to fend off the enthusiastic pleas to send Jon up there. He only managed to calm the young boy down with the assurance that he needed someone who would be scared of the Vastness of space, not someone who would have “Far too much fun up there”. Anyway, it was going to take quite a while to set up everything, Jon might not be interested in space by then, he teased.

Jon could remember the first person he sent into the Vast in perfect detail, even years later. Bullies had started to leave him alone, not because he wasn’t a target, but because it was hard to do anything to a kid who could climb up onto the roofs of school buildings to escape them. He was about fifteen, walking home from school, when one of the school yard bullies caught sight of him (on solid ground for once) and couldn’t help but race after the younger boy, tackling him to the ground. He looked at the younger teen’s face, expecting tears. Jon had always had dark brown eyes, but to this young bully he was sure that they were fully black, like the pupil had expanded so far as to replace his iris. And in those deep, dark eyes were the twinkling of lights, like the stars in the sky. The world went dark around him, Jon vanished from beneath him and he was suspended in space, surrounded by stars that never seemed to end. No sign of the sky or the ground. Before he began to fall.

And fall.

And fall.

No one ever found the young bully’s body and Jon would never tell, but when Simon came knocking a few days later, he couldn’t help the proud grin on his face when the missing teenager was mentioned.

That bully might have been the first but he was nowhere close to the last. Various bullies and cruel teachers vanished from his school in the time he was there, a habit which continued into University. When his grandmother died, SImon was there with a hand on his shoulder and an invitation to join the Fairchilds that was eagerly accepted. He hadn’t finished University by the time the Daedelus rocket was set off, something he would complain about every time he saw Simon, well into his mid-20’s.

Jon was at home, a rather nice apartment that Simon paid for him, when there was a knock at his door, a glance at who was there and Jon groaned. He’d had fun at University, had dated around a bit before he met Georgie and their almost inevitable break-up and he hadn’t bothered since then. Most of his ex’s were either still friendly or he had sent them into the Vast. An efficient way to get rid of asshole exes, except for one. Jack was an adrenaline Junkie, he loved heights, did not get vertigo and most definitely was not weirded out by the mini planetarium Jon had set up in the unused bedroom of the house he stayed in at University. Jack was harder to get rid of, as proved by the fact that he was knocking at Jon’s door. His normal methods didn’t work on the man and he didn’t want to admit to Simon that he was afraid of a random man, unaffiliated with any of the Powers. Not that it stopped Simon from knowing. Three days into Jon’s self-imposed isolation to avoid the man who was camping outside his doorway, a business card was left on the window sill of an open window.

Elias Bouchard

Problem Solver

And then a number and email.

Unlike Jon, Jack needed to eat and eventually he left, leaving Jon enough time to leave his apartment and flee to one of the spacious Fairchild residences. He called the number on the card, he quite liked his apartment and would like to go back without an ex, who kicked a cat on their way home from the pub once, lurking outside his house.

The voice and the other end was charming, assuring him that Jack would be gone and that there would be no link to himself. He also laughed at Jon’s awkward jokes and stated that he “couldn’t wait to meet him” though he qualified that as that he was excited to meet another friend of Simon’s, but the three second hesitation before he said that was enough to make Jon flush.

Jon honestly forgot about the whole deal until two weeks later. He was still staying in the Fairchild house about an hour away from his apartment, when a sharp knock came from the door. One of his “cousins” went to get the door but came back saying that it was for Jon, one of Simon’s friends.

The man at the door was nothing like what Jon had expected. Well dressed and calm, Bouchard shifted a package so that he could shake Jon’s hand. He handed over the package, and watched as Jon peeled away the paper. Inside lay a still bloody heart.

“As you can see. I dealt with your problem Jonathan.”

“Um, Jon is fine.” he couldn’t stop looking at the heart, dripping blood on the stone steps that lead up to the door. The other man smiled widely.

“Then you must call me Elias.”

Jon just nodded, still morbidly distracted.

“Simon will pay you if that’s your sort of thing.”

“Hmm, normally yes, but for you I will waive the charge. Though I would happily accept payment in the form of a date if you are agreeable?”

Jon looked away from the heart, back to the rather handsome man on his doorstep. He watched as the man’s smile dropped slightly as he stepped back inside. Jon placed the heart down on the side table next to the door, someone else could deal with that he thought, and grabbed his jacket. By the time he stepped back out the front door, shutting it behind him, Elias was fiddling with a knife and looked up at him, surprised.

“Well… Are you busy?”

The knife slipped back up into Elias’s sleeve and the grin came back to his face.

“For you? Never”

Simon Keyes and Dahlia Hawthorne: an Analysis

Spoilers for aai2 and aa3 under the cut. Also it’s... really long (Special thanks to my editor for keeping me coherent ish!).

Dahlia Hawthorne and Simon Keyes have a lot more in common than just red hair and a penchant for pink. From their family situations, to their motives and fears, and even to the very few people they ever trusted, their story lines run very similar. In the end, while they are both murderers, they are also victims of a broken justice system and poor family lives. Miles Edgeworth even acknowledges that Keyes is also a victim at the end of Keyes' case.

I am putting one more warning here, just in case. This analysis contains heavy spoilers, and I don’t intend to beat around the bush or hint. I will be saying the spoilers straight out. Any trigger warnings related to aai2 or aa3 should be applied as well.

Dahlia Hawthorne’s relationship with her mother is one made purely of use, with no affection on either side. When Dahlia is reunited with her mother before her execution, her mother convinces her to participate in one more murder plot. This is her first time talking to her mother since she was young. It’s clear that her mother doesn’t care about her, as she shows no sympathy for her estranged daughter, only using her to help Pearl Fey. Even Morgan’s love of Pearl is conditional and fake: she only loves Pearl for her spiritual powers. It only stands to reason that she didn’t care for Dahlia or Iris at all. While this is extrapolation, it didn’t seem like she cared much when her husband took her children away from her. She even could have brought Iris back home after she was left at Hazakura temple, yet as far as we know, she never even tried. While Dahlia agrees to the murder plot in prison in order to get revenge on Mia Fey, it can also be argued that it’s a last ditch effort to gain her mother’s approval: if she succeeds in the murder plot, though she will already be dead, she can let her spirit move on knowing that her mother has slightly more respect for her.

Keyes' relationship to his father is similar: though he believes his father left him because he died, in reality, his father simply didn’t care enough about him to find him. His mother, who is never mentioned, is presumably out of the picture. His whole life, he believes not that it was his father who was a murderer, but that Knightley’s father had killed his, and therefore, the way to get revenge was through Knightley. However, whether his father had been the victim or the murderer, does not change the fact that he was left alone in the care of Patricia Roland, who proceeded to mistreat or even abuse him. His father, albeit unknowingly, even managed to poison the one successful relationship he did have: his friendship with Knightley.

Keyes whole backstory revolves around revenge on Knightley, who betrayed him when they were children, and revenge on Roland, Debeste, and the body double, who all wanted him dead (and in Roland’s case, was so horrible to him that he ran away from the orphanage, though we’re not told exactly what happened.) Even if he’d managed to forgive Knightley for what had happened as children, Knightley still worked for one of the people trying to kill him: the body double. Of course, it also has to do with his father, but I’ll get to that later.

Dahlia’s story begins when her father takes her and her sister and leaves their mother. Here, she convinces her father to drop Iris off at a temple, though it’s shown they still keep in touch. The best guess I can make as to why she did this is that she did, in fact, care for Iris, however thought caring was a weakness and so sought to get rid of her. The same can be argued (and I have seen it argued) for Knightley and Keyes: Keyes had Knightley removed (though much later in their lives and to a more extreme degree than Iris and Dahlia) because despite his resentment of his best friend, he still had affection for him.

Dahlia and Keyes did trust Iris and Knightley up until a certain point. Dahlia had originally involved Iris in her kidnapping plot, however, Iris backed out at the last minute. Dahlia seems to have forgiven her for that, enough to let Iris convince her to let her be the one to try and get the evidence back from Phoenix. Iris proceeds to betray Dahlia even more: she falls in love with Phoenix for real, vowing to protect him, as well as failing to regain the evidence. This is when Dahlia throws Iris away for real: while before, she’d always let her affection for her sister get in the way of leaving her behind completely, she now has no such excuse. If even Iris turns against her, Dahlia truly has no one on her side, causing her to become even more afraid and angry, as she sets in motion her plot to kill Phoenix. Not only is she getting desperate for the evidence back, but this way she also gets revenge on her sister and her betrayal, as her sister was the one person she thought to always be in her corner.

Keyes sense of betrayal comes much earlier in his life. Right from some of his earliest memories, his friend had kidnapped him and nearly gotten him killed for the sake of his father. Keyes never had a chance to work through this grudge, instead internalizing it. Yet, Knightley was still his only friend, and therefore by default, his most trusted one. After spending all those years by each other's sides, it’s unlikely Keyes didn’t feel some sort of camaraderie with him. By killing Knightley, Keyes was not only removing the person who betrayed him, but also his weakness: the one person he truly cared about. Like Dahlia, he saw emotion and love as a weakness, something to use and get rid of once it had served its purpose. Yet in the end, he cared more about Knightley’s betrayal than any friendship.

At 14, Dahlia enters a relationship with a 20 year old, Terry Fawles. Dahlia is a child, entering a relationship with a fully grown adult. While she didn’t know better, there’s no way he didn’t. No matter how you look at it here, there is an element of grooming and coercion that was not touched on, as she was drawn into a relationship with a 20 year old. Not to mention, he was her tutor, adding even more of a power imbalance than there already was. This also makes her motivations for the staged kidnapping that much more interesting. Her sister, Valerie, was a police woman, also an adult, and, as we know she was involved in the fake kidnapping, she must have been aware of the relationship between her sister and Fawles. If anyone had been in a position to stop this relationship, it would have been her. She was an adult, the sister of Dahlia Hawthorne, AND a police officer, whose jobs are supposed to be stopping things like this. However, she didn’t. This probably instilled a distrust of the justice system in Dahlia, just as Simon Keyes had a distrust of the justice system based on how one of the people looking to kill him was a high ranking official.

Here, we get to Dahlia’s motivations for the kidnapping: not only does she get to have half a million dollars if this goes well, but once she and Valerie betray Fawles, he will be sentenced to life in prison, and unable to harm her anymore.

This is similar to a lot of Keyes’ plots, though he doesn’t tend to use framing. Instead, Keyes simply manipulates people into killing each other for him, getting them out of his way. He manipulates Roland into killing Knightley, getting Roland away from him so that she cannot chase and hurt him any longer.

Dahlia fakes her death and for five years, she is safe. Then, she finds out that Valerie intends to give away the secret to the kidnapping. This is dangerous for Dahlia: if people found out that Fawles had not killed or even kidnapped anyone, his sentence could be greatly reduced or he could even be set free. Then, not only could Fawles be free, but he would know that she’s alive.

This most likely caused her a great deal of worry. Now, we never find out whether her first murder was premeditated or not. In either case, Dahlia likely panicked at the thought of her secret getting out. The only difference is whether this panic caused her to prepare in advance, or if she intended to plead or bargain with her sister, only to stab her in the end when that didn’t work.

This is Dahlia’s first direct murder. However, Fawles later dies at his trial, drinking a bottle of poison that she had given him at age 14. This had likely been her backup plan to the kidnapping, if somehow she had been found out, he would have drank the poison. He only intended to drink it if he thought he couldn’t trust her anymore, which he wouldn’t have if he discovered the betrayal.

You may now by wondering why she panicked and killed Valerie, then. Two reasons: first, this backup plan had a high likelihood of indicting her as a possible suspect. It was a very last resort. The second reason is that if she hadn’t killed Valerie, Valerie would have exposed that they had stolen the diamond. This would mean that Dahlia herself would have gone to prison, a place she understandably didn’t want to go, and it would have opened questions regarding the current whereabouts of the diamond.

I don’t believe Dahlia was lying, on the stand, when she stated that the reason she hadn’t revealed her true identity as Dahlia Hawthorne was because she was afraid of Fawles. It wasn’t the whole truth, not was it a whole lie.

Even after getting away with this trial, Dahlia cannot escape. She is interrogated by Diego Armando, and likely feeling threatened, poisons him. She then gives the evidence to Phoenix Wright, to hide her involvement. This is when Iris enters the scene.

Iris is very much to Dahlia what Knightley is to Keyes. Iris and Knightley were maybe the only people who cared about Dahlia and Simon. They were willing to do almost anything to keep them safe and help them. In a way, Dahlia and Simon were the only people they had to rely on. (Iris also had Sister Bikini, but Dahlia didn’t have anyone else, and Iris felt a sense of obligation about that.) While Dahlia and Keyes also cared for them on some level, in the end, they were more useful to manipulate and use than truly care for.

I have seen some head canons and theories that as Knightley was being interrogated by Roland, he must have realized that Simon had set him up. These theories continue that he could have then ratted Simon out to Roland, but he didn’t, instead letting himself die out of loyalty to the person who set him up. After all, that person was his childhood friend, and Knightley at least cared for Keyes. In that case, he’s even more similar to Iris, who tried to protect Dahlia even to the end despite her knowledge of Dahlia’s crimes and the fact that Dahlia was the one who convinced their father to leave her behind.

In the end, Dahlia Hawthorne and Simon Keyes lived in much the same way: for themselves, and by themselves. They simply couldn’t understand that even if they had been wronged before, there were still people waiting to take their sides. All they could focus on was the things said people had done to hurt them, and not the multitude of other ways these people had tried to help them. That was their final downfall.

If you made it this far, wow! I appreciate your dedication, and thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed.

The Stars In Your Eyes

Part 2: Chapter 1 Part 2: Chapter 2 Part 2: Chapter 3 Part 2: Chapter 4 Part 2: Chapter 5 Part 2: Chapter 6

Master-list

A/N: Thank you to everyone who comments, votes, and re-blogs! Ask to be added to the taglist.

3/1/2017

“You think Reid should have taken the plea deal?” Alves asked as you entered the office that morning. The group of them were standing around Reid’s desk. 

“Absolutely not,” JJ shook her head. 

“Now that it’s off the table,” you interrupted, “he’s looking at 25 years to life.”

JJ furrowed her brow, “so you think he should have?”

“Of course not,” it was a little offensive that she thought you wanted your husband incarcerated for 10 years. “I’m just saying that 25 years is a long time.”

“And as we know, juries are fickle,” Tara added.

“I still can’t believe that the judge denied bail,” Walker sighed.

“Did you guys see the look on his face when they dragged him out of that courtroom?” JJ was looking at the ceiling.

You did see his face and trying to remember it made you sick. Well, it was that or the pregnancy. The morning sickness was kicking your ass. “Excuse me,” you said as you covered your mouth and made your way to the bathroom. JJ knew what was happening and followed you out.

You got on your knees and start to throw up in the toilet. JJ busted in and held your hair back.

“Morning sickness?” she asked. You tried your best to nod, but it was difficult. JJ helped you clean up and the two of you made your way back to the bullpen. The rest of the team had moved into the conference room, so you went and joined them. 

The meeting was about people in Philadelphia being sprayed in the face with acid. You gave you two cents and got ready to go to the airfield.

“Y/N,” Emily called from behind you, “can I speak to you for a moment?”

You nodded and made your way into her office, closing the door behind you, “what’s up?” you said while sitting down in the chair across from her.

“I want you to stay in Quantico for the next few cases,” she gave you a look of sympathy. “With everything happening to Reid and your pregnancy, I want to make sure that you are here, for him and for your baby.”

“I understand,” you nod. It wasn’t your first choice to stay behind, but it was for the best. 

“Also, Reid was transferred from the police precinct to the Milburn correctional facility, which means you may not be able to see him for a while,” she sighed.

You quietly stood from your seat and left the room. The rest of the team was getting ready to leave for the airfield, so you made your way to Garcia’s office.

“Garcia,” you said in a sing-songy voice, “we are going to be spending a lot of time together.” You grabbed a chair from her table and brought it next to her at her desk. 

“You weren’t there when I showed the rest of the team, but I made a chart with the visitation schedule for Reid,” she had a giant smile on her face as she pulled out an insanely colorful poster board.

“Why do you get to go first?” you pointed to her name written in orange marker at the top of the board.

She lowered the poster and gave you a frown, “because I made the chart.”

“Ok,” you giggled.

The rest of the case went off without a hitch. The team was home the next day. Penelope had you write a letter to Spencer. She had gone to get Emily’s letter and came back squealing. She told you that you could go see Reid in prison now you just had to make an appointment first. The next available time was in a week.

3/8/2017

You were sitting in the cold, beige room waiting for Spencer. You watched as a tall black man entered the room and was followed by a group of prisoners, one of whom was Reid. You watched as he b-lined for you. You tried to give him a hug but you were yelled at by one of the guards.

“Is everything ok, it’s not my mom is it?” he asked as the two of you sat down.

“No, she’s fine. She asked where you were,” you smiled. “Cassie said she was having a really good day.”

“Where did you say I was?” he had a small grin on his face.

You chuckled at the answer to his question, “the beach, she asked if that’s where you were. It seemed to make her happy.”

“Good,” the smile on his face grew making your smile much wider. “How’s the baby?”

“Good,” it worried you that he was worried about you. “That reminds me,” you pulled a small black and white photo from your pocket and handed it to him, “I got a sonogram.”

He pointed to the picture and smiled, “this is our baby?” you nodded and watched as he tried to choke back tears.

“How are you doing?” you asked when he looked up from the picture.

“I’m ok,” his voice was breaking as he talked to you. “I’m really happy to see you. I kind of wish you hadn’t come, it’s not a good idea.” He was looking around the room as if someone was going to attack you.

“Sorry,” you smirked, “you’re stuck with me. Garcia has us on shifts and she took first dibs, but they needed her in the office for a case. I was the lucky one.”

Spencer’s eyes became wider, “A case? Y/N, you should not be here.”

“The last time I saw you, you were being dragged out in handcuffs,” you sighed, “I have every right to be here.”

“What’s the case?”

Why does he care about what the case is, “what?”

“The case. I’m assuming you stayed behind,” he seemed to be stuttering. “Unless it’s local, is it local?”

“No. New York,” you giggled a little bit. “Do you really want to hear this?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’d love to have something to think about.”

“Ok, last night they found the latest victim, which is the third in the last six weeks,” you started. “He dumps them in alleys. They’re all female, in their 20’s, Equal opportunity, he crosses race lines. Oh, and the media is having a field day. They’re calling him the bone crusher.” The to of you sat and discussed more details about the case for about half an hour. Reid stopped talking when he hears a few of the inmates talking about you. You could see it getting to him.

“It’s ok,” you smiled. “It’s not my first time in a prison. I can handle it.”

“Sorry,” his voice became very quiet. “I don’t want them looking at you.”

“I don’t either,” you smiled, “but if that’s what it costs to come and see you, I’ll be fine.” The smile of his face warmed your heart. You were trying your best to keep him comfortable but you didn’t know what was going through his head.

“Did you guys get my full panel tox screen results yet?” he straightened his back.

“We did,” you looked down at your hands and sighed. “They were negative for scopolamine.”

“How are we going to prove scratch is behind this?” his voice became higher pitched and he was talking a lot faster. You knew he was stressed out and this wasn’t helping.

“We’ll find another way,” if you could keep your voice calm, he might calm down. “It was really late when they took that blood test, you may have metabolized everything.”

“He’s gonna get away with it,” he whispered.

“Spence, please don’t do this,” you leaned closer to him. “If you give up, we have less to work with. We will get you through this.

“Thank you,” his voice cracked when he spoke. You knew he wanted to cry.

“Visiting hours are over,” one of the guards called.

“I’ll be back soon,” you shouted as he walked out of the room. You made your way back to the office and helped the team finish the case.

Taglist:

@la-vie-en-amour1 @vixengustin88

Nebula and Tony spent at least 22 days in space... of which we got to see only about 1 (heartwarming) minute. So I tried to doddle Nebula’s captain log, with various degrees of details, care and success... Since I can’t really write but manage to draw ok enough to convey what I want in quick doodles, I settled on a sort of comics-strip-with-longer-description format.

FYI, Nebula does record a captain log: the very long, detailed description of the main event of each day is actually written under each picture. Each entry just describes the main occupation of the day mind you. I mean, they probably played paper football everyday from when Nebula learnt to the day the lights went out.

Summary right below, and bit more details (with my limited English, it’s all over the place but I did my best to add fun complements to the doodles) about each day in the individual posts linked at the end.

Day 1: Nebula and Tony fly away from Titan aboard the Benatar ASAP. Destination: Terra (C53) aka Earth.

Day 2: Nebula finds Tony passed out, victim of an infection from his wound. She decides to try and save his life.

Day 3: Nebula installs Tony in Peter’s and finds a picture of Gamora. She keeps it with her.

Day 4: Tony gets better and insists Nebula listens to some good Earth music. Tony likes Quill’s playlist, Nebula is a bit more skeptical.

Day 5: Tony asks Nebula about Gamora, whose picture she put on a shelf in the living quarter. He talks to her about his own brother, Rhodey.

Day 6: Engines come to a stop. They spend the whole day repairing the propulsion systems. All the efforts just buy 2 days worth of flight time.

Day 7: Nebula asks for a demonstration of the nanotech armor. She’s impressed. Tony promises to give her a small case implant when they reach Earth. At the end of the day, the engines shut down.

Day 8: Nebula stands by Tony as he watches a video of Peter that the suit recorded when he came to help in NYC.

Day 9: To keep their brain -‘biological or otherwise’- busy, Tony and Nebula play games.

Day 10: After she learned to have fun, Nebula decides Tony should learn a new skill as well, like wielding a sword. 

Day 11: After two entertaining days, Tony insists they take a picture with the nanotech helmet. He wants a souvenir from the trip. See after credit scene for the result.

Day 12: The Benatar passes through an active warzone. Nebula is wary they would meet militia ships, the kind that take no prisoner. So they shut all the power down and wait.

Day 13: Tony and Nebula feel confident enough to get all the power back up. A high voltage surge through Nebula’s arm disrupts her robotics. Tony offers to help with the reparation. He owes her.

Day 14: The heating system is shutting down. Nebula gives Tony one of Gamora’s jacket as this of Quill is way too big.

Day 15: The Benatar drifts by a giant cluster of new born stars. Tony introduces Nebula to the concept of a dinner date (between friends).

Day 16: Tony and Nebula find one of Groot’s video games.

Day 17: Nebula realises Tony has nightmares, just like her.

Day 18: Tony and Nebula build a robot to fetch the last bit of food they can find, that the fox stashed in a narrow air vent. Nebula lets Tony eat it all.

Day 19: The lights shut down. Tony and Nebula have a chat.

Day 20: Tony teaches Nebula to dance. With discoball-nano-helmet.

Day 21: Tony and Nebula hole up in the least freezing place of the ship, the maintenance room of the still-cooling down thrusters. Nebula finally has a nap.

Day 22: Oxygen is about to run out. Nebula puts Tony in the pilot’s chair for him to die the more comfortably possible.

Day 23: Vers has found the ship following the fox’s instruction. A few hours from before the oxygen levels reach critical level with regards to Tony’s health, she brings Nebula an emergency oxygen tank found in an abandoned ship.

Day 24: Captain Marvel lands the ship in the Avengers facility on Earth.

‘After credit’: Five years later, Nebula is about to leave Earth once more, with Quill and the Guardians, to search for her alternate sister. She reminisces. See Day 11 for when the picture was taken.

Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7, Day 8, Day 9, Day 10, Day 11, Day 12, Day 13, Day 14, Day 15, Day 16, Day 17, Day 18, Day 19, Day 20, Day 21, Day 22, Day 23, Day 24, After credit.

(Note: I’m not repeating stories he’s told before and just putting them in parenthesis. I have a lot more videos to go until I’m caught up so that would save me a lot of time. If he gives details I never heard from him before, I will type those.)

“You Got Played and That's Dangerous” September 20, 2020, Speaks

- He asks where is your money? Hansen took thousands of dollars in donations. He was getting hundred dollar donations at a time. Hansen said he was going to throw James in prison, he’s under investigation by the police and FBI. You guys bought it. - Says someone wrote him saying they donated to Sarah’s Venmo and were later disgusted to find out she was full of it. - He asks where the money for Shiloh’s tattoo cover up went? He says he was told it was already covered up years ago. - Says Shiloh got pregnant while she cheated on him and took his money. Says Shiloh said he would pay James back. She gave him a fake wiring number. When he went to the money mart to collect it, the guy said that wasn’t a valid number. It didn’t have enough characters in it. - He asks what happened to Sarah’s laptop. Says the police would have raided him the day of or the day after if there was legitimate proof someone was like that. Says that was a year ago. - Repzion raised $23,000 for legal expenses, then he decided to spend it on repairing his car. He didn’t need the funds because he (James) dismissed the case. Says it cost him (James) $350 - $400 total. - Says you guys paid them to make him suffer or because you thought they were legitimate victims. He’s the most honest person he’s ever met. He never met anyone whos honesty is as non-self serving as his. Says for example, the first time he tried to sleep with a girl he couldn’t get it up. Says he once kissed his cousin when he was 13. Says he doesn’t need to say these things, but he doesn’t care. That’s why he started adult sites. - (Stripped in the military story.) - Says you recklessly gave your money to people who want to use you. They delivered you no results. The police say it appears there are no actual victims. The police officer agrees with the former air force cop. Says he strictly abides by the law outside beating his dad and speeding on the highway sometimes. - He says you call him a predator because he says things you don’t like, like you’re fat. You can’t handle criticism. If you say he’s done something evil, you think it invalidates everything he ever did. - Hansen has a problem with honesty and integrity. He doesn’t get the full story before talking about someone. - If you consume what you hate, you not only come closer to that in which you hate, you become like a hero that becomes the villain because he doesn’t die soon enough. - Asks what happened to the women that wanted “justice”? Asks if the police looked at what these women were saying and told them they were stupid. The former air force cop actually knows and respects the law. - Says the internet is mentally disabled. You can’t get through to them. - These people conned you out of thousands of your dollars and you cheer for them. They sold you a story that Onision is going to prison and you wished he would get violated in prison like a bunch of sociopath sickos. He wouldn’t wish that one anyone. He just jokes about it. - He says a couple days ago someone’s Youtube channel got terminated recently because they tried to commit a crime against him. Says it was the same person who went after snoopy [he doesn’t remember the person’s name] They’re part of the goon squad. Someone committed perjury by filing a claim against that person and he let Youtube know. The person went to do more things, lying on legal documents. - People said on a police report, James said Hansen was yelling into his house. Says Hansen was so loud, he could hear him through a door from his downstairs. Says what you guys see if not the full footage. He has the Ring footage. Says yelling is an accurate description. What kind of creepy nasty old man Youtuber shows up to another Youtuber’s house? The police told him he needed to leave. Hansen worked with a guy who was in the news for allegedly groping woman. That guy came to his house. - Last time Hansen showed up at someone’s house, that person committed suicide. Says you’ll probably say that guy deserved to die because he’s a preparator. Says you sound like you are sick and disgusting. - Says former mods of his who he kicked out hang out with anti-o’s. He says it’s not healthy. Says 4 months before he booted a mod from his server, she sent him an email with heart emojis. After he booted her, she said she hated him for a year and a half. Says she’s 36 and she’s now running a campaign against people on his server who don’t hate him. - Someone went on Hansen and said he told her to dye her hair and get a tattoo. He said he told her to dye her hair green and get a spray on tan so she’d look like an Ooma Loompa so he’d take her back because she lied to him. He says people paint that like it’s some kind of psychoses, like the chained to the wall thing. Says she was already voluntary waned a collar on her neck during intercourse. - A lot of women like to be in a Dom / Sub scenario. You guys live in a delusion where you would have to have sex with a women with your hands up so they can’t freak out later on on the internet. People lie all the time. - Says the lies about him aren’t even criminal. Says as far as he knows, there are three women just complaining because he broke up with them and hurt their feelings. - The law took his side. He never heard from the FBI. He only heard from the police when you guys falsely report him. No raids. Says you guys told the cops he murdered Sarah, but she answered the door. It’s a crime to give false reports to the police. - Says the women are all homewreckers. Shiloh broke up his first marriage. He says it was partially his fault because he fell for her. Says she initiated it as a business arrangement. Introduced herself as a Canadian pop star and they talked over Skype. She started putting things in there like she was into him. He was married to a friend who he wasn’t passionately into. They made videos together. Says his ex wife would get upset and quit halfway though. Says Shiloh once quit halfway through, then demanded he finish the video with her. He says he guesses that’s good. - Shiloh inserted herself into a married man’s life and he split. Says he doesn’t regret that decision. - (Skye alimony story, prenup story) - Says Billie tried to break up his marriage. One time she said if Kai and James broke up, she’d stay with Kai. (Billie and Greg slept together story) He says he lived 2 miles from a shopping mall, but Billie and Ayalla told you guys he lived in the middle of nowhere to make it seem like they needed help. He said after he caught Billie and Ayalla sneaking into an uber after he broke up with Billie, she cried and hugged Kai. Says Kai was pissed off because Billie cheated on him. He tells Billie to not abandon himself and Kai and if she wants the relationship to work, but she wanted to leave. He says he thinks she just really wanted to smoke weed. She tried to hug him and he rejected her hug and ran back to his house. - He says after cuddlegate, she went on a livestream and said she wasn’t a homewrecker, she just bruised their relationship. He says she laughed about that. (Cuddlegate story) - (Sarah sexually extorted him story) Says before he realized he was sexually extorted, he was trying to make things better. He tried to mend things and she asked him to fly to her state. He says he realized she was only trying to be with him, not Kai. (Aladdin story) - He says when she threatened her life, she said she loved Greg, not Kai. He says she was staying in a cabin near their house. Not with them. She was working at target. (Dat booty doe, kick out story) - Says he’s so honest that if everyone who was a Youtuber was sentenced to die, and someone asked who in the room was a Youtuber, he’d raise his hand. Says he’s not happy to be alive because he has adjustment disorder and depression. - Says a woman from animal control came out because someone reported he fated on his dog and fed them a muffin. He says he didn’t fart on his dog, but even if he did they eat their own shit so she shouldn’t have come out. She came with another officer and she wrote there’s an active investigation. He says there is no active investigation, but people saw that and believed it. - You’re an idiot if you believed their story because you didn’t ask what his side was. - Says you guys accuse him of being 5′ 6″. He touches the ceiling to prove he’s not 5′ 6″. He says you accused him of having a baby carrot. He says Only Fans proved that one wrong. You’re the dumbest community of people he ever encountered. - Victims don’t want money. Greedy people pretend to be victims for money. - He says Billie charged $50 on Only Fans. He says that’s greedy. He asks if she thinks she’s god’s gift to humanity.

General rewatch thoughts on Shameless (US) 10x03 - “Which America?” (just the prison scenes)

1

Mickey cracking his knuckles. You know what, Ian? I’m going to give this one to you. At least your fucking annoying flossing noises were productive.

“Your side of the cell” - ... which side of the cell is that supposed to be, anyway? I’m so confused by the supposed geographometry of this cell-splitting.

2

“The rumour” is that they’re trying to kick out the non-violent offenders? That counts as a rumour? Everyone under the sun knows that’s how they choose who to give parole hearings to.

“What’s your deal on the outside”... Look, while this is all reasonable advice... They’re also kind of talking like Ian and Mickey met IN PRISON, and not like Mickey WENT BACK TO PRISON for Ian. They absolutely need to have this talk, but it feels like they’re missing the point a little too.

“My sentence was supposed to be 3-5 years”... No... I WATCHED S8 and 9a... There was talk of 10-20 without a plea, 5-10 with a guilty plea, and 2 with an insanity plea. Where the fuck did 3-5 come from? Quote from 09x06 “Face It, You’re Gorgeous”: “I’m about to spend the next two years of my life in fight-or-flight mode.”

3

“You free at the moment?” - Okay, relatable. Ask a really stupid obvious question as the ice-breaker.

“Long distance, or no distance, marriage, kids, retirement?” Also relatable - turn this conversation from being about the immediate future into... everything. Just gotta escalate it all the way up there.

“You’re out there, you’re gonna be fucking other people, so will I.” Mickey is TRYING to get Ian to move on here. Mickey is trying NOT to want Ian to stay there with him... but then...

“It’d be one thing if you felt differently about leaving [...] if there was a part of you that felt maybe you owed it to me” Lemme translate this one for those of us not fluent in Mickeyese: “I’m gonna miss you when you’re gone and I’m scared that when you’re out there, you’re gonna leave me here to rot [again].”

This is such a WEIRD argument for Gallavich to be having... Because this entire story is just a back-and-forth of them both being selfless... And the realisation that they can’t BOTH be selfless all the time. Heck, this is basically the only time we see Ian being selfless towards Mickey... And I kinda dig it, because this is Ian thinking about them, in the way he used to back in S1-3.

4

Ian looking for advice... You know what? Thank God Lip didn’t answer because while he would have been RIGHT in saying that Ian shouldn’t throw his parole hearing, if Ian HADN’T tried to blow his chances, he and Mickey would never have actually had the chance to see eye-to-eye on this.

“Congrats, you’re an uncle” “I already was”... You know what, I don’t think this is on Mickey. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard Ian MENTION Frannie.

5

Mickey seeking advice from Nazi friends of his DAD?! Yeah, this is in no way a fucked-up situation.

“Yeah, unfortunately” - you know, I REALLY do want to see Mickey reacting to his father’s death at some point. If we get an S11, I hope that’s a thing that happens. It will be heart-wrenching, but I don’t think that space was explored NEARLY enough with Monica, and Terry has 1000 times more fucked up feeling baked in...

“It’s about my partner, Ian” - you know, I liked him calling Ian his “lover” and “boyfriend” and “family” in S5... But “partner” is always the one that gets me the most, and I’m not sure why.

“Business or pleasure” - I don’t think Mickey has a strong distinction between the two. I mean, all his business was either with Ian, or with his family... Still, the question was obvious.

“You had the talk, right?” ... You know, Ian and Mickey are clueless gays both in prison AND out, and I love it... I also love that “the talk” is a thing. It’s so ridiculous, and given that this episode seems to have like 12 D-plots and no A-plot, that just works.

“Let her go” - Not for nothing or nothing, but Mickey could probably have used that advice before coming back from Mexico to get himself thrown in jail with his ex-boyfriend.

“He’s gonna wind up resenting you and hating you” - for the record, Mickey, this would also have happened if he’d actually made it to Mexico with you in 7x11.

6

He’s actually gonna do it. Also, for a show that’s COMPLETELY unconcerned about continuity, I am AMAZED they remembered that Ian and Mickey lost their shiv last week.

And here comes selfless!Mickey, which is just... Mickey.

“You don’t belong in here, Gallagher”. NOR DO YOU MICKEY. You got sent to jail the first time on an unprovable attempted murder charge, while the supposed victim was CHASING YOU WITH A GUN just before you were arrested... Everything after that is kinda negated by the first stint being unwarranted.

“I’ll get out soon.” You know, I completely do not doubt this, and not just because we know he does from spoilers and stuff, but because see above ^.

“I love you.” *sad smile* “I know. I love you too.” It doesn’t get fucking old. It’s been 4½ seasons since Mickey first said it... But also: I can’t help but parallel this to Svetlana and Mickey’s exchange in 4x12. S: “You love him?” M: “I don’t know. Maybe.” Because Mickey wasn’t lying then. He couldn’t really untangle his feelings, and he was so uncertain... But now he is SURE of himself and of their relationship, and he KNOWS that Ian LOVES HIM, which is possibly even bigger than the fact that he knows HE loves IAN.

7

Fucking Mickey feels guilty for pushing Ian into trying to throw his parole... and is making it up to him. MICKEY MILKOVICH’S LOVE LANGUAGE IS ACTS OF SERVICE.

Masked Mallards, the Multiverse, and Everything else

Chapter 4 The Investigation of John Duck

A couple of Hours Earlier….

It was silent in the car as Elmo drove. He looked to the passenger seat, Negaduck seemed bored and lost in thought. They were no longer in their normal uniforms, didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb. Negaduck was in a sporting an unbuttoned expensive coat over a red dress shirt and a loose black tie and pair of torn black jeans. What really caught Megavolt's attention was the pin he wore on the collar of his jacket. It depicted a white rabbit with a frown on its face. He thought Negaduck hated the lagomorphs, then again Negaduck told him that this was his disguise. He never really had a life outside of his criminal activity.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that he looked like Drake’s slightly younger brother, but Drake had no siblings. Negaduck had said at one point that the Negaverse was 4 years behind Primeverse.  Oddly enough, Drake dressed that way before Gosalyn came into the picture. Megavolt looked in the rearview mirror. Gosalyn's eyes were still red from her fight she had with father as she looked through her school notes for her homework.

“So, squirt,” He started trying to break the silence. "Any chance you get to dissect a frog today?" Gosalyn continued to thumb through her notes. "No, the school won't let me, not after last time." She murmured. Negaduck snickered. Sputterspark ignored him and spoke again. "Look, kid, your dad just wants what is best for you, that's all." She looked up from what was she was doing. "That's what everyone says, he just wants Quiverquack out of the way so he can feed his ego." She responded.

Megavolt laughed for the first time since the night day before. “That does sound like Drake, but he was way worse during high school and his first few years as Darkwing Duck. He fought with our professors, got sent to the office for starting fights with other students who picked on any of his friends, which was mostly me. Remind you of anyone?” he asked, fully aware of the frequent phone calls Drake got from the school.

Gosalyn blushed but smile. ‘So, what changed?” she asked. Elmo smiled back. “The day he changed; was the day you came to live with him. He bought a house in the suburbs, a thing he swore he’d never do, he loved the city too much. Drake even swallowed his pride and got a stable job with me at Quackerwerks, until they closed down when the robots tried to take over.” They pulled in to the school parking lot. “He may not be perfect like me,’ he said jokingly.” But he does care about you, more than you’ll ever know.”. Gosalyn got out of the car and turned to her chauffeur.

“Thanks, Uncle Elmo," Gosalyn said as she swung her bag over her shoulders. "I needed that." Then she ran up the school steps and disappeared through the double doors. He turned his head to Negaduck, who had a smug toothy grin.” What so funny?’ he asked amused duck. “Oh, nothing,” Negaduck said with a pause trying not to laugh. “Uncle Elmo," he said in the sweetest tone he could muster. “Not a word of this to Bushroot and Liquidator!” Sputterspark said red in the face. “I've my own ego to maintain!”. Negaduck roared with laughter, as they spud off to the warehouse.

  St. Canard Bridge

Launchpad sat up from his chair and rubbed his eyes. He had been studying over Darkwing's case files for a couple of hours and cross-referenced then with Negaduck's ledger. Nothing came close as to the description of the clone. Nor, a way for it to have crossed dimensions without getting on the Magica's train. Due to the clone's age, Negaduck suggested that he was from an alternate future. He got from the chair and paced around. He stopped in his tracks.

After the Darkwing invasion, he and Scrooge McDuck had had a little disagree. McDuck had believed if Darkwing Duck were to continue as he is, he should reveal his identity to the world, be held accountable for his actions, and aid in bring the Darkwing doppelgängers to justice. Launchpad had defended his friend, by stating that Darkwing was not going to get involved in politics again after the Inkblot tried to corrupt him and that most of the clones were under the influence of foul magic from Magica, an enemy Scrooge McDuck was all too familiar with.  

Scrooge made it clear that was that the some that weren’t under her magic was what concerned him. He and his number one inventor Gyro Gearloose were already working on a way to make it possible to travel to different dimensions and timelines and had already begun to work on a prototype-like device. This was worth mentioning to D.W. once they met up again. Launchpad made his way to the elevator and took it down. Maybe Bushroot was having better luck than he was.

He entered the infirmary, the old Darkwing was on a hospital bed nailed to the floor and hooked up to various machines designed to keep him alive and monitor his progress. He was shackled by arms and ankles and had not wakened up. “If only he was this peace when he's awake.” A voice came from behind him. Launchpad turned to address it. "On that, we can agree" he responded. Bushroot came down a ramp in a wheelchair, his body had regrown expect for his legs.

It would be a little while longer before they would grow back. Until then he was wheelchair-bound. "How is he?" Launchpad asked. "He'll live," Bushroot answered, then proceed to make his way to sleeping mallard. "Come with me, I want to show you something,' He said. 'There may be more to the patient than we realized.”. Bushroot pulled out a notepad that he had been scribbling on. “What did ya learn doc?”

“The patient is around 50 years old, which puts him 20 years in the future of our own time.” Bushroot started. “Secondly, we brought him here for medical attention, yet when I was ready to operate on him, his bruises were gone, and the bleeding had stopped. Over the last two hours his stab wounds, given to him by Negaduck via broken shotgun, had cleared up with little medical interference, and bones that would have taken months to mend, have almost healed. There is also this.”

He put down the notebook he was reading from. Smack. Bushroot struck the clone across the face. "Normally," Bushroot said, waving his hand to hush Launchpad who was going to speak against the "doctor’s” treatment of the prisoner. "If a person has been knocked out cold, they would have awakened by now, or be awakened by an outside force or noise. However, as you can see…" Bushroot directed Launchpad to the still comatose duck. "So, what's your point," Launchpad asked trying piece it together.

" Last night, before the truce, Negaduck interrogated him in his way, via brutal beating." The plant scientist recalled. "He had escaped and forced open the door. I was surprised to see the tenacious mallard, in serious need of morphine, able to walk, much less able wield a weapon.” Bushroot grew quiet as remember to sounds that came from that room. “He escaped, but when we did find him this morning, his injuries were healed as if they were never there.” He continued. “The patient must have had time to sleep since then. My theory is, that he exhibits some sort of healing factor when sleeping or in a comatose state, whether or not it is connected to his inability to be made alert, I'm not sure." Bushroot wheeled around the bed near the clone’s head. “This may be why.”

During his time at the University, Reginald Bushroot was paving his way through the field of botany. He was trying to eliminate world hunger by finding a way to make animals photosynthesize like plants. Before he had tested his finding on himself, resulting in the plant duck he is today, he tested on plants and lab rats provided by the University of St. Canard. Each one had a barcode on them. Bushroot rolled the head of the John Duck to the side.

On the back nap of his neck was a barcode much like the ones he had used. “He was a victim of duck experimentation.,” Bushroot explained. Bushroot looked to Launchpad, the larger duck looked pained. Bushroot could also feel sympathy for the clone. It was a violently driven induvial, who tried to evade capture twice and had refused Darkwing’s help when he injured. Bushroot shook his head, the clone was their enemy, had killed Quackerjack in cold blood, and was hell-bent on killing Megavolt and anyone who got in his way. He couldn't afford to pity it.

  The Warehouse

  Negaduck and Megavolt appeared across the street from the warehouse. They had hidden the car at a nearby Hippo Burger, the same one Megavolt had visited last night. The Warehouse was deserted, not a single cop or reporter in sight. Negaduck had flipped through the radio after they had dropped off Gosalyn. The story was dead, not on a single station. He'd almost feel insulted if weren't considering the circumstances. "Looks like my counterpart made good on his end of the bargain,” he said. “Let’s not get shown up.”. He looked to Megavolt, who wasn’t paying attention. The rat was carrying a bouquet of brightly colored flowers he had "bought" from a local street vendor.

They entered through the broken window that the clone made when he had attacked. Negaduck landed on his feet like a cat, while as Megavolt landed on his stomach clumsily. The place was a mess of broken glass, bullet shells, and caution tape. Negaduck looked to the overturned table. Quackerjack was gone, all that was left was a white outline. The feeling came back strong, but after spending some time with Megavolt, he believed he finally placed it. “Remorse." He thought to himself. Did his time in this disgusting reality make him soft? The last thing he did to the clown was snap his arm two and failed to keep him out of harm’s way.

Megavolt made his way to the chalk outline. He stared at it somberly, his eyes were wide and red, but he was not about to cry in front of Negaduck. He placed the flowers near the overturned table. Silence filled the room. Negaduck grabbed his right arm with his left hand and shifted uncomfortably. He scowled. He was not about to let empathy, find its way to his corrupted soul, or ruin his reputation as a psychopath. “Once you’re done with your soapbox,” he said impatiently. “let’s get our gear and ditch this place.”. The electric rodent glared at the rude duck, yet this kind of behavior is what expected of him.

Negaduck scanned the area. There was nothing worthy of note, the police must have been thorough. It was a go thing the Fearsome 5 had stored backup gear in another part of the facility. The duck and the rat weaved their way through the maze of large empty containers, hallways, and stairs until they reach their destination. No one spoke. Negaduck stopped in his tracks forcing Megavolt to bump into him. The iron to their make shifted operational area had blown clear of its hinges, and left mangled on the ground. The pair entered the exposed room.

Everything was in disrepair. Negaduck's Dobermans were making a racket as they yanked against the chains that held them to a pole, Bushroot's lab had been destroyed, glass bottles and paper was everywhere. A trashcan fire was dying out, it was filled with notes, blueprints, etc., or what was left of them. Quackerjack's and Megavolt's equipment were smashed by a sledgehammer, which lay nearby. The mess, however, was organized and was sorted into piles of metal, glass, and plastic.

There was a warped piece of metal in the middle of the room. The piece of art was melted and tied in knots, but it was still a little recognizable. It was Megavolt’s Tron Splitter “What happened in here?” Megavolt blurted. Negaduck waved his hand at the dogs and they fell silent. He examined the trash fire. A crumpled paper that survived the blaze. He picked it up and brushed the ash off. Part of it had been burned off, but for the most part, readable.

 ---------- log.

Prime-verse: 2100 hours

Tron Splitter: destroyed

Eye of Quackzalcoatl: location unknown

Megavolt: at large

--------------lt: at large

Nega-Sc-----: at large

----------------: at large

 A green flash of movement came from under Bushroot's lab and wrapped itself around Megavolt's leg. “Spike!”. The pint-sized flytrap had been there the whole night. Megavolt pried him off his leg. It hissed at the sight of Negaduck, which Negaduck hissed back. Negaduck had gone about and beyond to make Spike hate him. From trying to make him into a salad, to "accidentally" setting his roots on fire. There was no particular reason Negaduck fought with the plant, he had no hatred toward Spike. It was just something he wanted to do. It was just the way things were. Negaduck gave himself a mental sigh of relief. Spike was a reminder that he was Negaduck, the biggest asshole in the freakin world. Nothing was going to change that.

The carnivorous plant slithered up and nestled Megavolt’s arms.” What happened boy?” Megavolt asked the plant. Spike’s vine-like arm pointed to a far wall on the other side of the room. Buckets of paint scattered the floor. On the wall was a symbol. It was a red circle outline with a purple stroke. A maroon duck head with one red eye and one blue. A slash of orange paint divided it in half diagonally. “Looks like the geezer clone, made a pitstop here before he attacked us.” Negaduck said, amused that the Darkwing clone took the time to paint this symbol. The clone, like his goody-two-shoes counterpart, shared the same attention-seeking ego.

He looked at the remains of the note he had found. “The fool also left a list of targets and items of interest.” he continued as he shoved the note into Megavolt’s hand. “Killing you is only part of his plan. He had succeeded in his first task in destroying your toy.” Negaduck point to the mangled tron splitter in the center of the room. “He’s also is looking for Eye of Quackzalcoatl, a magical artifact. Unfortunately, the rest of the list has been burned away, so we can’t learn much else.” Negaduck tucked the note into his coat. “Didn’t Drak-Darkwing already destroy the Eye?’ Megavolt asked. “Yeah, but the clone didn’t get the memo.” Negaduck answered.

Negaduck released his Dobermans. They bolted outside the door and disappeared down the hall, their barks echoing throughout the building then faded into silence. "Aw, look at them go," Negaduck said sounding like a proud parent. "I hope they bite pedestrians and maul a few children before they get shot down.”. Spike’s vines tightened around Megavolt’s arms and torso as he held him. The flytrap felt safer that way. “you, never gave them their shots, did you?” Megavolt said a little afraid for anyone that met those monsters. “Never even took them to see a vet.” Negaduck retorted. The trio salvaged what they could then headed back to the Mallard Residence.

  Mallard residence.

4:30 p.m.

  Gosalyn opened the door to her house. The only one there was the Liquidator. He was slumped on the couch in a sitting position, head tilted back and passed out. The wall was fixed and had a fresh coat of paint. “I thought he said he didn’t sleep?” she said aloud quietly. “No, but the mutt seems to like it as a pass time.” A deadpan voice came from behind her. She turned around to see the evil duck enter the house followed by Megavolt trying to free his arms from Spike. Negaduck stared at the child. The last time she saw him, he led a hostile takeover the St. Canard Penitentiary and turned it into his personal playground.

Negaduck eyed the broken device on the table. Gosalyn had shattered it when she had shot it with an arrow. She had a knack for causing chaos everywhere she went, such raw talent was wasted in the service of Darkwing Duck, who wouldn’t even let her fight. “I still stand by what I said at the penitentiary, you’ve always been a bad seed.” Negaduck said in a serious tone, as he put a burnt note on the table with the rest of the clone’s belongings. “You could reach your true potential if you came to work for me, and not have to be held back by your Dipwing father.” Gosalyn tossed her schoolbag the floor in anger and marched up to the Mallard twice her size.

“Thanks, but no thanks. In fact, you can take your offer and- “. She colorfully told where he could stick his proposal, causing Megavolt to put himself between the two if Negaduck tried to do anything, but to their astonishment, Negaduck smirked and shrugged. "My offer still stands." He said coolly. Negaduck turned his attention to table cover in the various item obtained from the clone. Gosalyn watch as Megavolt hurried after his leader. She could not understand why any of his men followed him at all. He treats them horribly, and the majority of them could easily tear him to shreds. The dog on the couch murmured something inaudible. “Was he dreaming?” she thought herself.

Negaduck picked up the trench coat. It was made of dark purple leather and the inside was lined with a yellow-orange fabric in its inside. The coat had no pockets and was rather plain, yet the otherworldly Darkwing was able to pull an arsenal from it. The night he captured him at the warehouse captured the first time, they had confiscated his weapons and armor, leaving him only with his clothes and his trench coat. He was able to procure two knives, tear gas, and a chainsaw. His eye flickered.

Negaduck recalled the time he had been reduced to atoms by Megavolt’s tron splitter. He had become an ink-like substance, that imposed his chaotic personality on anyone who touched it. Magica de Spell conducted experiments on it, which eventually led to Negaduck to returning body and soul. One of the experiments was giving an unstable ballplayer, a trench coat that had been tainted by the ink. “One-shot.” Negaduck thought.

Carmichael Q. Anthony was once a rising star in the sport of baseball as a pitcher. However, his fame caused him to down spiral. He developed a severe case O.C.D and felt compelled to never make the same pitch twice. It got to the point where he threw everything but the ball. The monkey was eventually suspended after throwing a puppy at the batter. De Spell gifted him a coat that acted as an endless supply of things to throw, some of which were deadly. From that point on, Anthony did her bidding under the influence of the ink, and gain a reputation under the name One-Shot.

Negaduck held the coat lengthwise and put his hand it, disappearing into the fabric. "I wonder," he said aloud. He searched around the fabric, until his hand wrapped around a metal handle. He pulled out a large claymore, it was way larger coat itself. Megavolt jumped at the sight of it. “So that’s how he did it,” said Negaduck mildly impressed. “He must have nicked this beauty off of One-Shot and used it as his personal arsenal”. Megavolt gave him a confused look. “I thought Darkwing burned it because of its dark magic.” He stated. Negaduck put the trench coat back on the table and tossed the sword aside. “True,” Negaduck responded. “We have to remember, that the geezer clone came from another dimension. He might have got it from another unfortunate baseball-playing monkey."

Megavolt turned his attention to the shattered device. "That is one mystery solve, but what about this," he said directing Negaduck's attention. Negaduck stared at the pile of loose wire and broken grey and green metal. He hadn't the foggiest idea of what to make of it. The John Duck lost its mind after Gosalyn shot it. Gosalyn made her way over to the table, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Hey, I think these wires go together.” Said Megavolt as he reached to put them together. “Uncle Elmo,” Gosalyn said sounding a little worried. “We don’t know what that thing does, we probably shouldn’t- “. It was too late. The small device sparked to life and the green metal began to glow.

Boom. The device of the leaped off the table with energy. Blue lighting came bursting out of it, items in the house were flung around with a violent force as it did so. The lightning formed a distorted circle above. Negaduck recognized immediately what it was, he had seen one since he got cut off from the Negaverse. It was a warp hole. The clone was carrying around technology that could rival S.H.U.S.H. It explained how the clone was able to follow the train undetected; he was jumping through warp holes.

The warp hole was growing unstable, it pulsed and cracked as it began to suck in everything in its proximity. Gosalyn was swept off her and was pulled toward the portal. To everyone's surprise, including his own, Negaduck grabbed the child and tucked her his arm. He used the other to hold on the couch, so he would get pulled in. “Sparky!” Negaduck roared. “Turn it off!!”. Megavolt, who was hugging the table leg, reached for the device to force it to shut done but instead knocked to further down the table by accident. "You idiot!" Negaduck roared in a rage.

A large icy mallet smashed the unstable device. It cracked and popped before it went dead. Smoke rose from under the Liquidator's hammer-like hand and the warp hole vanished. The disturbance had woken him up, the living area was a mess again, he was sure Darkwing was going blame him for it. The front door opened. Drake mallard enter, having had shed his purple uniform and spoke before he saw the living room. “Consider yourselves of the hook,” he said in a tired voice. “So please, for the sake of peace, don’t-“ his eyes fell on the scene that was once was his living room.

It was like a tornado had struck, walls were torn, furniture and appliances toppled over. Megavolt, and apparently Spike, were holding on the table leg as it were the safest place to be. Gosalyn was tucked protectively in Negaduck's arm, and Liquidator was on the table, his hand formed into a mallet. A part of the attic floor finally gave way and crashed on what was left of the coffee table. “Do I want to know who or what caused this?” Darkwing asked as calmly as he could.

The Liquidator reduced his hand to normal size to reveal the broken device, and then the lot of them pointed at Megavolt, who was still hugging the table. Darkwing took a moment to compose himself.” I got a call from Launchpad; the clone has woken up.” He said as he snatched Gosalyn from Negaduck and glowered at him. “Let’s see if he is more willing to talk now.”

 Later…

 “No, I am not wearing it.” Negaduck said stubbornly when Darkwing handed him the blindfold. “I will not allow myself to guided like a blind man, by you especially." Negaduck and Darkwing have already gotten in back into their uniforms. 'It's bad enough you know where I live, the last thing I need is for you to learn where I work." Darkwing argued. They had been at it for the last 30 minutes. Gosalyn sat next to the Liquidator on the couch, both were growing impatient with the bickering doppelgängers. Megavolt and Liquidator had already agreed to be blindfolded, it didn't matter to them much, though it would be nice to know where Darkwing's hideout in the future. Megavolt and Spike had already left with Launchpad, who had come by to pick the evidence they had gathered.

"Look," Darkwing yelled, starting to lose his patience with his yellow clan double. "The only way for us to continue the case is to question the clone himself. We had to take him to the tower for treatment, thanks to you, and we are not going to risk removing him from there. So, you either put on the blindfold and go with us, or you can stay here, frankly, I'm hoping for the ladder." Negaduck went silent for a moment, then he snatched the blindfold out of Darkwing's hand and placed himself on the couch next to Liquidator, defeated.

Gosalyn watched her father rub his eyes. He seemed tired, more than usual. According to the Liquidator, he was the last one to get back to the house today. It had been a while since he went to S.H.U.S.H. on his own, and not because of J. Gander. Hooter summoned him for a job. Gosalyn turner her gaze to the Aquatic dog next to her. His eyes have been locked on Darkwing since he got here.

"Gosalyn," Darkwing said grabbing her attention. She faced her father; they had not spoken since this morning. "I want you to know, that what you did this morning was incredibly dangerous, he could have killed you and you are very lucky." His arms were crossed and he was waving his finger at her, it was an indication of an impending lecture. Gosalyn braced for the yelling. "Young lady….," He began. "That was the bravest and selfless thing I have ever seen, and I have never been so proud of you.".

Gosalyn opened her eyes, her father smiled warmly at her. Out of relief of gaining his approval, the red-haired girl jumped off the couch, and into her father's arms who hugged her back. "Now, don't get me wrong, you're still grounded till your 30!" he said in a fake stern tone. He handed her bow, he had confiscated it from her this morning, with its quiver full of arrows. "You can have this back, but you only if you're going to use it from a distance, as it was intended to be used. Right?” his tone turning serious. The little daredevil looked him dead in the eye. "You can count on me!" she said with determination, yet both father and daughter knew she made no promises.

"Aww…" the Liquidator said forgetting that he for a moment that he was ever angry with Darkwing. Negaduck pointed his finger to his mouth and made a gagging noise. There were times when the Liquidator swore Negaduck had the maturity of a 14-year-old boy. The pair ignored the peanut gallery on their couch. Nothing going to ruin the moment. Negaduck sat up and spoke so only his hound could hear.

“Truce states that we can’t harm the geezer clone and he is going to jail.” He stated. “But I beg a differ. That duck is going to die tonight, he has escaped death by my hand one too many times, I am not going to sit here and let him breathe for another day.” Negaduck was shaking slightly, he hated not leaving a job unfinished and transgressors unpunished. “When He has given what we want as far as answers, I gonna kill him,” he said in hostel tone. “However, Dorkwing is probably aware of my intentions and will be keeping a very close watch on me. “

If I can’t get near him, I want you to put him down. Darkwing can defend the geezer from me and the others, but not from you." The liquidator nodded in agreement. He may not always do so, but the clone still had to answer for the attack at the warehouse. Besides the hound never disobeyed an order from Negaduck and always came through. There were times, though he won't admit it, Negaduck considered the Liquidator to be his right hand. It has always been this way since the formation of the Fearsome 5. Since that day……...

  /-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

  All he could see was him as his body sank to the bottom of the vat of contaminated water. Budd's body hit the bottom of the vial container of his own making. Darkwing was just standing there, just staring at him. The Masked Mallard disappeared from the water's edge and left the hound to his fate. Budd Flood watched the last of his oxygen leave him as it bubbled up to the surface, and he waited for oblivion. However, it wasn't the end of the hound. He found himself alive, somehow, but his body filled the container of his would-be grave.  

After a while, a liquid hand reached out of the vat. Flood pulled his aquatic body out of the vat and fell forming a puddle. “This is my life now.” He thought. Darkwing has no doubt had reported him to the police about his sabotage of competing water company. He was ruined, not to mention was no longer made of flesh. It was his fault, and he was going to make him pay. It took 3 days, but the determined hound learned to control his newfound power. He was no longer Budd Flood; he was the Liquidator.

  -----several weeks later.

  The Liquidator’s head plowed out of the water, and he rested his upper body on a ledge above the water. He was somewhere in the sewers of St. Canard. Darkwing had beaten him again, no matter how much stronger Liquidator was compared the duck. It infuriated him. "Sounds like you’re up shit creek…. Literally” a foul voice said a few feet away. Liquidator looked up to see a mallard. If it weren’t for his canine instinct, he would have thought it was Darkwing coming down to taunt him. However, this guy wore a yellow-orange version of the Masked Mallard’s uniform and his face was full of malice.

Negaduck knelt to the dog's eye level smirking a toothy grin. The liquidator snarled like a dog backed in a corner, he didn't know who this Darkwing look-alike was, but he sensed danger from his presence. "What's the matter?" the duck asked. 'Do l remind you of the one who did this to you? Did Darkwing beat you with a simple kitchen sponge?". The Liquidator extended his body and pinned Negaduck against a brick wall. Half his body was still in the water. "Who are you?" Liquidator demanded. "Names, Negaduck," he said. "I might look like the Purple Blunder, but besides that, we are nothing alike, morally anyway”. The Liquidator glowered at Negaduck, there was something not right. “What do you want?” the hound asked.

Negaduck was still smirking, not caring for the danger he was in. "You're, not the only one with a bone to pick with Darkwing Duck," he spoke in a calm tone. "What if I told you, I was putting together a team of like-minded individuals, who want nothing more to lay waste to St. Canard, robbing banks, burning down a building, etc., and kill Darkwing to boot." Liquidator loosened his grip but didn't let go. He was a crooked businessman, but he drew the line at terrorism. Negaduck continued. "I've heard reports of a monster in the waters of St. Canard. How he came to be." He laughed. "Yet is defeated by a clad purple duck, despite his power in hydrokinesis.". The liquidator growled. "Get to the point." The hound said, he hated long-winded pitches when someone was trying to sell him something.

"I offer you an opportunity," Negaduck answered. "Your power alone can only get you so far, it needs a guiding hand. I can provide that, especially against Darkwing Duck. All that I ask is that join me in my crew of misfits.". The Liquidator released his hold on duck and reformed to stand on the ledge. "I don't need your help to kill the Masked Mallard," Liquidator barked. "Oh really?" Negaduck responded sarcastically." How many times have you ended down here, because he forced you down a pipe? How many more times are you going to have to sit someone's yard, collecting pigeon shit, because he turned you into a statue? How long will it take for you to realize, that you can't beat him, at least not on your own." The Liquidator's body began to boil in rage.

“And what makes you think you can help me? What’s in it for you?” the hound demanded. He was from a world of commerce and dirty business, there was always a catch. Negaduck didn’t flinch a muscle as the Liquidator released him and flooded around him. “Simple really,” Negaduck said his smirk disappearing leaving his face without expression.” I want to make my goody-two-shoes clone suffer, then when I am bored with him, I’ll kill him.” Negaduck paused for a moment. “He is everything I hate in the world, then some. His mere existents makes my blood boil." Negaduck turned his attention to the hound. "However," he said as if he was forcing himself to talk. "I can't do it alone, just like you. So, I am assembling a team of people to raise hell on St. Canard, who has a personal vendetta against Darkwing Duck, and I require a hound."  

The Liquidator's body began cool off from its high temperature, and steam rose with a hiss. Once the steam dissipated, a normal size dog appeared in a watery form. The liquidator stood in front of the Mallard, easily towering him. "Do we have a deal?" Negaduck asked sticking his hand out. Ignoring every instinct that shouted at him to refuse the duck's offer, to stay behind the line he drew for himself, he shook the hand of a devil. He followed Negaduck into the darkness of the sewer and started his new life as a member of the soon to be Fearsome 5.

  Later that same day…...

  Negaduck pushed open an iron door. "Welcome to your new quarters." Negaduck said as he entered the building. He had explained that it was once a factory but was shut down because it failed inspection. It mostly made and sold candy. "Don't make yourself at home Mutty Water, we might move out soon if I can't the smell of chocolate out of the walls." Negaduck had come up with a list of insulting nicknames for the hound as they traveled to the factory. Liquidator wonder if the foul duck did this to everyone he met. No matter. The Liquidator didn't come along with him to be his friend. It was his new mission to kill Darkwing duck, even if it meant being loyal to a psychopath.

Something scurried across the floor and planted itself in front of Negaduck. It was a mutated venus flytrap about a couple of feet tall. It growled aggressively at Negaduck. Negaduck glowered at the bold house plant, then kicked square across the room. The plant hit a cabinet and bounced on to the floor. It pulled itself up whimpering. Negaduck continued on his way without a care. With one final hiss at Negaduck, it retreated down the hall. The Liquidator followed it out of curiosity. The flytrap led him to a small room with no windows and cover in plants. Due to the lack of sunlight, they were undernourished and turning brown, yet everything was in bloom.  

A hand reached out from under a nearby desk and grabbed his ankle. The sudden motion almost gave him a heart attack. "Is he out there?" asked a timid voice from under the table. The hound looked under the desk, and saw what he could only assume was the owner of the flytrap. It was duck/plant hybrid, cowering under the desk. Negaduck had said that he had already recruited someone else, who had suffered at Darkwing's hand. A botanist by the name of Bushroot. He like the Liquidator had gone under an untraversable mutation. Bushroot was in a fetal position, he had angered Negaduck that morning and was hiding from his chainsaw. The hound knelt so he was partly under the desk. He now had another mission in life, other than ridding of Darkwing. "No," the liquidator said calmly and reach out his paw. "But I am."

 /-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Negaduck and the Liquidator finally had been blindfolded. Gosalyn took the Liquidator and guided him to one of the chairs and sat him in one. She proceeded to sit in the next chair over and pressed the button on the mouse statue. They disappeared into the floor. Negaduck and Darkwing followed suit. His house was now empty, the only evidence that something was there was a destroyed ceiling and broken furniture.

Chapter 5

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/190704477979/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

Chapter 3

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/190654237374/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

Chapter1

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/190578269234/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

Dog Days: Prologue

A/N: What’s up y’all! So today I give you the beginning, or third part, of the series Dog Days. Hitting y’all 2 times with the feels in one day, with this and chapter 7 of Work Out. If you want to be included let me know, I’ll make a permanent tag soon.

Warnings: slight angst from a past thought

Word Count: 1,629😁

Tag Squad: @sunlightandkisses • @honeychicana • @crushed-pink-petals • @themyscxiras • @dc41896 • @maddiestundentwritergaines • @champagnesugamama • @sdcyumyum • @badassbaker • @titty-teetee • @fumbling-fanfics

________________

“Damnit. The traffic in an airport in Atlanta, is worse than LA traffic. Move people, come on!”

“Mom. It’ll be ok? Don’t worry.” My 10 year old son, Javier, didn’t even look up from his Nintendo Switch, as we moved on the conveyor belt. We maneuvered through the crowds quickly, and precisely, but folks like to be slow.

“Javier, my sweet, sweet boy. Your mama needs to sleep. This plane ride will help me out greatly.”

Traveling from state to state, to make sure my magazine thrived for location shoots, you’d think I’d be used to this by now. Not at this hour however, still not a morning person even though I’m fully awake.

“How did the interview go with Normani? She’s really pretty.” The way his eyes lit up when I mentioned I had an interview with an up and coming singer, was like a kid going to Disney World.all wide eyed and bushy tailed.

“It went great. She has new music coming out soon and I love her drive; her commitment and style. It was fun. Does my little man have a crush? Ooh Javier imma tell my mama.” I enjoyed teasing him every now and then.

“Mom! Come on.” The cheesy grin on his face was so precious. He tried to hide behind his knees in his seat, as we waited for our group number to be called. We were a few hours early anyway.

I bet you're wondering when did I have time to have a kid? I started to remember how I got my little angel.

Almost 14 years ago, I had Javier with my late fiancé Vincenzo Giovani. He was the love of my life when we first met and I thought we’d last. I was wrong, way wrong. He was in an intense line of work and I didn’t like any of it. By the time I had Javier, Vinny was in too deep with the Italian mafia. Under his father's ruling, and apparently my father’s jurisdiction, it was meant to be.

It was more of a business move for him, and I didn’t want to be in any part of it. I was still in my 20’s, very young and in college for my second degree: I was so emotional by the end of it all and it had gotten worse after I had Javier. The further into our relationship, the sweet nature I thought Vinny had was just a facade. The fights got worse: the emotional abuse was horrific and my physical being proved that I was a victim. I hated that my son grew up around that environment, seeing his mother be hurt like that.

So I decided to have Javier go live with my mother, for the time being, till I got matters sorted out. It was late one night, on a Wednesday and raining, I got into a fight with Vinny. It was a great deal of arguing; items being thrown and broken, and one moment that pushed us both over the edge.

I had mentioned how he was a bad father, and a horrible baby daddy on top of it all. He pushed me against the wall and got in my face. Telling me over and over how I wasn’t anything to him: I was a waste of space, just one of his many baby mamas he has laying around. I wasn’t anything to him, I felt enraged all over again.

Before he could hit me again, like he’d used to do countless times, he choked me. I clawed at his arm as much as I could, gasping for air. My vision treading to go black, until I grabbed his gun. He barely let me go and I shoved it against his torso. He looked me dead in my eyes and said ‘you wouldn’t dare. You don’t have the guts to shoot me.’ I thought over all the times I’ve been hurt; the nights I cried and felt alone. He squeezed my throat harder and then a bang rang through the house.

I shot him in cold blood, about 4 times. All those years of feeling inadequate I finally felt at peace. Crying in being released from my physical prison. I was thankful that my son wasn’t there during all of that. I still carry that burden till this day. Wishing I had raised Javier in a better environment.

The nightmares of him trying to kill me, kept coming back every now and then. A year later, the day I met Henry through Roxie changed all of that. He made the nightmares vanish, with his caring love and good nature. He even taught me self defense and he restored my faith in falling in love.

Javier was young, but knew of Henry growing up. The only father figure he’s ever known over the course of five and a half years that we dated. It hurt him for us to break up, it hurt him tremendously. The reason we broke up, was because of my father Julian. He was going to blackmail me, for killing Vinny, if I didn’t break up with Henry.

He would say that I wasn’t good for Henry’s image, and I didn’t need to be in his spotlight. I didn’t want to break up with him, he was my light, and it hurt us both. My father, who I don’t even claim as my dad anymore, is a bitter old man who doesn’t want anyone else to be happy but him. No wonder my mother divorced him because he ain’t shit. He cheated on a good woman, who birthed all four of his kids, with a woman who was like family, and had the audacity to get mad when my mom gave him divorce papers.

Someday I was hoping, Henry and I would get back together, and it looks like we just might. I took the initiative to talk to him at the beginning of 2018, and it was the best decision I’ve ever made.

“Mom, it’s our turn to board. Warm cookies here I come!” The tug on my arm from my active little boy, took me out of my trance, focusing back on the task at hand of getting back home.

Wiping away my tears, I caught up with him. “I’m coming Jay, wait for me please.”

“Sorry. I just want the window seat this time around, you know? Slightly more leg room and- dad?” Javier stopped in front of me, causing a slight jam, luckily no one was hurt.

He hasn’t said that phrase in god knows how long. Why would he be saying that though? I glanced up to see what all the commotion was and froze. He did mention he had business in Atlanta, but didn’t say what time he’d be going back to California.

“Javier? Oh my god look at you, you’ve gotten so big.” The way he hugged him, was like a reunion you’d see in those Lifetime movies. Just full of love and a few happy tears were shared.

“Your mom didn’t tell me you’d be going to Atlanta with her.”

“She also didn’t say she talks to you too. I'm glad you both are talking and I hope it’s long term?” The hopeful turn in his voice was sweet and caring. Just like any kid that’s wishing for a miracle to happen.

We both looked at each other for a split second, then back at Javier. “It’s possible.” We say simultaneously.

“Yes! Oh this better than Christmas, mom we’re in the same area as dad. You two over there, I’ll be here across from y’all.” Gathering all his belongings, he made it his mission to get comfy on the way back home.

Sitting next to Henry, after placing my stuff in the overhead bin, I couldn’t help but feel like a giddy schoolgirl around him all over again.

“Nice to see you again, Miss Leon.” His smooth voice, mixed with his infamous smirk, overtook my thought process.

Biting my bottom lip, I couldn’t suppress my giggle. “You as well, Mr. Cavill.”

“Are you guys free tomorrow? I’d like to spend the day with you, if that’s ok with him Javier?” Henry asked cautiously.

The classic kid in a candy store look. This kid, without a shadow of a doubt, knew how to work somebody. “It’s totally fine with me! Mom?”

“I don’t see why not. Sounds like a plan.” Henry slyly laced our fingers together, kissing the back of my hand gingerly. Javier was smiling like a kid in a candy store, before going back to his game.

Henry leaned over next to me, whispering in my ear. “Ever since we saw each other that day at the art festival, you’ve been glowing. What’s your secret?”

“Getting my light back to shine in my life.” The way I whispered back to him, as I started scratching his chin, I could swear his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Boy you are so sprung over me.” I smiled happily.

He kissed my nose, making me melt at his words. “That’s because my love for you never truly died. It rose from the ashes when you kissed me again.”

“Damn you’re good.”

“I’ve been told. I’ve missed you Yaya.” His genuine smirk was unmistakable. Resting my head on his shoulder, it felt like we never broke up to begin with.

“I’ve missed you too Dally, so very much.” Placing s kiss on his cheek, I noticed how read he had gotten by it. Javier chuckled at us both with glee, happy to be in the presence of his parents reunion.

This was going to be a pleasant reunion, cause God bless the friendly skies, Javier was definitely getting his wish after all.

ITALY’S COMMUNIST RECIPE FOR DISASTER

Published March 24, 2020 |  By Giacomino Nicolazzo

Montecalvo, Lombardy, Italy. 

As I sit here in my involuntary isolation, it was just reported that overnight 743 more people died and 5.249 new cases have been reported. This brings the total cases of infection to 69,176 and the body count to 6,820. We take relief in knowing that 8,326 people have recovered so far. ( Numbers as of 3/24, 8:30pm in Italy.)

Most towns here in Italy, from the upper reaches of the Alps to the ancient shores of Sicilia and Sardenia, while not deserted, are closer to being ghost towns than the bustling centers of tourism, business and daily life they were just a few weeks ago.Stores and shops have been shuttered. Restaurants and coffee shops no longer serve customers. Schools, universities, sporting arenas…even our museums and theaters…all closed. Even the Vatican City has closed its gates and armed patrols monitor the 20 foot tall walls that protect it!

Streets and roads are now empty for as far as the eye can see. Normally they would be filled with crazed Italian drivers in tiny cars and scooters (the ones that sound like demonic insects) darting here and there, reaching the limits of centrifugal force on our roundabouts. In the piazze of our towns and cities, there are now officially more pigeons than people.Many of us know someone who has been infected and recovered. Some of us know someone who did not recover…now they are dead. But everyone knows someone who has been affected by this microscopic monster in one way or another.

Sixty million of us are in lock-down…it is like a war zone here. We are being held prisoner in our own homes by an unseen enemy that sneaked in unnoticed…by most of us. As you will read in just a few more minutes, there were those who knew something like this was coming…or at least they should have.So who is to blame? With all this craziness swirling like a whirlpool at our feet, I just had to find the blame answer. And so I have spent my free time (of which I have a lot in these days) digging and researching. I was literally shocked to discover how this has come to be.I am not going to bore you with talk of Patient ‘0’ who spread it to Patient ‘1’ and how mathematics efficiently explains the rapid expansion of infection. No…I am going to tell you how (as I see it) the virus came to Italy.It has everything to do with communists. Allow me to explain.Beginning in about 2014, Matteo Renzi, the imbecile ex-mayor of Firenze (Florence) acting as the leader of the Partito Democratico (synonymous with the Italian Communist party), somehow managed to get himself elected as Italy’s Prime Minister. To give you a proper frame of reference, Matteo Renzi was so far left, he would make Barack Obama look like Barry Goldwater!

At the same time that Renzi was leading Italy into oblivion, strange things were happening in Italy’s economy. Banks were failing…but not closing. Retirement ages were being extended…for some reason the pension funds were dwindling or disappearing. The national sales tax we call IVA (Value Added Tax) rose from 18% to 20%, then to 21% and again to 22%.And in the midst of all this financial chicanery, the Chinese began furiously buying up Italian real estate and businesses in the North.Now the reason I mention Renzi and the Chinese together is that strange things were also going on between the governments of Italy and China. A blind eye was being turned to the way the Chinese were buying businesses in the financial, telecommunication, industrial and fashion sectors of Italy’s economy, all of which take place in Milano.

To be brief…China was getting away with purchases and acquisitions in violation of Italian law and EU Trade Agreements with the US and the UK…and no one in either of those countries (not Obama in the US or Cameron in the UK) said a thing in their country’s defense. As a matter of fact, much of it was hidden from the public in all three countries.In 2014, China infused the Italian economy with €5 billion through purchases of companies costing less than €100 million each. 

By the time Renzi left office (in disgrace) in 2016, Chinese acquisitions had exceeded €52 billion. When the dust settled, China owned more than 300 companies…representing 27% of the major Italian corporations.The Bank of China now owns five major banks in Italy…all of which had been secretly (and illegally) propped up by Renzi using pilfered pension funds! Soon after, the China Milano Equity Exchange was opened and much of Italy’s wealth was being funneled back to the Chinese mainland.

Chinese state entities own Italy’s major telecommunication corporation (Telecom) as well as its major utilities (ENI and ENEL). Upon entry into the telecommunication market, Huawei established a facility in Segrate, a suburb of Milano. It launched is first research center there and worked on the study of microwaves which has resulted in the possibly-dangerous technology we call 5G.China also now owns controlling interest in Fiat-Chrysler, Prysmian and Terna. You will be surprised to know that when you put a set of Pirelli tires on your car, the profits are going to China. 

Yep…the Chinese colossus of ChemChina, a chemical industry titan, bought that company too!Last but not least is Ferretti yachts…the most prestigious yacht builder in Europe. Incredibly, it is no longer owned by the Ferretti family.

But the sector in which Chinese companies invested most was Italy’s profitable fashion industry. The Pinco Pallino, Miss Sixty, Sergio Tacchini, Roberta di Camerino and Mariella Burani brands have been acquired by 100%.Designer Salvatore Ferragamo sold 16% and Caruso sold 35%. The most famous case is Krizia, purchased in 2014 by Shenzhen Marisfrolg Fashion Company, one of the leaders of high-priced, ready-to-wear fashions in Asia.

Throughout all of these purchases and acquisitions, Renzi’s government afforded the Chinese unrestricted and unfettered access to Italy and its financial markets, many coming through without customs inspections.

Quite literally, tens of thousands of Chinese came in through Milano (illegally) and went back out carrying money, technology and corporate secrets.

Thousands more were allowed to enter and disappeared into shadows of Milano and other manufacturing cities of Lombardy, only to surface in illegal sewing shops, producing knock-off designer clothes and slapping ‘Made In Italy’ labels on them. All with the tacit approval of the Renzi government.It was not until there was a change in the governing party in Italy that the sweatshops and the illegal entry and departure of Chinese nationals was stopped. Matteo Salvini, representing the Lega Nord party, closed Italy’s ports to immigrants and systematically began disassembling the sweatshops and deporting those in Italy illegally.

But his rise to power was short-lived. Italy is a communist country…socialism is in the national DNA. Ways were found to remove Salvini, after which the communist party, under the direction of Giuseppe Conte, reopened the ports. Immediately, thousands of unvetted, undocumented refugees from the Middle East and East Africa began pouring in again.

Access was again provided to the Chinese, under the old terms, and as a consequence thousands of Chinese, the majority from Wuhan, began arriving in Milano.

In December of last year, the first inklings of a coronavirus were noticed in Lombardy…in the Chinese neighborhoods. There is no doubt amongst senior medical officials that the virus was brought here from China.

By the end of January 2020 cases were being reported left and right. By mid-February the virus was beginning to seriously overload the Lombardy hospitals and medical clinics. They are now in a state of collapse.

The Far-Left politicians sold out and betrayed the Italian people with open border policies and social justice programs. One of the reasons the health care system collapsed so quickly is because the Renzi government (and now continued under the Conte government) redirected funds meant to sustain the medical system, to pay for the tens of thousands of immigrants brought in to Italy against the will of the Italian people.

If you remember the horrible earthquake that decimated the villages around Amatricia, in the mountains east of Rome in 2015, you would also remember how the world responded by sending millions of dollars to help those affected.

But there is a law in Italy that prevents private donations to charitable Italian organizations. All money and donations received must be turned over to a government agency, who in turn is to appropriate the funds as needed. But that agency is corrupt just as are all the others.Most of the money never reached a single victim in the mountains. The Renzi government redirected the vast majority of those funds to pay for the growing immigrant and refugee costs.

As the economy worsened under the burden of illegal immigration, compounded by gross government spending and incompetence, unemployment rose quickly…especially among young people. The unemployment rate for men and women under age 35 is close to 40%.

So more money was diverted from the health care system and used to pay what is known here as guaranteed income. Whether you work or not you are paid here, especially if you belong to the PD! The government simply raises taxes on those who do work

.Let me give you a quick example of the height of insanity to which Italian taxation has risen.

If you live in a building that has a balcony or balconies…and any of those balconies cast a shadow on the ground, you must pay a public shadow tax! I will say no more!

The point I am trying to make here is that not only did the Chinese bring the virus to Italy (and the rest of the world) it was far-Left politics and policies that facilitated it.

This should hopefully be a warning to Americans that while they work to rid themselves of the China Virus, they should just as vehemently endeavor to rid their government of any politician that circumvents the Constitution and ignores the laws of the land…plain and simple.

Giacomino Nicolazzo  is one of Italy’s most beloved writers.  Born and raised in Central Pennsylvania, he lives in a small village in Lombardy where he writes his books.