#((even less so when he's trapped in an insane asylum))

[kino-der-joon]

what are the relationships between richtofen and other members (both primis and ultimis) ?

💫 Hey-hey!! Oohh this will be a fun one!! Let’s get right into it! I’m SO excited !! 💫 LET THE LORE YAPPING BEGIN! ✨

💫 Ultimis

⭐️ Richtofen

💫 Richtofen had just been ordered to give up his personal research on Agartha. He had the elemental shard and his human test subjects confiscated and was ordered to return to the Der Riese facility to work under Dr.Maxis’ watchful eye. He took this opportunity to get rid of Maxis once and for all, but could have never accounted for Samantha getting trapped inside the M.P.D. With the undead unleashed on him (and the other Group 935 members,) Richtofen knew he needed back up if he was going to survive the onslaught of bloodthirsty zombies and woke up his precious test subjects to fight along side him. 💫

⭐️ Tank Dempsey

💫 Tank Dempsey was the only test subject to have seen Richtofen’s face before he was put on ice. He was a marine sent into Verrückt (a group 935 facility that used to be an insane asylum,) to recover American spy: Peter McCain. Unbeknownst to him and his extraction team, McCain had already escaped the old asylum and so the recovery mission turned into a fight for survival. Most of his team died, and Dempsey was captured by Group 935. After his capture, he was dragged to Richtofen kicking and screaming, threatening every scientist in the room before being knocked out and put on ice for Richtofen to experiment on. He was the last of the three test subjects that Richtofen had, replacing one of the test subjects Richtofen assumed he’d killed accidentally. ✨

💫 When he was awoken, he had no memory of his capture and didn’t recognise Richtofen at all, but the two have always been opposing forces. Their relationship is best described as ‘aggressive’ and ‘hateful.’ They despise each other and aren’t shy about showing it! For instance: Richtofen has lines where he takes pleasure in Dempsey being surrounded by zombies, lines where he begrudgingly compliments Dempsey’s headshots, and also lines where he just straight up yells his hatred for the marine out loud! Dempsey also has lines expressing the same hatred right back, or teasing and winding the doctor up with taunts. ✨

💫 After the events of Moon (on the map Alpha Omega,) Richtofen’s betrayal of the group leads to Dempsey trusting him even less than before- So much so, that Ultimis! Dempsey doesn’t even trust Primis! Richtofen by default. However, he is also capable of having a conversation with the doctor without blowing up on him, so they’re able to maintain their strained working relationship of convenience. ✨

⭐️ Nikolai Belinski

💫 Nikolai had a whole rumour mill of stories that followed his name, but the truth was much sadder than he could ever admit. After losing his wife to a bombing, he turned to vodka and span tall tales about past lovers he never had to cope with the grief. ✨

💫 Nikolai has a more patient and laid back attitude when it comes to Richtofen, but that’s only because he’s drunk all of the time. Just like the others, Nikolai also awoke with no memory of who he was, or who Richtofen was, so their bond was very easily forged in the beginning. Richtofen also seems to get along with Nikolai the best! He shows genuine panic and concern when Nikolai is surrounded or downed, and even calls him ‘comrade.’ ✨

💫 After the events of Moon, Nikolai distrusts Richtofen and very directly admits that the betrayal actually really hurt him. He has lines on Alpha Omega that bring Richtofen’s motivations into question, seeming angry and outright scorned. Nikolai becomes suspicious of the doctor, not having any of the same patience for him that he showed before. 🌟

⭐️ Takeo Misaki

💫 Takeo was a warrior from Imperial Japan, coming from a bloodline of honourable warriors. He was the best of the best, which filled The Emperor with envy. He sent Takeo to infiltrate and inspect Division 9’s activities, and when he was told that the conditions were inhumane and abysmal, he ordered Takeo to offer himself up as a test subject. So, Takeo did. Because of Group 935 and Division 9 being linked, Takeo was taken by Group 935 and was given to Richtofen as a test subject. (He might have been the first, though I’m not too clear on that.)✨

💫 Takeo has a very high respect for authority and that is likely why he’s so respectful to Richtofen despite the doctor not always being so respectful to him in kind. Takeo is loyal, and follows Richtofen without question until the very end. Richtofen has lines on Ascension stating that even throughout the experiments, Takeo always remained oddly respectful- Richtofen hated that. But, he seems to work with Takeo well enough. ✨

💫 After the events of Moon, Richtofen’s betrayal didn’t sit well with Takeo at all. He works with Richtofen in the name of honour, refusing to let either of them leave the ‘battlefield’ until their mission is over, but not without his own suspicions. Though, he does question if Richtofen has ‘seen the error of his ways,’ suggesting that there’s a little bit of hope there for some sort of redemption. ✨

💫 Primis

🌟 Richtofen

💫 Richtofen worked very loyally under Maxis at his university and then again under him for Group 935. On orders from Maxis, Richtofen was put in charge of developing recreations of the four elemental staffs that the ancient heroes wielded in The Great War. Working so close with Maxis, he watched as his mentor and father figure descended into madness, rambling about a supposed little girl in his head who claimed she was his daughter and begged for his help. Richtofen saw chalk drawings of guns on the walls appear overnight and soon heard the little girl’s voice too. If that wasn’t bad enough, spies were sent in from different countries to gather intel about the group’s activities in regard to the war, and that’s how the Primis crew all met. ✨

🌟 The Primis Crew

💫 Dempsey, Nikolai and Takeo are all spies for their respective countries this time around, and they all do not trust Richtofen at all at first. Rather than have varying degrees of attitudes towards him, they all start out the same with aggressive questions and demands to know just what he’s doing. ✨

💫 Unlike Ultimis! Dempsey, this version of Dempsey isn’t so loud about his hatred for the doctor- it’s a question if it’s even there at all. They have voice lines expressing hatred for each other, but compared to their rivalry in the original timeline, it’s rather muted. Dempsey follows Richtofen’s lead and respects his role as the self appointed leader until the end. ✨

💫 Nikolai is the polar opposite of his Ultimis self in this version of events- He despises Richtofen! He can’t trust him and never truly forms any kind of bond with him. The only positive thing to note about their relationship is after the death of Primis! Richtofen. With The Kronorium handed to him, Nikolai grants pity to Richtofen, finally understanding why the man was so secretive. ✨

💫 Takeo seems to be much more optimistic about Richtofen once they kill his ultimis counterpart. That event helped him to see things differently, and he gives Richtofen credit for that. He doesn’t fully trust him, but is the most friendly to him compared to the other two. ✨

💫Whoa this one was a bit of a long one!! But, I really hope this helped!! Thank you so much for your question!!✨

[fantastic-nonsense]

"The Arkham things is not canon, no. But with all the context, the idea isn't so much of a leap as a tripping over one's shoelaces to get there."

No, it's a huge leap regardless of context. Tim in canon has absolutely no reason to believe Dick wants to send him to Arkham. That's something that's never even implied by the text of any comic, much less something that Tim needs to mentally refute in-universe to himself. IRL, thinking that Dick wanted to send Tim to Arkham requires you to blatantly ignore several years of comic canon and more specificially the entirety of how Dick and Tim's relationship was portrayed from Infinite Crisis through the Reborn era.

Even starting at the basic foundations of the idea, you can see how ridiculous it is. Arkham Asylum's full name is the "Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane." Tim is not a criminal nor is he insane. Neither Dick nor Tim in-universe have any reason to think that Tim being there is an option that's even in the same room as the several other alternatives that exist, much less on the table!

Jean Loring gets sent to Arkham before Red Robin, so Tim has no reason to think people from the hero-sphere are exempt if they do something egregious enough. Jason Todd has already been to Blackgate once (and I think is sent to Arkham later?) so he knows former Bats / Wayne family members being imprisoned is on the table.

Jean ended up in Arkham because she killed Sue Dibny and covered it up by faking her own attempted murder. Her fate had nothing to do with the Batfamily's personal views on Arkham and should not be taken as such. Jason ended up in Arkham because he attempted to kill the Batfam on multiple occasions and then decided to go on a murder spree of petty criminals while broadcasting their deaths on social media. The circumstances behind Jason ending up in Arkham (which were largely out of Dick's power to control, as I pointed out here) are dramatically different from anything related to Tim's grief over Bruce's supposed death.

Pretending like "Dick wanted to send Tim to Arkham" has any sort of understandable textual support also flat-out ignores that Dick himself had just been trapped and tortured in Arkham by the Black Glove less than a month (in-universe) before Bruce died, during Batman R.I.P. Which Tim knows about because he was there, trying to track down an MIA Bruce and deal with Steph coming back from the grave. It was a big deal and we got a whole arc about Dick cleaning up corruption within Arkham and fighting Jeremiah Arkham during his time as Batman out of it!

If I also recall correctly, no one suggested Tim get any kind of counseling when Janet, Jack, or numerous friends were killed....But no one says "hey kiddo, let's get you a therapist" after Janet's murder. or Jack's.

Bruce, Dick, and Tim took a year-long vacation from normal vigilantism after those events and went globetrotting in an attempt to retrace Bruce's original training journey during his youth and "find themselves." That was the entire plot of them being absent from Gotham during 52/One Year Later, which was used to introduce Kate Kane as Batwoman and kickstart the Evil Cass arc. Bruce went off to go meditate in a cave in Nanda Parbat for two months and Dick and Tim spent that time healing and taking down Intergang in Europe. We know that Dick and Tim talked a lot about Tim's losses during that year off, because it's why Dick is so shocked that Tim is doing so poorly in Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul:

“Tim doesn’t say anything. And I realize…he doesn’t care. He’s been so hurt this last year and a half…lost so much…I thought we’d gotten past it…or started to deal with it…were Bruce and I just believing what we wanted to?”

Dick's suggestion that Tim see a therapist in Metropolis needs to be viewed not in the context of Dick "breaking an earlier pattern" but in the context of Dick thinking that Tim was starting to heal from all of his losses and then being violently reminded that Tim is not, in fact, doing fine. We know what's different this time: Dick watched Tim have a breakdown beside a Lazarus Pit less than three months prior and then saw him go through yet another loss, seemingly go into denial over it, and then push away all attempts of his family and friends to reach out to him in the aftermath. From Dick's perspective, Tim broke down in his arms three months ago and is now a) pushing everyone in his life away after the death of yet another loved one and b) denying Bruce is dead. That's why Dick reacts differently. And it's a perfectly understandable and reasonable reaction that doesn't really require any further thought than that, to be honest.

Thinking that there's any support for the Arkham suggestion also requires ignoring Dick's canonical response to Tim's denial of Bruce's death, the fact that Tim was pushing everyone away in the aftermath of Bruce's death and refusing to explain anything he was thinking, and that Dick and Tim were shown to still have a very strong bedrock of love and trust in each other even at the rockiest point in their relationship. It's not just missing a single line in a single comic issue; it's refusing to engage with the entirety of Dick and Tim's canon relationship before, during, and after Bruce's death.

Frankly, I think you're attempting to justify an inherently unreasonable fanon concept to yourself by desperately grasping at tiny snippets of canon that 99.9% of people who work with the concept don't even know about.

People who engage with "Dick wanted to put Tim in Arkham" are not doing so based on the knowledge that Jean Loring got sent to Arkham after Identity Crisis or that Tim's stepmom was institutionalized after Jack's murder; they largely don't even know that Tim has a stepmom. They don't actually know enough canon to make an informed assessment on the topic at all. They just made it up for extra angst points because it's a fun little way in their minds to make Tim even more of a poor little meow meow character, and then it fell victim to the fandom telephone problem! It's just a ridiculous assertion that requires some heavy character assassination and a blatant refusal to actually engage with canon on any level, and it needs to be viewed in that context.

Obligatory reminder that Dick Grayson did not ever even consider sending Tim to Arkham

This is what he said-

He wanted Tim to talk to a therapist. One from Metropolis no less, so not even Arkham adjacent in any way.

And for more context here, these are the other things Dick said-

I’m not saying Tim was wholly in the wrong for not explaining himself or anything like that. And I understand that sometimes it’s fun to woobify Timbo a bit by writing fics and things were everyone was against him during this time and all of that. I get that.

But I also want everyone to know that Dick did not ever canonically do that.

Dick did not do everything right by any means, but he never wanted to send his little brother to Arkham. That is purely fanon.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

the wolf should’ve been afraid of me.

Titans 3.04

just under the wire! ... i hope.

like with the previous review, i’m typing this up as i see the episode. here we go!

spoilers ahead.

1. ... well. that was an interesting cold open.

1.25. i don’t know whether to admire this show’s restraint when it comes to gotham and its excesses, particularly arkham asylum. it’d be easy to go hammer and tongs, like suicide squad (2016) did, or any number of bat media did, at a tropey, colourful~~insanity~~ that can be quite damaging, casting mental illness in strangeness and criminality. it definitely shows gotham as... separate from the rest of the country, its own ecosystem of heroes and villains, a sort of rogue state. 

but that ecosystem is still human, with its heroes needing to clip parts of themselves away just to survive, growing old and needing to be recycled, its villains languishing in the same kinds of systems that fail everybody else who needs to be helped. it’s a quieter, tenser sort of wrongness: not strange enough that you can dissociate, but not close enough that you can completely empathise. gotham is its own creature.

1.5. i know that the reasoning behind this is more doylist than anything, but i’m so glad that joker was killed off with little fanfare right at the start of the season. he is the one man in the batverse that’s transcended its confines as this sort of ethereal boogeyman/eternal edgelord and to justify his presence in the series would mean giving him this tired, overblown importance and too much of a stab at colourful, tropey “madness” in this otherwise-subdued series. i wish all batmedia would follow suit and get rid of this fucker.

1.75. so jason is bucking scarecrow’s control! or reminding him of who exactly holds all the cards right now. circling back to what i talked about in the last review, it’s remarkable just how little time it’s been since jason’s “death” and he’s already got ‘minions’ and elaborately set up plans to track, break and kill the titans. just how long has he been planning this? when did he first look at WE weapons prototypes and think that’s something i can use to blow somebody up? and the most unsettling question: did he plan his own death at the hands of the joker just so that he could break batman?

at this point it’s obvious that the scarecrow at least started jason down this path, but it’s frightening just how far he’s travelled already.

1.8. aaagh, less than one minute in! i’ll shut up. 

2. conner washing his hands at the sink reminds me that he was directly in the line of explosion when hank got blown up and he’s probably got atomised hank-bits all over his skin that he’s desperately trying to wash off.

... you’re welcome.

2.25. conner, don’t you speak to gar fucking logan like that, sir, no!

2.3. if anything it’s the lex part of him that gave him the knowhow to recognise the weapon and build a de-activator for it. 

anyway, for that ‘half-breed’ and ‘talking tiger’ comment?

(i wish, tho, that we actually see conner more interested in the superman part of his legacy, like maybe listening to stories from gar, or even better, dick, so we get a better idea of the pressure he’s feeling to live up to that part of him and not the part that’s lex.)

((i talked about conner’s stages of moral development in his introductory episode last season, but i wonder if the next stage of his self-actualisation would be to further integrate the parts of himself and realise that they are only parts and he, conner, is an entirely different person unto himself that can make decisions on how to use what he has and what he knows. his superman abilities can be used to destroy. his lex knowledge can be used to save.))

3. oh dawn :((

3.25. is this the last we see of dawn and hank? i mean, we know donna is coming back; would it be a stretch to think they’ll try to have a go at resurrecting hank as well?

3.5. “deathstroke didn’t make us into killers.” good, because deathstroke didn’t make jason a killer either. there’s a missing step there you need to be looking for, dick. 

3.75. dick did try to break the cycle, step away from gotham, run from the possibility that he could turn into batman. it didn’t help; he couldn’t fully withdraw from his vigilante persona the same time he loathed it, and batman literally haunted him both asleep and awake. but maybe gotham doesn’t have to turn anybody into anything. maybe gotham has nothing to do with it at all. it’s about taking responsibility, realising some sacrifices are pure bullshit, and building an actual family instead of merely a team.

anyway: hugs!

(oh, also? mr “i hate flying”? i mean, there’s perfectly valid reasons to hate flying that’s not related to childhood trauma, but then again, this guy was literally a ‘flying grayson’ once. also also, remember that he also gets sea-sick. must’ve a lot of fun stories to tell.)

4. ooh that gar/kory confrontation was brief but cool!

listen, i have never seen a psychiatrist with that extravagant an office and SIR I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW HOW--

4.5. kory’s so unused to reaching out for help and it’s breaking my heart that HPG likely is some kind of impostor that’s maybe causing her symptoms in the first place. 

kory and dick have mostly been apart this season but it’s remarkable how their journeys have paralleled each other; kory processes her grief, isolation and existential dread into a determination to take care of this new family she has, no matter what it takes; dick does much the same, forging ahead with plans and solutions until he has no fuel left in him and spirals into a massive breakdown.

4.25. listen titans this really is a TERRIBLE continuity error. we aren’t goldfish; we can clearly remember that two minutes ago it was gar’s upper arm that was burned, not his forearm. COME ON.

“sensory deprivation tank” *SNORT*

anyway, gar is the BEST

4.5. i wonder where these visions of experimentation took place. was it on tamaran, or on earth, after she came to hunt down rachel/trigon and before she lost all her memories? is HPG a part of the scientist group that experimented on her? ... god, i hope not. i mean, i think he is, but it would be cool to have some positive therapist representation in media. 

5. you’d think the van transporting a dangerous supervillain that only batman could catch would be more secure but... i’m also not entirely surprised. 

5.15. i love dick gives ZERO shits about hiding himself or even ensuring scarecrow is adequately contained. just turns away after kidnapping him in BROAD DAYLIGHT and says ‘let’s go’. I LOVE THIS DUMBASS

6. lmao gar is having a really really shitty day SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK or just a goddamn story arc of his own

6.5. i’m really confused about the timeline here. so... sometime ago, kory came down to earth to hunt down trigon, yeah? at some further point down the line she and her sister were kidnapped and experimented on. THEN she somehow escapes but... loses her memory? a few months pass and then we see blackfire alive and well and free; she kills faddei, can impersonate other people, and is clearly seeking out kory. but now she’s still in the experiment facility...? what’s going on?

i’m not entirely surprised about the facility being mostly deserted. either the biggest investors in this project gave up on it and it was left to the most fanatic to carry on, or they were deliberately trying to lure kory and get her to free blackfire--expand the environs of the experiment, so to speak.

7. hopefully barbara is going to get something to do other than listen to various men give her Attitude

8. how do you terrorise a terrorist? well:

i love when dick is a scary-competent motherfucker.

8.25. ooooh, the attack on crane at arkham a ploy to get crane to blackgate? nice one dick, i didn’t even think of that. but why though? to protect crane from the titans? to intercept the van to blackgate and “rescue” him? seems likely--red hood was there, except dick got to crane quicker.

9. still reeeallly unclear about the komand’r situation. was komand’r captured after s2? is this all A TRAP?? if so, why are you stepping into the only thing that can contain you, kory????

9.25. so... definite parallels between dick/jason and kory/kom here. i’m just. i’m still. really confused. i’ll shut up now.

10. this may be my favourite dick look yet:

woodsman!dick in a beanie.

10.5. i unironically love how titans has made this bizarrely-devoted-to-his-moniker, toxin-spewing supervillain into a tamer version of hannibal, psychoanalysing his victims into submission. it’s of a piece with how inward looking titans is, the way all of its villains are obsessed with how our protagonists’ minds work, to the point where they would actually spend time inside of them. 

there are no big plots to end the world. no apocalypses or endgames here. these villains collect the titans’ insecurities like infinity stones. the way the titans defeat them is by achieving character growth--literally winning by the power of love. literally “the real superpower is the friends we made along the way”!

10.7. anyway, i’m betting dick is used to this bullshit from crane and is humouring him in the service of getting more information. the story about the wolf? an implicit threat, not to mention dick getting to control what crane knows about him and what methods he would use to manipulate him.

am i giving dick too much credit here? i don’t think so. he’s really impressed me so far this season.

10.75. like. there’s a real unreliable narrator vibe coming off with every person that talks about bruce (much like how the various members of the titans talked about jason’s motivations) and to buy into crane’s talk about bruce being a psychopath is to fall for the same manipulation that jason fell for. dick is the only person who hasn’t really psychoanalysed bruce this season, and i think some part of his detective brain is piecing things together into a bigger picture.

11. i’m glad kory rescued kom but did she have to kill the scientist?

(i mean, yeah, probably - the less people know that kom escaped the less likely they’re going to have the fucking govt on their doorstep, but still.)

11.5. dick’s gonna come back to wayne manor, stare straight at komand’r and go, well which room would you like? because the team might as well adopt ANOTHER person, yeah?

12. oh MAN that red hood/nightwing fight was AMAZING! and he did the thing! the boomerang escrima thing! i’m so delighted!

12.5. the anger and disbelief in dick’s voice when he says you told crane EVERYTHING?! tells me that he knew exactly what he was telling crane himself.

12.75. “everything you are is because of him” - oh that reminds me of halluci!bruce from last season. i hope we see halluci!bruce again--he is so vicious but so entertaining... so much more effective at tearing dick down than crane or jason combined. goes to show that dick’s biggest enemy is own fucking head.

12.8. oh no! dick’s shot! crane is in the wind with red hood! blackfire is now with the titans! i love it!

honestly this season’s pacing is such a big step up from the last couple. gold star, show.

[gayenerd]

Green Day Deals with the "Rock Star" Dookie 

by Tom Lanham 

(First appeared in BAM Magazine, March 10, 1995)

 Young, loud, and snotty equals beaucoup bucks? What pencil-pushing, graph-charting trend spotter could've predicted it? But the facts speak for themselves: As of late February, Dookie--the brattish, snap 'n' snarl Reprise salvo from Berkeley's sloppy punk trio, Green Day--has sold six million copies. Six million. Chances are, somebody on your block is jumping up and down in his living room at this very moment to the scrap-metal power chords and ardent apathy of "Longview," "Burnout," "Basket Case," or "When I Come Around" and getting lost in the teen abandon of these testy 22-year-olds--weasel-voiced, Montgomery-Clift-like charismatic singer/guitarist Billie Joe; tom-tom tribal percussionist Tre Cool (of the ever-morphing hair-color fame); and bassist Mike Dirnt (who survived Green Day's appearance at Woodstock '94, although several of his teeth did not). 

Yes, punk rock is a marketable phenomenon these days, leaving many involved with the music's initial late-'70s, early-'80s wave scratching their heads, wondering why it didn't take the first time around. Public reaction started as curiosity ("Hey, honey, c'mere and lookit these goofy, green-haired little whippersnappers in an insane asylum on MTV!"), but spiraled up to rock-diet necessity (Green Day just won Grammy and they're nominated for quite a few Bammies as well, including such categories as Outstanding Group, Outstanding Album, and Outstanding Song--"Longview" and "Basket Case"). The fact that they've been nominated at all probably sends a shiver up the old dinosaur backbones of Eddie Money, Huey Lewis, and Boz Scaggs, a time-creepy feeling of "Gee, what the hell do we do now?" Because this isn't just some flash-in-the-pan punk movement, folks--this is a youth movement; Green Day are, as they hiply term it, "bored in the 'burbs," and reaching out, through TV and radio, like some prodigal preachers to other American kids who sense the same slacker ennui. Obviously, we're talking truckloads of kids. 

Ironically, the more fame edges into the Green Day ruffians' lives, the more mature they seem to become. They've turned down all interview requests as of late, even People magazine, preferring to lay low until this tide of interest recedes. Billie Joe got married last autumn, and spent his honeymoon--not in any exotic, expensive locale--but in Berkeley's grand old Claremont Hotel. Cool recently became a father, and Billie Joe's child is due any day now. It's a responsibility they've both eagerly undertaken. Rob Cavallo, the boys' coproducer and A&R man at Reprise, swears they're "old souls, the smartest young kids I've ever met." It rings true. 

The first time I spoke with Green Day, in January of '94, Cool, Dirnt, and Billie Joe were lazing around their dingy basement apartment in Berkeley, sitting on chairs and couches with potentially painful springs poking through. Rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards were scattered across a coffee table, along with several bongs of various sizes, plus a four-and-a-half foot red plastic pipe dubbed "Bongzilla" leaned against a doorway. The only wall decoration, besides a Ren & Stimpy poster, was a Twister game mat nailed up in its entirety, presumably for high-schoolish humor's sake. 

When I'd met Billie Joe a few months earlier at a campus concert, his hair was dyed lime-green and featured squidlike tufts. Now it was dark brown, with only two tufts remaining, and both his ears and nose had piercings. Periodically during the interview, he'd ram a finger into that pierced nostril, rummage around, then stare idly at the resultant booger before flicking it on to the carpet. Cool wandered out of the rec room for several minutes, but returned, red-eyed, to proudly proclaim, "Lookit me! I'm stoned, dude!" Dirnt--when he wasn't strumming an acoustic guitar--kept watching their windowsill Sea Monkey tank, finally noting, "Hey, these Sea Monkeys look just like sperm!" 

Despite all these schoolboy, poo-poo wit trappings (dookie, after all, is kiddie slang for excrement), there was a sense of seasoned wisdom about them, a feeling that they were, as Cavallo postulated, truly old souls. Like the class clown who frustrates all of his teachers by also maintaining a 4.0 grade average, Green Day can afford to play because their work--brilliantly skewed three-minute pop songs, delivered with such vehemence and vitriol you don't dare doubt them--certainly speaks for itself. But, sooner or later, of course, the band has to speak for itself, too, so what follows is a set of excerpts from that first ratty-digs meeting, as well as a later chat with Billie Joe, sans sidekicks. How did Green Day take over the rock world in less than a year? That's the six-million-copy question, and hopefully we'll provide a few answers. 

* * * 

So punk is back, whether America likes it or not? 

BILLIE JOE: It's always been around, and everyone has their own interpretation of it. It's weird to actually call it "punk" again, when it's been there all the time. 

MIKE DIRNT: It's been springing up in little suburban areas, where people grab it and express themselves. 

TRE COOL: It's people who make a point of setting aside all responsibilities and just playing music. And doing fat joint after fat joint--you have to let go of things like paying rent, going to school, having a job. 

BJ: And, if you can't tell by my house, we don't have a very high standard of living. 

How does today's punk rock differ from its late-'70s cousin?

 BJ: I think it was all about art and fashion back then, really, because everyone who was a punk in England was in art school. I read an early interview with Dee Dee Ramone, where he said he wished the Ramones had more of a glamorous appeal, too, instead of playing in jeans and leather jackets. But it was definitely about fashion, until the Clash really brought out the political side. Our music came from being bored in the 'burbs. You get put in this high school situation, where you're learning someone else's rules in a room with 30 other people that you don't really like. There's nothing interesting about it whatsoever, so you pick up a guitar instead. 

But you all tried college, at least for awhile, right? 

MD: And then we started touring. Constantly. 

TC: So most of our reading now comes from highway signs. 

MD: It's the old grasshopper and the ant story. The thought of actually working is just so... 

TC: Sickening! 

MD: Yeah. So we put everything we had into not working. This is what I do best, and I was always told, "If you're gonna do something, do it the best you can." So why not do the best thing you can, too? 

You guys--at least Mike and Billie Joe--have known each other since you were 10? 

BJ: And the first conversation we ever had was about writing songs. And then we just started playing music. 

A lot of the stuff on your early Lookout! records shows what was on your mind at the time--namely, girls. 

BJ: That was pretty much the viewpoint of a 16-year-old kid. I don't write stuff like that anymore. The new songs are more about coming of age and being apathetic and neurotic.

 Where were your parents when you were touring [at age 16]? 

MD: At work, doing their own thing. 

BJ: My mom's worked a waitress job for like the past 40 years or something, and whatever I was doing was OK with her. 

MD: I moved out when I was 15, and I worked all the way through high school. 

BJ: And me, I've never held a job longer than two weeks. I tried to flip pizzas--it didn't work. I tried cleaning toilets in the Red Onion in El Sobrante. Me and TrŽ, we used to work for the SF Chronicle, selling papers. I sold three the first day, and the next day we just smoked pot, and we smoked pot the next day after that. So we had hella extra papers lying around. Our ultimate goal wasn't to get rich or famous or anything like that. It was to not have a regular job and not be miserable. 

MD: And I've lived in every city around here, except for Albany. Literally. And one thing we want to establish about ourselves is that we're just a bunch of geeks from the suburbs. 

Well, one of the first times I saw you, you guys were closing your set with Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger." That's pretty geeky. 

MD: I grew up on radio--that's all I had. When I was a little kid, I couldn't afford records. I'll tell you, I've been down to a dollar in my pocket a lot of times. I've even lived in my truck. I can remember shooting rats with a BB gun in the flat we used to live in, before they'd make it to our food. 

BJ: I've always been really good about saving. If I got some money, I'd put it away instead of spending it, and I'd buy ramen. 

Why name your disc Dookie? 

TC: Warner's said we could do anything we want, as long as we didn't say "Cop Killer." 

BJ: Somebody told our manager that the ad for it was the most tasteless thing they'd ever seen in Billboard magazine. 

What exactly do you mean on Dookie by "Welcome to Paradise"? 

BJ, MD, TC [in unison]: West Oakland! 

MD: Living in West Oakland, and going out to parties every night. 

So it cost, what, around $100,000 to make Dookie? 

MD: Yeah. We kept the advances low, because you gotta pay all that shit back. Everyone knows you can't become an instant millionaire just by signing, because there are so many people that want a piece of you. 

BJ: We hang out with mostly punks though, and they don't want anything we have. They could care less. And a lot of our friends don't even agree with us being on a major label. 

Is Green Day angry? 

BJ: No, I'm not angry, like, walking around all the time with a frown on my face. But the way my music is interpreted is very angry. 

MD: When you feel really strongly about something, you want to let it out in the most powerful way possible. 

Like the way you baited your old high school principal from the Warfield stage recently? 

MD: I think he was an asshole. He treated me with no respect. And for high school initiation, we got our heads shaved--that's the kind of small-town shit we had to deal with! Sometimes they made you push a penny up the street with your nose. But that's life, and anywhere you go, you're gonna hate a lot of shit in your life. You'll be handed

Dookie? 

MD: Yeah. Yeah, you'll be handed dookie through all parts of your life. And see, what you need to do is just deal with the dookie, build upon what you have, and make something out of the dookie, you know? Like an adobe dookie building! 

* * * 

Several months later, and Dookie is oozing its gooey way into the public consciousness big time. The fading summer heat sticks crackling to the Berkeley sidewalks as punks--many sporting monstrous green or fuchsia mohawks--zing by on skateboards by day, and huddle in Telegraph Avenue doorways by night, conserving feral body heat the whole time. It feels like another world here, a throwback to the Bay Area's DIY/hardcore scene of the early '80s, when squatters reigned supreme and burlesque Broadway--fueled by all-ages shows at the Mabuhay Gardens, On Broadway, and even an occasional GBH or UK Subs booking at the Stone--made weekend conversions to "Punk Playground, USA." It was the best of times; it was the worst of times--despite relentless touring, most of these bands sold bupkus in the way of records, and few, save Metallica, ever held pen in shaky hand over a major-label contract. 

Billie Joe saunters into the Berkeley coffeehouse in rumpled jeans and a grease-spattered flannel shirt; his once-green-and-tufty tresses have grown out into Wally Cleaver waves and been dyed a Rod Stewarty blond. He looks like one of those feisty punks of yore; like he could hold his own through sheer physical endurance in the wildest of thrash pits. There's a new authority about him, the way he strides confidently to the counter, orders a pint-size glass of coffee, then swims through a sea of late-lunching yuppies to grab a table. The singer doesn't seem to notice them at all. Or maybe he's just too tired from nonstop touring to really give a shit. He smiles a goofy grin, revealing a set of generally crooked or chipped choppers, with an entire half of one front tooth missing. But there's such charisma behind it, the same kind of "Who, me?" innocence that little kids use. Billie Joe, you might say, has quickly become the Bart Simpson of the alternative set. 

How else could you explain his uncensored performance at a certain outdoor arena where--in a hyperspeed set lasting only 30 minutes before management threatened to pull the plug--he a) unzipped his fly and paraded his privates around for all to see; b) handed a stunned fan his beat-up, sticker-plastered guitar and urged him to play it; c) destroyed a $600 microphone by smashing it into the stage, then destroyed a second mike he was handed as well; and d) encouraged half the venue to chant, "Rock 'n' roll!" and the other half to respond with, "Shut the fuck up!" He then closed the show with a proposition--"They'll be really angry with us, but what we could do is rip out the seats!" he told the audience, which promptly gave Green Day a standing ovation. Billie Joe not only shrugs off such shenanigans as artistic license, he gets away with them! He's even encouraged to continue by fans who empathize with his uppity "fuck authority" attitude. 

But the facts were all on the table as Billie Joe sipped his house blend that afternoon, and it didn't take a fortune teller to read 'em. Green Day was hitting big time. Fast. And the sheer enormity of the undertaking, the weight of all its accordant responsibility, was just beginning to hit him. He looked older, wiser, and spoke in more grownup tones about his future, which then included a pending marriage to longtime girlfriend Adrienne. You could practically feel this new maturity encircling him like some protective aura. 

* * * 

=Where do all these punks on Telegraph come from? They can't all be local and homeless. 

I think Telegraph has just become this cultural mecca for punk rockers, because most of 'em who are on the Avenue aren't even from here. They're from Arizona, Minneapolis, New York, Florida. They just come out and end up squatting in houses in Berkeley. Why here? It's the climate, and the scene itself--Gilman Street and Maximum Rock 'n' Roll are in this area, and have a link to each other. But at the same time, it's separated, because there are so many different factions of punk now. There are the squatters, the pop-cores, the mods, the crusties. And all these types of people come out just to check it out. Plus, there's the best coffee in Berkeley, and a lot of 'em are real super coffee-drinkers, just pounding cup after cup all the time. It's pretty rare to come across a punk who doesn't drink coffee. I can't drink too much coffee myself--it gives me the shakes at night, so I just have a little bit during the day. Then I can smoke dope and go to bed. 

=What's the attraction in squatting or homelessness for these kids? 

For a lot of 'em, it's the first sense of freedom that they've had. It's like, "You mean I don't have to be home by midnight?" They've pretty much told their families and schools to go fuck themselves, so they go off and do their own thing. When I was 17, I did the same thing. And I had this total sense of freedom, where no one's telling you what to do, you don't have a clock to punch in on, you don't have people breathing down your neck; you don't have any deadlines to meet. You have this endless schedule where you can stay up all night drinking with your friends, or do anything you want. 

=But isn't "Coming Clean" about leaving behind your wilder ways? 

It's also about coming to grips with your sexuality. There's one line, "Skeletons come to life in my closet." And it's like, "Am I homosexual or heterosexual?" You go through this adolescent stage in your life where you don't really know what you are, and one side is taboo because your parents brought you up to think being gay was wrong. And if you come to grips with yourself, that you happen to be gay or bi or whatever, well, that was one thing about punk that was so accepting--all creeds were welcome, all sexualities, everything. 

=Was this something you went through personally? 

Yeah, to a certain extent. But I don't want to go around waving a gay flag or anything. 

=Well, you had a beautiful girl on your arm backstage at the last Green Day show. 

That's Adrienne. She's cool. Actually, we're engaged. That's why it took me so long getting here today--I had to get this! [Rolls sleeve up on tattooed arm, points to a bandaged-on cotton swab] Blood test, dude! We're getting married next week! 

=Has anybody tried to tell you you're too young for such a serious move? 

Of course. There are a lot of people who've said stuff. My parents have been a little more understanding than her parents. I just called my mom yesterday and said, "Mom, I'm gettin' married," and she said, "That's fine, son. Have fun!" I can hardly surprise my mother nowadays. But [this relationship] has been a recurring thing for the past four years, and we just decided to get serious about it. She's coming out here, and we're moving in together, so it's like, "Why not?" I don't really have any wild oats to sow, or anything like that. I'm not into the "Gettin' chicks all the time" thing.

 =I know a lot of girls who'll be really bummed that you're gittin' hitched. They all seem to have developed a crush on you... 

Me?! It must be the teeth [grins again].

 =OK, so maybe you didn't brush often enough when you were young. But you were busy developing a direction... 

I wouldn't necessarily say I had a direction or anything. I just knew I wanted to write songs. It comes from...uh...I don't know. I have no idea. It wasn't any kind of cosmic force or anything like that; it was just a matter of having a guitar around and wanting to play it all the time. I've had the same guitar since I was 11--I bought it off this guy at a guitar store. And I still play it--you know, the blue one with stickers all over it? That's my blue guitar, and, for some reason, things come to life, and everyone calls it "Blue" now--"Where's Blue? Can I pick up Blue and play it?" 

=And you let just anybody touch it? 

Oh yeah! Blue's not prejudiced. 

=It's interesting to note that the general public seems to think Dookie is your debut. 

Yeah, but that's just the general public. There are people who've been with us since the beginning, who know how long we've been around, since our first 7-inch came out back in '89. 

=And now you can afford to trash pricey microphones. 

Actually, Warner Brothers paid for those. It was pretty nice of 'em. They looked really nice--I remember looking at 'em and thinking, "Nice microphones!" They gave me one mike and I took it and threw it down, and they gave me another, and at the end of the set I creamed it pretty hard, I guess. We toured Europe with this band Die Toten Hosen--we played nine dates with 'em--and we got charged for a microphone every night. I dunno, for some reason we just started smashing shit. We'd start throwing equipment around at the end of each set, and these kids would start grabbing Tre's drum set and throwing it, and then they started smashing the microphones too. And the bouncers just couldn't do anything about it. 

=And you actually yanked your dick out onstage too? 

I did. Totally. It was the real thing. I dunno. The bands that we were playing with were just boring. It was more like making a mockery of the whole thing. The big arena rock thing is just so dated now, like Journey or Queen. Which is why I think punk rock started to begin with--it was this reaction to all the dinosaur bands. So for me, that show was, "How can we make a complete mockery of this but at the same time have fun with it?" I like to leave people guessing, "Did he hate that or did he like that?" It's not that I don't care--it's more that I'm careless. I try to be as happy-go-lucky as I can, but you can become apathetic at the same time. 

=Do you feel like Green Day is a part of, or represents, the so-called "slacker generation"? 

There's one side of me that doesn't mind it, because it's a generational thing, and another side of me that says, "Fuck that!" The reason I wrote the songs is, I ended up going back to Rodeo, where I'm from, for a week. And then I said, "Fuck it," and left. But I managed to get several good songs out of it. A lot of my friends had just turned into complete burnouts. And these are kids I've known since kindergarten, because it's a small town and you know everybody. And it was all fixing cars, staying up all night on methamphetamines, smoking dope, and finding out all these rumors about people I haven't heard of in 10 years. Like, "Oh, did you hear about so-and-so, who got married, had three kids, and ended up shooting everybody in his family?" And it happened! It was a true story! You're there for one week, and you get caught up in it. You get so bored, all you wanna do is watch television. And there are no record stores, nothing around, so you end up hanging out with all these delinquents who aren't punkers at all, just cultural idiots. So I was watching all these people rot and rotting with them until I realized, "Shit! I gotta get the fuck outta here!" 

=As they say, you can never go home again. 

Oh yeah, definitely. Unless you get pregnant, like my sister did. Then you have to go. But I quit school my senior year--I just wasn't getting anything out of it. I was taking nine periods a day, plus night classes, which left me no time to smoke dope whatsoever. And my mom even suggested I drop out, because she was a dropout, too. I come from a long line of dropouts. I still have nightmares about being late with my homework assignments. When I finally went in to sign out of high school, the teacher went, "Now, who are you again?" 

=And if that teacher could see you now! 

A lot of people think you get this big connection with a corporate label, and you make millions of dollars, but they don't understand that you just don't make that much money. And when you do, it's easy to piss it away. I mean, every cent that I've made, I've pissed away. I'm not gonna say how I did it, but I don't have it But I don't think you necessarily have to be a punk to decide to say, "Fuck it." You don't even have to have a direction. It's just a matter of getting the fuck out and exploring things for yourself. 

=But didn't you feel abject terror when you first set out on your own? 

Nah, I didn't. Because, for some reason, I knew things were gonna be all right. You can create your own future as long as karma's on your side. And I'm a strong believer in karma. I think things can come back to you if you're just willing to give. 

* * * 

True enough. At least six million times over!

1995 Tom Lanham

[taralovepoetry]

a short strange story

It’s feels like a century since I began my career here at Penn State Asylum. 10 years since I received that pivotal degree that provided escape from a terribly broken marriage, I was no longer safe. I spend all of my days here, healing broken minds. Better save them with the blessings of health that have been bestowed upon mine.

“Tara, there’s a new intern,” hearing Amelia’s, the only other nurse in this ward’s, voice, I look up from my computer monitor (yes, an old computer because we can’t carry around any technology). “This is Ms. Dein Arzt.” She seems nice and she compliments my bright white lab coat.

Amelia is palpably apprehensive and her eyes are shifty. I would know, as a doctor, these things. We make small talk as Deine prepares  and I mention the shortage of interns recently, how none seem to stay past spring. From the way her arms tense up, maybe it’s a higher level issue, but she’s definitely hiding something. She confesses to me that Deine is actually a patient who believes she is a doctor due to her schizophrenia. Poor thing.

I greet Deine (she seems wary, but I would be too), of course, and give her a tour of the ward as well as an introduction to each patient. I know each one personally, being their only doctor. Patients like Hin, who has lost his short-term and long-term memory and eats exclusively sandwishes shaped like collars. Trinker aus Blut who believes herself to be a vampire. She’s been acting up again. We’ll have to lock her.

I make a call to Amelia to lock her room before we resume. The way Deine takes notes, she could have been an excellent student, the way she picks up on cues. “You must be an excellent doctor, to sleep and live with your patients every single day.” I have almost forgotten about that. I live with my patients to better understand their conditions and I even have my very own room, 1662.

Amelia calls me in to review her case and I dismiss Deine. The details of this girl, unusually young, are heartbreaking. She was abused by her father causing split personality disorder and lost her daughter which solidified her schizophrenia. Hearing her story makes me uncomfortable and, suddenly, the room is too stuffy. I feel claustrophobic. I have to escape. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to breathe anything, but musty air. I tell Amelia, but she insists that I stay, that there’s a terrible storm outside and the roads are much too dangerous and reminds me that I don’t have a ride. How kind of her. It’s strange though because I should have heard that on the news, but I must have been too busy. Besides, with the lack of windows in this place, I can’t remember the last time I saw the light of day.

Reluctantly, I return to room 1662 for bed. I wake up, eat breakfast, and decide to check on Amelia. I see her speaking to Deine in a room. Amelia’s eyes are red, puffy, and kind of... listless? They’re talking about the danger of this girl’s curious case, how previous doctors have been injured at her hands, by her mind. Wait, is that my case file? What is Amelia doing, showing a patient her own case? That sneaky witch must be one of those extremely persuasive patients and smart enough to catch Amelia in her tired state too. I stride in and grab the file from her filthy, undeserving hands. Amelia claims to have only been introducing a new method of care, but she of all people should understand professional boundaries. I dismiss her, but I’ll be keeping a close eye because Deine seems like a risky patient.

I’ve woken up and I don’t think it’s quite morning or else Hin’s screeching would be impossible to miss. Not to mention, he likes starting earlier these days. I creep, because it seems less intrusive, to the main hall and take a nice walk. It’s been a while since I’ve walked alone at night. I think I’ve just spotted Deine and Amelia again. The patients must be giving her nightmares and I think I had nightmares when I first came too. “Don’t worry about this,” comforts Deine, “I’m a professional.” This is it. I have not worked 10 years to have a crazy patient come in and claim what I worked so incredibly hard for. I know I should be professional, but Deine is the last straw. I sprint for her and jump. I am seething, seeing red, and all of a sudden I see blood and scratched skin. Has that stupid bitch hurt me? I call for the guards just as she does, but they aren’t listening to me. They think I’ve injured her! They try to get me, but I slip out of their arms. What is going on? Are they all under her control? Why are they screaming “Patient 134″?

I run and run and run until I see a room and dive in. This is my secret hiding place. I haven’t even told Amelia about it because this is where I talk to Nicole, my friend. We’ve always been friends, but we became especially close within the ward’s grey walls. The building is in code blue now. They say patient 134 has been lost and I realize they’re talking about me. God, they’re all going insane. I’m a doctor here for goodness’ sake. I just noticed the window behind me. It really sucks that I don’t have a window in my rooms, or really any rooms for the matter. Wait, it’s perfectly sunny and cloudless outside. Why did Amelia tell me there was a storm? I’ve just come to the revelation. I’m living a lie. They have all scammed me. I’ve been kidnapped! They must let me go! I hear a scream and realize that it has come from Nicole and the guards have heard. What is she doing? I must silence her, so I turn around to face her and throw a punch, but I hear a crack and shards of glass fall apart. Now my hands are bloody. I feel dizzy and confused- and suddenly a prick.

I have woken. I am trapped in this padded room. The same kind that they keep Trinker aus Blut in. I don’t understand. I must leave, so I scratch and claw, but nothing works. Amelia comes in and tells me that my new room is for me to heal from the injuries that Deine caused and she also gives me pills, the newest type for healing. I swallow them and, as I do, she looks at me half pitiful, half fearful. I don’t really understand, but I am now tired and must rest.

In hindsight, I see it now, how insanity had already molded itself into the little holes of sweet Tara’s mind that were bore out of loneliness from losing her daughter and depression, from the abuse from her father.

- Dr. Amy Smith, Tara’s former doctor

[gravitascivics]

A STEP FROM CALVINISM

This blog will now turn to an effort this writer will revisit in the future.  He fears he might have misled the reader of this blog a bit and this effort is meant to clear any misconceptions.  He has repeatedly claimed that the US had as a dominant view of governance and politics what he calls the parochial/traditional federalism view or construct.  He described that view in more or less positive language although he has pointed out that it encouraged or justified Americans holding racist and other xenophobic beliefs, attitudes, and values.  

He didn’t underestimate those negative qualities, but he did want to make sure the reader appreciates its positive qualities.  The positive qualities have to do with the construct’s set of espoused values of community, partnership, and collaboration.  But at the same time, people who held on to its espoused values made no excuses for the exclusionary policies its adherents proposed and maintained. Those policies included slavery, discriminatory practices, and other exclusionary behaviors Americans commonly put into effect.

Probably the most direct and unambiguous pronouncement of this exclusion can be found in the Supreme Court’s decision in the Dred Scott Case. Chief Justice Taney clearly states that African Americans – be they enslaved or not – were not part of the partnership the Constitution established.   Here is a portion of that decision:

In the opinion of the court, the legislation and histories of the times, and the language used in the declaration of independence, show, that neither the class of persons who had been imported as slaves, nor their descendants, whether they had become free or not, were then acknowledged as a part of the people, nor intended to be included in the general words used in the memorable instrument … [1]

Taney here is not shy of what he interpreted the founding compact to be in terms of African Americans.

And a lot of this exclusion falls in line with certain religious biases generally held but originating with the Puritan settlers of the Massachusetts colony and, in general, in the New England.  It was the Puritans who introduced the covenanted approach to the establishment of governments.  

Puritanism was based on Calvinism that, in turn, believed in strict moral precepts, predestination, and a rebellion against adorned trappings and the hierarchical organization of the Roman Catholic and Anglican Churches.  Through these beliefs, that tradition promoted an equality within its congregations and as interpreted in governance, this sense of partnership was strongly encouraged but as indicated years later by Taney’s opinion, was limited to those considered part of the “tribe.”

Such scholars as Donald Lutz[2] have traced how these precepts, especially those based on congregational ideals, worked their ways into the various founding documents.  These documents were drawn in the localities within the original thirteen colonies.  One can also detect them guiding the development of the states as the nation initially established its governments and expanded westward across North America.

This posting begins this writer’s effort to take a closer look at that historical record.  The postings that will further this effort will not be immediately follow each other (although the next posting, at least, will continue this posting’s message). Instead, this topic will be revisited here and there but with more frequency in the upcoming year or so.  

This first installment looks at the effect of this tradition on the development of the nation’s public schools.  And the first topic has to do with the hiring of teachers.  By the 1820s, school officials were finding it difficult to fill teaching slots in what had been a male dominated “profession.”  The problem was a reluctance to raise either taxes or church contributions to pay men sufficiently.  

The option was to hire women to those positions.  In terms of timing, this coincided with the efforts to establish independent public schools especially in Massachusetts and through the work of Horace Mann.  His story is telling in terms of how parochial/traditional federalism influenced the development of the nation’s initial efforts to provide public education.

And it is with him that this blog begins its look at this development. Relevant to this story, Mann was elected to the lower house of the Massachusetts’ legislature in 1827.  His political leanings encouraged him to join up with the initial political organizing that led to the establishment of Whig Party. This was a movement that brought together socially liberal advocates with northeastern business interests.

They were liberal in that they pushed for the establishment of insane asylums and for public funding of schools for the deaf and blind.  He himself argued for an end to the death penalty and doing away with lotteries as being unchristian.  He attained a level of notoriety when he was assigned to investigate the burning of a Catholic convent in the town of Charleston.  This led to his political advancement that resulted in his election to the state senate.

An ironic aspect of his story was his belief in phrenology – the belief in and analysis of people’s physical attributes as causal factors in their behaviors.  He, unlike others who looked at such characteristics, used the derived analyses as a way to discover potential shortcomings in people that could be addressed by education.  

That is, “[d]uring the nineteenth century, phrenology was considered a progressive ideology.  Its proponents believed that each individual’s deficiencies could be identified, then ameliorated through schooling; … [and therefore] would eradicate poverty and crime in just a few generations.”[3]  Interestingly, he saw the utilization of phrenology as a substitute for the prevailing reliance on religion to guide such judgements.  Further, through that guidance one could lead challenged individuals – even arsonists – to productive lives.

This bent in his public acts did not go unnoticed by local religious personage and elicited a fire-and-brimstone sermon reaction from the local Calvinist preacher.  But the experience led Mann to take up education as an issue that would lead him to establish his place in American history.  School reform became his life’s work.  And in this he bucked the thrust of Whigs who favored laissez faire policies in the economy and other social areas of concern.  

By the late 1830s he was leading Whigs to establish a state board of education to oversee Massachusetts’ local schools and to institute compulsory education.  By that time, as a state senator, he left the legislature to become the first state’s secretary of education.  He took it upon himself to become versed in educational theories and looked to reputable systems particularly Prussian schools.  That European system in the nineteenth century instituted various policies to upgrade the teaching profession including higher pay and prohibition of teachers holding other jobs.

From the Prussian example, Mann instituted the policy for the Massachusetts’ school system that every school have a library and that the state established “normal schools” for the purpose of training teachers.  Again, normal schools were originally only open to women applicants – the reasoning being women could be paid less than men. Later in the twentieth century, these schools were converted into regional state colleges (having lower admission standards than state universities).

Unfortunately, much of Mann’s reasoning for these sexist policies had to do with his sexist beliefs.  While he saw teaching as a woman’s profession, albeit economic reasoning was offered, he also believed women were not appropriate for certain occupations such as politics, military, and journalistic professions – they were not suitable due to their “black and sulfurous” environments.

All these elements of the Mann’s story were instrumental in defining how Calvinist traditions and biases affected the development of American education. The aim is to give the reader some of the detail of how this influence was felt and give a hint, at least, as to why it finally gave way to the natural rights view.  There were various social and political forces that pushed toward the eventuality of that transformation.

[1] “Dred Scott v. Stanford, (19 HOWARD 393 (1857)),” in Major Problems in American Constitutional History, Volume I: The Colonial Era Through Reconstruction, ed. Kermit L. Hall (Lexington, MA:  D. C. Heath and Company, 1992), 463-470, 465.

[2] Donald S. Lutz (ed.), Colonial Origins of the American Constitution:  A Documentary History (Indianapolis, IN:  Liberty Fund,1998).

[3] Dana Goldstein, The Teacher Wars:  A History of America’s Most Embattled Profession (New York, NY: Doubleday, 2014), 23.  The historical information in this posting is drawn from this source.

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

Marcel Herman:

Marcel Herman is a warlock and a former teacher from Hawthorne’s School For Extraordinary Young Men.

Do. Not. Trust. This. Man...

He’s almost worse than Damien, and as slimy as he is. Since after all, Marcel is the one who taught Damien the most at Hawthorne,  he encouraged his prowess and taught him quite a few of his sick values. He told Damien to be better than the witches, to take what he needed and wanted and to not let anyone else take it away from him. But it’s this kind of attitude that got him fired from Hawthorne as John Henry thought that he was a horrible influence on their students, and too ‘fucked up’ for them.

And he’s also a complete asshole to both Amy and Shinsou, and a misogynist as he thinks that the witches are nothing but ‘self-righteous cows’, but something of a racist as he mocks Amy and Shinsou by saying ‘I thought your people were supposed to be smart’.

Marcel is someone I wanted to be a very, VERY bad man, as he embodies some of the worst in humanity. I thought about Aizawa and All-Might and how Horikoshi writes them as good, compassionate teachers because they ARE. And I made Marcel the complete opposite, because sometimes other characters can give you ideas for a similar or opposite character. Marcel is the complete opposite of those two.

He’s a grown-man who knows how children’s minds work for the most part, and knows how they’re much more emotional and less put-together than adults like him are, and uses that to his advantage. He’s extremely toxic, horrible and sick-minded as well, and he’s got no excuse either, he simply feels entitled and insane enough to believe that his ideals are what’s going to make the world ‘better’ even though he literally wants to spread his poison to the world because he believes that his influence is what’s going to make everything ‘right’. Even though his influence involves literally poisoning everyone, to create ‘newer and better beings’ while killing off the originals and allowing him to seize control and power over them.

Story: 

He first appears to Amy and Shinsou during the former’s days in isolation at her mansion, particularly after Shinsou’s time during the Joint Training Arc. Amy and Shinsou were merely spending a day together as Madison, Mallory and Coco were spending a day together in Tokyo to relax. Amy spotted the mysterious warlock outside her gates and she instantly attacks upon seeing him. However, Marcel attempts to appeal to her by saying he means no harm and wishes to speak with the only other young witch in Japan. Naturally, Shinsou is skeptical of him and tells her that he has to be some evil old bastard, although Amy wants to hear him out since she assumed that she, Madison, Mallory and Coco were the only witches in Japan. Marcel requested help with an experiment, but Amy got a bad vibe from him and told him to leave as she only helps if someone is going to die.

Taking her remark literally, he uses his giant squid-like monster to enrapture Shinsou into it’s tentacles much to his shock and horror and remarks to Amy that ‘now someone is going to die’. 

Alarmed and disgusted, Shinsou attempts to break free from the tentacles that wrapped around his torso, until Marcel warns him that it’s a ‘bad idea’, and Amy immediately tries to attack the warlock, but he immediately stops her attack via Concilium. Marcel then gives Amy an ultimatum, as he wanted her to retrieve DNA from a student of 1-A or any powerful individual for him to keep for an experiment, otherwise he’ll wake up his dormant monster to strangle, kill and impregnate Shinsou.

Panicking and not wanting to imagine that horrible fate, Shinsou screams for Amy to get someone’s DNA fast as the tentacles were beginning to wrap themselves tighter around him. Marcel gave Amy no choice, as the witch ran every way, which way to find DNA from a classmate, and eventually but reluctantly settled on retrieving DNA from Todoroki, who offered a few strands of his hair for her to use.

Although Amy didn’t explain herself, she cheerfully took the DNA pieces and gave it to Marcel. But when Amy demands that he free Shinsou, Marcel admits that he lied about letting him live and awoke his monster and had gotten ready to kill and impregnate Shinsou, only for Amy to intervene and pry it away from his body with her telekinesis. Unfortunately, this angered Marcel as he fought with her, using his monster as his back-up as a horrified Shinsou picked himself up to help his friend.

Their efforts were good, but Marcel proved to be a very effective and experienced warlock as he used the ground to trap Shinsou and exerted his powerful Concilium over Amy. Marcel talks about his plans to use UA as his new ‘lab’ since he wanted to use the students and teachers for his sick experiments and offer them up as bait and ‘hosts’ for his squid monster much to Amy’s horror.  

Marcel attempted to appeal to her by the use of emotional manipulation by tricking her into believing she wanted them to suffer, but Amy, who knew she never wanted that, calls him sick as she becomes all the more determined to stop him. Only for a sadistic Marcel to tell her that she will never save her friends as his squid monster approaches her and he told it to kill her. Thankfully, Iida and Yaoyorozu had arrived to visit Amy at her mansion to check up on her, but Marcel seizes the opportunity to attack them as he immediately goes after them. The two teens quickly fight back as soon as Marcel threatens them, but Marcel is much too powerful as he takes Yaoyorozu hostage and his monster traps Iida. 

Fearful for her friend’s lives, this gives her the boost of adrenaline to use her telekinesis to make her dagger stab Marcel in the back, forcing him to let go of Yaoyorozu and using all her might to retract the monster with Sentio Compassios to free Iida. Marcel tried to plead with her to let him go, but an enraged Amy threw him and his monster at an extremely far distance. As Amy frees Shinsou from the ground and rescues Iida and Yaoyorozu, she tearfully hugs her friends who quickly console her.

Personality:

Marcel calls himself ‘man of science’ as he utilizes both magic and science together, believing it to be the only way to ‘change the world’, and views himself as a visionary because he thinks that his fucked up ideas are the only thing that can make the world better. But in actuality he’s a twisted, vile man who has no empathy for anybody or any other humans, including his fellow warlocks and witches as he deemed the other warlocks as ‘idiots’ for not believing in his insane ideals.

His lack of empathy is shown when he not only threatens Shinsou’s life but when he laughs at Amy’s hopelessness and tears when she thought Shinsou was going to be killed. Marcel is not exactly a sociopath as he understands empathy from other people, and uses it against them, but does not seem capable of it himself and is far too self-centered to feel genuine affection for anybody else. Although he is fond of his squid-like creature, calling it his ‘child’.

Despite this disturbing trait, Marcel is somewhat kooky and eccentric as he has a very dry but messed up sense of humor as he cracked very bad jokes about Shinsou’s situation when he had his squid trap him. And is also sarcastic as he can taunt and mock other heroes who approach him.

Marcel is also unbothered by horrifying things that others have done, as he is aware of others who have performed human experimentation such as Overhaul and Dr. Ujiko. He showed little to no shock, and instead noted that they were ‘sloppy’ in the execution of their ideas since they got caught by the heroes, but at the same time thought that they had the right ideas.

Marcel: (To Amy) Surely you know the name of the man Kai Chisaki?

Amy: (clenches her fists, tearing up when she thinks about Magne) Yeah… I do… he killed my friend… one of these days… he’s going to die for that…

Marcel: (not at all sympathetic) That man had quite an idea… I wouldn’t mind reverting the human population back to their natural states. Only us witches and warlocks should have the power after all so I give him those ‘mad props’… And Dr. Ujiko… (Amy looks confused) He’s a doctor too you see? He made those Nomu creatures you and your friends fought off… rather ugly in my opinion. But also…brilliant. It’s just that... how they did it was sloppy, very sloppy... child’s play even, I mean they got caught. What kind of villain gets caught? 

Marcel aimed to make his experiments better, taking new inspiration from the two villains. However, the mad scientist he felt the most inspired by was Dr. Arthur Arden/Hans Gruper, the nazi doctor who worked at the abandoned Briarcliff Manor asylum, but also viewed the serial killer Dr. Oliver Thredson/Bloody Face as an enlightened and fascinating man. These two individuals who were some of the most inhumane and vile human beings Amy had done her research on and despised with every ounce of her being as Dr. Arden was a Nazi, and Bloody Face was a serial killer and rapist.

The warlock wanted to be better than them, and so he did his own human experimentation, starting with a woman he felt an attraction to. He was fascinated by the squid species, particularly cuttlefish and octopuses. Through a series of magic, potions and a dead squid, he would kidnap the woman he felt attracted to and used her for his twisted experiments which is what resulted in the giant squid-like creature that accompanies him, as she ‘gave birth’ to the monster according to him. He fondly calls it ‘their child’ much to Amy’s immense disgust.

He’s extremely cruel by nature and has a sadistic side as he took joy in seeing Amy’s misery and fear over the lives of her friends, and even smiled when his creature almost killed Shinsou. As Marcel had no problem murdering people, including teenagers, and had no problem killing bystanders because he didn’t hesitate to attack and threaten the lives of Iida and Yaoyorozu. At those same times, Marcel also displayed a twisted sense of humor even as he was going to murder him in what would have been his final moments.

Marcel: (To Amy) Well! You succeeded and got me what I needed but because I need him more for my work and all... say good-bye to your friend. (To Shinsou) Just a warning kid it’s going to hurt like hell so... feel free to pray unless... you don’t do that of course not EVERYONE is religious but... either way it won’t help. (chuckles)

Shinsou: (being smothered by the creature as it prepares to impregnate him, his mouth covered by a strong appendage) NOOOOOOOOOO!!

He’s an arrogant man, arrogant enough to believe that his ideals and plans for humanity are going to make everything better. But he was also extremely proud of his skills as a warlock, as he claims that he was able to defeat John Henry Moore and Behold Chablis when they tried to confront him and he would have killed them had Cordelia not stepped in. Marcel’s arrogance is still apparent though, as he laughs off the pro-heroes as a joke when Iida and Yaoyorozu attempted to intimidate him when he caught them. 

However, Marcel is also extremely cowardly at the same time as he let his monster take care of Iida, while he himself held Yaoyorozu, a young girl, hostage. His cowardice shows when he pleaded for Amy to spare him despite what he did to her friends and as a result Amy threw him into the sky. Likewise,  he only came to Amy when other witches such as Madison, Mallory and Coco weren’t around and attacked her when she was alone and vulnerable because he knew that she and Shinsou wouldn’t have been able to take him on alone. A pragmatic move but also a display of cowardice as he also panicked when he thought that Madison or Mallory had returned.

Even though he’s a coward, Marcel is also a very vindictive and petty man, as he plans to get revenge on Amy after what she did to him and for foiling his ideas and is still currently out there. Plotting. As he still has Todoroki's DNA given to him by Amy as well as DNA from Amy herself and Shinsou.

Abilities:

Marcel appears to be a frail man, and is physically weak, but his magic is extremely powerful enough to take on more than 30 warlocks and witches all by himself. As he’s extremely proficient in Telekinesis, Concilium, Teleportation and Spellcraft, as well as Scrying as it’s what he used to find and track down Amy. 

Although he is mad, he was a pretty good scientist who created deadly potion, including one that allowed one to take the appearance of another using their DNA. Which is the potion that he forced Amy to help him make and later told her why he wanted someone else’s DNA. 

Another potion he created is what he claims to be the ‘cure to quirks’, as he felt inspired by Chisaki’s Quirk-Erasing Bullets, but named this potion the ‘Eradication’ potion. He designed it to be better, without relying on the DNA of another human to erase a quirk. As this potion can completely one’s DNA, eliminating their mutations and any semblance of supernatural or magic in them as he used the means of several spells and other antibodies to create it. He states that this potion will actually work on witches and warlocks, unlike the Quirk-Erasing bullets as he hypothesizes that they can’t work on witches or warlocks, since their magic comes from the light and other sources and not just their DNA.

And he also successfully created his squid-creature through horrible means to be both a pet and a killer of his enemies, but also act as a breeding mule to create ‘new beings’ and replicate the ones his squid impregnates.

So there he is... wow... he’s even worse than Damien... I hate him XD He’s stuck on an island but he’s going to come back... and I’m going to make sure he suffers I promise. I’m talking chainsaws.. because at the time Amy just wanted to get rid of him and rescue her friends, next time she sees him... it will NOT be pretty but it will be EPIC. 

[jeanvaljean24601]

The Umbrella Academy’ Season 2 Preview: Where Are the Hargreeves Now?

When “The Umbrella Academy” drops its second season on Netflix on July 31, it won’t find the Hargreeves as a united front fighting to stop the apocalypse — at least not right away. Instead, it’ll find the siblings thrown six decades back in time, separated and, in some cases, building their own lives apart from each other.

At a recent virtual junket, the cast and creator Steve Blackman previewed the second season, which was loosely inspired by the “Dallas” limited series of Gerard Way’s comic book and picks up after Five (Aidan Gallagher) throws the Hargreeves back in time to escape the apocalypse Vanya (Ellen Page) spawned in 2019. However, Five’s attempt to save them does have its hiccups, dropping them separately in Dallas over a three-year period from 1960 to 1963. It also messes with the timeline, causing another impending doomsday and involving complications with the assassination of John F. Kennedy — all things the Hargreeves will have to worry about once they get back together.

Blackman says he wanted to make it a bit “challenging” for everyone to find everyone once again, with some building new lives for themselves in the past, forging relationships with new characters, while others drop into Dallas later.

“Klaus starts a cult, Allison gets married, Luther finds a surrogate father,” he says. “It was really important to develop those stories. They were tricky, because you know, each of those new characters had to sort of still work within our world until the family finds themselves again and sort of regroups, probably even stronger than they did in Season 1.”

Allison (Emmy Raver-Lampman) is among the first to land, falling into Dallas in 1961 at the height of the Civil Rights Movement. In addition to being separated from her daughter and siblings and having lost her voice at the hands of Vanya at the end of Season 1, she also has to deal with “the reality of having a Black woman literally fall into the ’60s in the segregated South.” Allison is, Raver-Lampman explains, initially in shock. android tv box

“She might not know exactly where in the world she is, but I think she knows exactly where she’s not supposed to be because of the color of her skin,” she said. “Coming from the 21st century, I’m sure she has faced, you know, prejudice and microaggressions, and racism on some level. But immediately being threatened because of the color of her skin, I think, and legally not being allowed to be places — it has got to be absolutely terrifying.”

“I think she’s at a low in so many ways,” Raver-Lampson adds.

Luther (Tom Hopper), too, is dealing with “a big shock to his system.” Once something of a leader for the family, Luther’s now the driver for the owner of a burlesque bar, who becomes a father figure to him. While it’s an adjustment, Hopper says it presents an opportunity for Luther “to find his own identity outside of the academy,” and to learn what it’s like to have to work to make a living.

“I think he realizes that he was a bit too power-hungry, I suppose, and a lot of the decisions he made weren’t the best ones,” Hopper says. “It’s a big come down to Earth for Luther, I think, but also it’s something that he needed.”

Vanya, meanwhile, doesn’t even have the opportunity to process her actions at the end of Season 1 — because she’s almost immediately hit by a car and suffers memory loss, which is something of a blessing and a curse. She’s taken in by a family, finds a new love interest and, while she’s confused and lost, Page says it presents the opportunity to see a “very different” Vanya.

“She’s released a lot of emotion and repressed trauma, so we find her in a space that’s much lighter. She’s much more open, able to connect to her emotions,” she says. “I think of course it’s difficult for her because she’s feeling like, does anybody care? Is anybody trying to find me? And feeling lost in that sense. But in so many ways, she’s way less lost than she was in the first season.”

Diego (David Castañeda) drops into Dallas in 1963, and is thrown into an asylum because of his seemingly delusional claims of Kennedy being assassinated. He finds a friend in a new character named Lila, which turns into a Bonnie & Clyde-esque partnership, and also has a purpose to work toward.

“We find him lost, trapped in an insane asylum and obviously with a purpose of trying to maybe change the timeline, having the capability of proving his father wrong and also maybe understanding him a little bit,” Castañeda says. “And then everything just kind of goes bonkers when Five decides to show up again.”

Five is the last to land, and in the meantime, his siblings have done “considerable damage” to the timeline, Gallagher says. He’s left with several fires to put out, trying to stop the end of the world in the ’60s, while also needing to get back to 2019 and prevent the apocalypse there.

“He just gets progressively more and more stressed and as his anxiety builds up, so does the chaos behind his eyes,” he says. “That was very fun as an actor to see that sort of bubble over and really take over Five, and him really succumb to his suppressed insanity.”

The only two Hargreeves who start off together are, for obvious reasons, Klaus (Robert Sheehan) and the late Ben (Justin H. Min). They’re the first to land in the past, giving Klaus time to, well, become a cult leader. Although it might seem like he’s thriving, being an icon has it’s drawbacks, he’s realizing.

“The novelty of being adored and worshiped by all these thousands of people has sort of very, very quickly worn off and he realizes that being number one, if you will, is a real drag,” Sheehan says. “He’s sort of back to escaping again. It’s like sobriety was his cult in the first series, you know, and drugs was his escape, whereas his escape in the second series is just running with his legs.”

And although Ben is inevitably tied to Klaus because of the latter’s ability to communicate with the dead, Min teases that Season 2 will see him come into his own a bit, especially after Klaus and Ben combined their powers at the end of Season 1 to save the day. x96 max plus

“I think through the evolution and progression of Klaus’ powers, Ben gains a lot more agency and independence in the second season and is able to really fight for what he wants,” Min says.

And will audiences finally learn about Ben’s backstory and how he died? Min says “there are some hints” to what happened — but of course, he can’t reveal much.

“If I say anything more, I will be — ” he says, before Sheehan finishes for him, “assassinated. Like John F. Kennedy.”

[chick-with-flicks]

My name is Holly Whiting and this, is Grave Encounters.

Grave Encounters is a found footage horror film made in 2011, which was given a five star rating by The New York Press, they also labelled it “Paranormal Activity on steroids”… which doesn’t do the movie any justice because lets be honest, Paranormal Activity is pretty crap and comparing any film to it is cruel.

 While writing about the character Houston Gray, I noticed that some of the names in the movie weren’t changed from that of the actor and I felt that was a little lazy but overall, it was a good film.

The footage film starts like a regular ghost hunting show you’ll find on the channels that nobody watches, while in parts that the audience are supposed to see, the crew act very serious about the ghost hunting but we soon realise that they don’t actually believe any of it, even paying off the building’s gardener to say that he saw ghosts on the residence. The crew are shown about the building by the building owner and the caretaker before being locked in the building for an 8 hour lock in for recording. Before the time hits 12AM the crew does a sweep of the building for recording footage and nothing happens, the building is so uneventful that later on Lance states that “this place is as haunted as a sock draw”… not the best description I’ve ever heard but it gets the point across. The first paranormal event doesn’t occur until after 2AM where one of the windows opens by itself on the top floor, not that anyone sees it. Slowly things start to happen to the crew, all of them understandably getting freaked out. Eventually after getting too scared, camera man T.C Gibson (Merwin Mondesir) attempts to break the front door down to get out, only to find that the building seems to have completely changed. This moment in the film put me on the edge of my seat, this building was said to be built like a prison and now it’s keeping the crew as its new prisoners. It’s at this point where the crew realise that it should have gotten light outside already… but it hasn’t, the outside world is like a completely disconnected place. Nothing truly worth spoiling happens until our cast has been trapped for around 23 hours when they encounter their first demon, it’s a patient, her face shifts… and its actually pretty terrifying.

It was around this point in the movie where I nearly had a heart attack because I thought I could hear my dad asleep and snoring in his room, but it was still light outside and thought some trippy time stuff had happened, but thankfully it was the trick of my headphones and it was just mum trying to figure out how to use the pressure washer to clean the car.

Now, less of me being dumb and back to the movie. After being scared again, the crew (who have clearly never seen a horror movie before) run into a bathroom where they were told an ex patient killed herself in one of the bathtubs whichhhh is now filled with blood, from which a demon in the bath pulls T.C into it, Sasha and Lance tip the tub over to find both T.C and the demon to be gone without a trace.

Fast forwarding to the end of the movie so I don’t spoil the best parts, Lance, on the floor with his eyes bleeding does his outro to his show (like the dick he is), and the camera cuts. Amazing.

The first Character we meet in this film is Jerry Heartfield (played by Ben Wilkinson), the owner of the production company that the footage that the movie was made with was sent to. His company, according to Jerry, specialises in reality TV and Grave Encounters was supposed to be a ghost hunting show, they already had five episodes, episode six was supposed to be the footage in the film. Jerry is essential to the set up for the film, assuring the audience that this is “not a movie” and explaining how the film was only edited for time purposes. Unfortunately, this is all we see of Jerry but either way he was good for the set up of the movie and that’s all he was really needed for.

Lance Preston (Sean Rogerson) is the main character of the film, he’s the producer of the show and the main presenter of it. Lance is pretty chilled out for the duration of the film and pulls the douchebag move of recording the events of the whole ordeal, even after he’s had demons operate on him and he’s bleeding from the eyes (seriously dude?). His best scene in the movie is at the very end when he has gone insane and smashes a rat with a pole then starts eating it and yelling “fuck you”. Sean Rogerson deserved a medal for that part of the performance.

Our Third character is Sasha Parker (played by Ashleigh Gryzko), an occult specialist and co-presenter to Lance. First time watching this movie I hated her and honestly thought she deserved how she was getting it worse from the demons in comparison to anyone else but watching the movie thoroughly and taking notes for this review I realised she is clearly the only person in this film who has ever watched a horror movie. She mentions that splitting up is a bad idea and yells at lance to stop recording. Honestly, girl got brains. My favourite thing about her character is her dumb pout she does to the camera while Lance is talking. Most of the events in the movie seem to happen to her. The first thing to happen to her is tame, her hair is lifted by a spirit, they run and understandably she panics (though hearing that fast breathing nearly the whole film drives me nuts). Later on, in the film, Sasha wakes up with the word “HELLO” cut into her back (I mean they wanted ghost contact, didn’t they? Why are you complaining). Later on, in the movie she, and the people left with her wake up with hospital bands on and she freaks out, again! Even further on she gets grabbed by a ghost hand through a door. Toward the end of the film she starts coughing up blood which is kind of wasted when it comes to how she dies? She just disappears with some fog and its really anti-climactic considering how much she suffered in the film.

Fourth character in the film is Houston Gray (played by Makenzie Gray), is a ‘psychic’ that Lance invites on the show to try contact the ghosts. I use the term ‘psychic’ loosely because very quickly after he first appears we learn that its just an act, which amusingly through the movie, Lance cant decide when he should keep the act up or not, often telling him to “stay in character” or to knock it off. Clearly reading the room is second on the list of things he can’t do (because the character himself really can’t act). As a character Houston isn’t that important. You could take him out of the movie and not a lot of the atmosphere would change. He’s just kinda there until he gets separated from the group, then gets choked and yeeted down the hall by a ghost and then he’s gone for the rest of the film. I feel cruel saying it, but I was glad when he died because the character’s bad acting and psychic act as a whole really annoyed me.

Now it’s time for my favourite character, Matt White (played by Juan Riedinger, whom I discovered in this movie, is incredibly talented at playing an asylum patient). Matt is the crew’s Equipment Technician (you are the tech guy. You are the motherf**king tech guy) who handles the ghost finding technology such as cameras, voice recorders and Geiger counter. One of the first scenes that focus on Matt is where he’s setting up cameras in the asylum’s ‘hotspots’, his face is right up in the camera, later on after his transition to a patient he does the same thing before jumping down an elevator shaft and dying. Incredible cinematography in my opinion. Matt’s the first person to go missing in the movie but thankfully not the first to die. His character is used to foreshadow the fate of the characters with lines such as “ we can all leave as soon as we’re all better” and “he’ll help you too” (easy there Pennywise, I’m not floating yet!). The movie really feels scarier once the other characters are having to look after him like a helpless child and honestly, I love the character.

Finally, we have Doctor Arthur Friedkin (played by Arthur Corber), one of the doctors at Collinwood Psychiatric Hospital. Doctor Friedkin was infamous for the poor conditions his patients lived in and his experimental surgeries and lobotomies to try to treat his patients. He’s not alive in the film as he was stabbed to death by 6 of his patients that broke out of their rooms. Despite this he is still in the movie at the very end as one of the ghosts (an incredible scene might I add). In this film there are hints that he may be linked to occult or satanic rituals, but I’ve heard that that’s followed on in the second movie which I haven’t actually watched yet.

Overall I’ve got to say, I love this movie, some points are cliche, I’ll admit that but as far as fount footage, psychological horrors go, it’s a really good film and I completely recommend it. It’s not the scariest or most creative movie ever and the pacing at the end is a bit rushed, but I have it on DVD so it must be worth it. I even brought it to a friend’s place to watch with her and her dog and we’re both really excited to see the second film!

See Ya Later! ^-^

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Freaks” Part 1

Y/N is a metahuman with several peculiarities, but one could say the weirdest is her heart: it is gated by four locks that make it impossible for the woman to fall in love. Also one could say she’s manipulative, cunning and ruthless. Sounds familiar? Maybe that’s why The Joker is the perfect candidate to help her finally get something she always desired: a one of a kind heir.

“Yoooo-hoooooooooo, Mister Jooo-kkkeeerrr!!!!” Bane skips along the poorly lit corridor since it’s almost 11 at night and the Arkham inmates are supposed to be asleep. Yet they’re not: the ruckus woke them all up and now they are standing by the glass walls facing the hallway, wondering what the heck is going on.

The real Bane sighs, completely unappreciative of you borrowing his physical appearance.  

“Hey, cut it out!” he admonishes as Y/N passes by and she decides to stop for a moment.

“Hello there handsome,” you swing your hips while walking towards him and The Riddler snorts, entertained: his cell is right across so it’s not like he can miss the show.

“If you’re going to mimic me, don’t do stuff like that!” Bane hisses through his mask, irritated.

“Apologies honey,” you wink and continue. “Far from me to purposely chop your masculinity to pieces,” but seductively sway on the tip of the heavy boots, taunting more because... who’s going to stop you?

“Seriously?!” Bane growls and you cut him some slack, transforming into The Joker for a few seconds.

“Jeez, don’t get worked up,” you smirk and blow the green hair off your face. “I’m looking for this guy, I know he’s here too.”

“Why are you looking for him?” Killer Croc punches his fists together, hoping he can twist your presence in his favor.

“I need him for breeding purposes,” you serenely admit as The Clown Prince of Crime rolls his eyes three padded rooms up from your present location.

“I told you before I can help with that,” Harvey Dent flips his coin in the air, not understanding why his offer was rejected numerous times.

“Me too!” The Riddler grins. “You should forget about the man that repeatedly refuses your advances and pick one of us,” the mastermind gestures at the cells containing prisoners willing to take on the task.

“I want him,” you revert to your human form, Mr. Freeze gasping with admiration: he’s been a fan for the past two years. “He’s the only male I’m compatible with for procreation on this continent and nobody else will do.”

“How do you know?” Deadshot addresses the burning question.

“I just know, ok?” you pout not wishing to get into details. “That’s why I’m here to bail him out. I helped his men clear the area so we can rescue the father of my future baby.”

“Ugghhhh,” a displeased and very loud protest is heard from The Joker’s cell.

“There you are,” you light up with the happiest smile and abandon the captives held in pretty boxes lined up on the south side of Arkham Asylum.

“Hey Y/N,” Jonathan Crane smacks his lips, “if you get me out of here also I’ll give you two millions.”

“I’ll give you double!” The Penguin shouts and Bane promises:

“I’ll give you three!”

The offers keep on pouring in and the shapeshifter is not a person to say no to easy money.

“Might as well,” you press the yellow buttons outside everyone’s incarceration chambers, leaving the best for last.

“Hiiii Mister Jooooker,” you drag the words and he grumbles, squeezing past you as soon as the glass slides enough for him to emerge from the cell.

“Shut up!” he barks and you couldn’t care less about his crabbiness.

“Your crew is waiting outside,” you giggle and turn into Frost, escorting the grouchy Clown in the direction of the exit you know it’s safe to take.

“Would you look at that?” The Shark teases, not being able to contain his laughter.

“Holy shit!” Panda tries to keep it together yet it’s impossible: the real Frost gives them a dismissing glare, annoyed Y/N is lovingly holding The Joker’s arm as they come down the stairs, definitely engaged in some sort of argument.

“That’s obviously not me!” Jonny mutters and there are more disrespectful remarks from the henchmen patiently waiting for their boss.

“It’s still funny as hell!” Richard underlines and swallows his sentence when Y/N posing as Frost kisses The Joker’s cheek.

“One more sound out of you jerks and I’ll bash your brains in!” Jonny threatens because he’s sick and tired of Y/N playing charades at his expense.

Thankfully you switch to your old self immediately after but the team is glad they’ll have something to tease Frost with in the weeks to come. Although it can be overdone: under the apparent calmness he has quite a wretched temper.

“Delivered as agreed,” you cheerfully announce to his gang and follow J even if he’s not thrilled about it.

“Get lost!” he angrily stomps, pushing you away when you grab his hand again.

“Stop being so rude!” you remodel your body after his and he takes a deep breath, staring back at another fabulous J courtesy of Y/N.

“Stop mimicking me!!!” he sneers and Panda comments in a low tone, convinced he’s far behind to safely say it:

“Two Jokers. God Forbids!”

A couple of goons nearby snicker and the amusement abruptly halts when you raise your voice:

“I heard that!!!”

“Huh?” J inquires.

You just lift your shoulders up, not wanting to distract him from what he has to focus on: making sure he fulfils your demand.

The First Lock  

“You’re still here?!” The King of Gotham comes out of the bathroom, intensely drying his wet hair with a towel. “I thought that by the time I’m out of the shower you’ll be gone.”

You gaze at his naked body, reckoning it’s a nice coincidence to be compatible with such a beautiful specimen. Could be much worse.

“Why don’t you want to help me?” you ask and The Joker is aware what you’re referring to. “I’ve been begging you for a year; I must emphasize I’m losing hope and I will probably have to move to another continent in order to find a new prototype that could give me an heir.”

“Not my problem. Why do you want a kid?” he tosses the towel on the floor and digs around in the closet for a pair of boxers.

“So I won’t be alone,” the disarming reply makes him tilt his head to analyze the stubborn metahuman that pesters him on a regular basis about crap he doesn’t give a damn about. “The storm is coming,” you shift the subject when the lighting strikes the dark skies in the distance at 1:23 in the morning.

J gulps, uneasy: he saw the 6 feet creature for a split second and it certainly startled him.

“Apologies, Mister Joker,” you try to fix the mistake because it’s evident his reaction is below excitement standards. “The fire bolt must have projected my true nature. You only tolerate the pretty side, don’t you?” the sadness in your demeanor confuses J. “They all do…” Y/N whispers to herself. “Is this better?” you transform into Poison Ivy, then Cat Woman, then a random blonde girl with big boobs; by the seventh option The Joker had enough.

“Cut it out!” he finally finds his favorite underwear and you stand by the bed, opting out to be your human self for his sake.

“Can you please help me?” a disappointed woman pleads since he’s getting ready to go to sleep.

“Why would I help you?” The Joker snaps, hoping you’ll disappear from the premises and let him rest at the mansion he found refuge at after breaking out of Arkham.

Your eyes get teary and he never saw you show any type of weakness before; it’s sort of uncomfortable even for him.

“Because us freaks have to stick together.”

“Speak for yourself!” J gets mad at your affirmation and doesn’t know how to react to the tears rolling down your cheeks. “Mmmmm,” he debates, deep in thought: the insane Clown was captive for almost three months and a half and they surely don’t allow any conjugal visits in that shithole. Not that he has anybody in particular that would come to tend to his urges.

“If I help you,” the sudden switch in mood makes you pay attention, “will you quit bothering me?”

“Y-yes, of course! I swear!” you wipe your eyes, full of hope for once. “Since we’re a match it will only take one time! I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

You watch J take off his boxers and don’t blink when he yanks you in his arms, afraid he might change his mind: he’s not the most well balanced individual on the planet.

“No kissing,” you dodge his lips. “I only need the technical stuff.”

He gives you a cold stare, fed up with the infernal plague:

“You don’t get to make any other requests!” The Joker pulls you into a passionate kiss that unexpectedly shatters the first lock of your heart.

“Wait, wait…” you part from his soft lips, kind of drunk on the intimacy. “Did you hear that?!”

“Hear what?” he shoves Y/N on the bed and slowly crawls on top of her.

“That deafening noise.”

“Nope,” J purrs while carefully listening anyway. A strong thunder shakes the ground and he grins: “I heard it.”

“Not that, it was something else,” you attempt to explain and he buries his face in your cleavage, protesting the unwanted dialogue: 

“After chewing my ears for months, less yapping would be nice!”

You smile, delighted to have tricked The Joker with your fake tears; you sure counted on him being trapped inside the Asylum without any feminine presence to grace his existence and it payed off in the end. Making yourself available when nobody else is around brought the desired outcome: Y/N always gets what she wants.  

************

The Joker moans in his dream, unhappy with your wiggling.

“What is it?” he cuddles up to your body and it feels soft.

“I’m pregnant,” you yawn and he puffs in disbelief.

“Already?... We had sex a couple of hours ago.”

“U-hum,” you say and let him caress your skin, unaware your true essence peeked from behind the human shell. “It shouldn’t take too long. By morning I will have my heir.”

“That fast?” J opens his eyes since the pillow talk is actually interesting.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice I’m different,” you hum with your eyes closed, exhausted from the energy you have to channel into the tiny life growing inside your womb. The soon to be mother is so impatient she won’t skip accelerating the process at the expense of her own vitality.

“No kidding,” The King of Gotham mumbles, smitten with the apparition peacefully dozing off in his arms. The storm outside is wreaking havoc and each time lightning illuminates the blackness J can inspect the delicate feathers covering your body: when he touches you they change colors, red butterflies flying out of the pressed skin. He curiously pokes one and the illusion shatters into glowing dust resembling small fireworks.

The Joker has no clue that he is the first soul to ever see you like this; earlier he didn’t have the opportunity to comprehend what he saw, but he’s sure taking advantage of the situation now to understand what he’s looking at.

“Oh,” he touches your tummy that seems to expand with each passing moment: something is moving and he foolishly smirks without realizing.

Whatever is developing inside Y/N he helped create and strangely enough he can’t wait to see the result.

************

The Second Lock

J drags his feet on the wet grass, watching you admire the sunrise. He woke up and the bed was empty: made him wonder if you vanished without a trace. Yet there you are, waiting for him in the backyard since you figured you owe him this much.

“Mister Joker,” you chuckle, holding something wrapped up in a blanket. “I’m off to my house: thank you for participating in this project,” the indifferent metahuman blurs out: it’s the only speech she prepared. “I requested that everyone owing me money from last night should send it here,” you gesture at the huge duffel bag at your feet. “There’s 35 million dollars in here, all yours as a thank you for helping me.”

“Hm?” he crinkles his nose, insulted at the gift. “Do I look like a prostitute?!”

Why is he getting angry?... That’s a lot of money for a one night stand.

“They get paid for sex, don’t they?” he enlightens the puzzled Y/N. “What’s that?” J nods at the bundle you gently rock.

“My baby.”

“You gave birth?!” he forgets his hurt pride, not believing it’s already done.

“Yes, about 45 minutes ago,” you kiss your daughter’s forehead and her innocence makes your chest tightly constrict before the second lock of your heart is broken to pieces. “Did you hear that?” you interrogate the man you don’t need anymore.

“Hear what?” The Joker rushes to glimpse at the newborn as you step back, discontent he’s trying to take her.

“That horrifying bang! How can you not hear it?!”

“I have no idea what you’re rambling about,” he forcefully snatches the baby from Y/N’s embrace, grunting at her resistance. “Gimme, I wanna check out what I made!”

He parts the blanket aside and…

“Waaaaah,” the mesmerized parent holds his breath:

The sweet angel has wings embedded with neon green feathers, the same shade as J’s crazy hair.

“Are you done?” you attempt to reacquire your treasure and he slaps your arm.

“Little bird…” J runs his fingers along her wings and the mini-metahuman fusses a bit, already establishing a connection with her dad.

That’s exactly what you’re trying to avoid before it’s too late.

“Mister Joker, I have to go, ok??!!” you seek to remove the baby from her father.

“Stop bothering me!” he sucks on his teeth and begins striding towards the mansion while the panicked Y/N runs behind him.

“What are you doing? Give her back!”

“What should we name her?” The Joker ignores your outburst, totally struck with this overwhelming emotion washing over him.

Oh no, she’s already getting under his skin!

“WE?!” you shout, exasperated. “This is MY descendant!”

“You said I participated in the project so she’s half mine!” The Clown implies the obvious.“I think we should name her Emma, I always liked that name,” he adds to Y/N’s dismay. “Pretty bird…” J shuts you down as soon as you open your mouth to protest, stroking his daughter’s feathers.

He’s already addicted and this is a complete disaster!

“I’ll tell my boys to get baby supplies,” he decides without taking into consideration any opinions you might have about his plan.

“Why?!” you cringe at the proposal simply because The Joker is not part of the equation; but your daughter is already bonding with him and that’s something mommy can’t break: she has her own will and set of abilities enabling her to already make choices. You’re not sure why she’s making him believe he could be included into a two party family; there’s no space for a third, otherwise it would be a three party family and that won’t work.

“Don’t you need supplies for her?” he enters the master bedroom where the infant was conceived only hours ago.

You’re still on the patio, fuming at his absurdities.

“No, I have to go home! I’ll take care of it! Listen Mister Joker, I’m not expecting anything from you! ” you underline the truth and his witty response baffles Y/N:

“I was sure expected though to get naked and have sex right after escaping Arkham, huh?!” and The Joker protectively covers his daughter’s ears, his messed up brain figuring out she shouldn’t hear that. “Where’s home anyway, huh?” the tirade continues.

“That’s none of your business!” you shriek and he repositions Emma in his arms, preparing to lecture her mother when he gets distracted by the growth spur.

“Did she just get…bigger??!!!”

“Yes,” you join him in the middle of the room, explaining things you shouldn’t because frankly you should be at your residence by now. “She’s using capabilities inherited from me in order to speed up her evolution and then take a break to recharge around one year old landmark.”

“Fascinating,” J gushes while placing Emma on the couch: the baby is napping, not bothered by the quarrel anymore. “Wait here; I’ll go instruct my men on what we need.”

This is the limit to make you lose your marbles.

“There. Is. No. WE!” you thud on the wood floor and The Joker watches you get taller and taller until you can barely fit under the vaulted ceiling, electing to show him what he’s messing with. The metahuman transforms into the nightmare she really is: dark and sinister, covered in black feathers with sharp, long claws and fangs ready to tear apart the human trespassing a fine line.

That’s not what The Clown saw last night: you keep the beast caged but now IT needs to come out, otherwise he won’t understand the seriousness of his circumstances.

“You are not needed!” your heavy steps make the ground shake. “You are not wanted!” you corner The Joker between the table and the couch Emma is resting on. “Don’t stay in my way or you’ll regret it!!!! I’m taking my daughter and we’ll go: don’t try to stop me or I’ll kill you!!!” and you bend over to snarl in his face, prepared to shred him to pieces.

Eerie silence while J is gathering all his strength to put up with the fucked up events leading to this moment.  

“You two can’t go,” he straightness his back, so stiff one could think he swallowed a broomstick.

“Why not?” you smell his skin, antagonized.

The Joker tries to look as imposing as possible but he’s still half your size; nothing else in his mind besides some words of wisdom he’s about to repeat:

“Because us freaks have to stick together.”

You unravel your tusks, displeased with his strategy:

“Speak for yourself!”

That went down the drain fast, J thinks while the hideous mug a few inches away from his face doesn’t bulge. His eyes wander off to the sofa and he gasps:

“Where’s the baby?!”

A sharp claw points towards the ceiling and he looks up only to notice Emma snuggling in her blanket.

“Oh my God!” his eyes get big. “What is she doing there?!”

“Snoozing!”

“She’s gonna fall!” The Joker circles around you, worried about the angel.

“She’s not going to fall; she’s comfortable,” you huff and reach to caress her.

“Where are the wings?!” J glares at the gigantic mother tending to her peculiar offspring.

How many people have witnessed such bizarre sight? NONE. And yet The Clown is asking questions without a trace of disgust or judgement; only pure curiosity.

“They’ll come and go, she can’t fully control them yet.”

“Can you…can you turn into your usual self?” he suggests. “You’re very ugly like this and it’s spooking me out.”

“Do you know you’re interested in us because she’s making you?” the monster bites without using her fangs. “You’re useless, yet she wants you around.”

“Oh yeah?” The Joker’s attitude escalates despite the sticky context. “You’re useless also since you chased me until I slept with you; she exists thanks to my help! You should be ecstatic!!”

“Money is not enough?!” you gradually switch to the Y/N he’s familiar with even if you’re still mad.

“I have money,” The King of Gotham pretends not to be relieved by the welcomed transmutation.

“Then what do you want?” you attempt to compromise for your daughter’s sake.

“My birds,” he calmly admits.

You debate on his stupid reply: is J deaf and didn’t catch the memo?! He might be because he keeps on telling you he didn’t discern the odd, loud noises you heard twice so far.

You are not aware it would be such a blessing to hear those sounds again: it could mean the unconventional family Emma is trying to keep together might actually work.    

Also read: MASTERLIST

Diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[thecomicsnexus]

Final Crisis

CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS #12 MARCH 1986 BY MARV WOLFMAN, GEORGE PEREZ, JERRY ORDWAY, TOM ZIUKO AND TOM MCCRAW (RE-COLORED VERSION)

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

In Brainiac's starship, Dolphin, Captain Comet, Rip Hunter, Animal Man, the Atomic Knight, and Adam Strange convince the reviving robot that his memory was tampered with to make him forget the Crisis. Admitting that his power is inadequate to battle the Anti-Monitor, he sets course for the world of a more powerful being. On Earth, the Anti-Monitor's visage is seen in the skies all over the globe. He repeats that the Earth is now in the anti-matter universe. His past victories over positive universes are meaningless, he says, because of the super-heroes' efforts to stop him. When he lists Supergirl and the Flash as casualties, Kid Flash demands to know what has happened.

The Supermen scan the globe and watch the populace panicking. Harbinger appears, and teleports them to a chosen destination, then gathers Dr. Light from Japan, leaving Sunburst to defend the island. When Dr. Light states that she caused Supergirl's death, Harbinger replies that the battle had already killed Supergirl, and that the Anti-Monitor's final attack merely gave her a swift death. In the skies, the darkness splits into a million shadow demons, which begin an all-out attack on humanity, and the super-heroes mass to resist them. The Global Guardians team with other heroes to free their native lands from the threat, but the demons' numbers seem endless. The Phantom Stranger summons Dr. Mist to help revive the Spectre who lies comatose. Below, Harbinger has gathered a large group of heroes, along with Pariah and Alex, to lead a final assault on their nemesis. Alex creates a bridge between universes, and they depart near Apokolips.

Brainiac's ship goes into stationary orbit, and he and his guests teleport to the planet, where Darkseid appears and introduces himself.

Back on Earth, the majority of the heroes are still battling the demons. The Dove is slain by a shadow-being as his brother watches in horror.

In Dr. Fate's Salem tower, the magically powered heroes have gathered to pool their shamanistic might. The Earth-2 Green Lantern and Dr. Occult form the nexus of their energy.

On Qward, in the anti-matter universe, Harbinger and the heroes have arrived in the Anti-Monitor's old headquarters. Kid Flash insists on joining them because of his mentor's demise. Suddenly, an image of the Flash appears to him—the last one Barry cast before his death. Wally follows the afterimage to where an insane Psycho-Pirate clutches at an empty uniform. Kid Flash knocks him out, and realizes that Barry Allen is truly dead when Lady Quark finds his ring. Pariah informs them that a great concentration of evil lies before them. They follow to find a towering Anti-Monitor, ready for the final slaughter.

In Atlantis, Aquaman leads his underwater legions against the shadows. Lori Lemaris saves a trapped Mera with a force beam. A demon closes in on her and kills her. In Chicago, Green Arrow of Earth-2 is killed by a shadow. In Philadelphia, Cyborg, the Son of Vulcan, the Vigilante, and the New Wildcat continue rescue operations.

In New Orleans, Shade the Changing Man witnesses the death of Prince Ra-Man. In Skartaris, Travis Morgan leads his forces against the black menaces. In Gotham City, both Clayface II and the Bug-Eyed Bandit perish at the hands of the demons. In Salem, the tide finally turns. The supernatural crusaders send their combined force in a net of energy to gather the demons from the Earth's surface, and bind them helpless in space. Over the Earth, lives have been lost, including those of Kole, Huntress, and Robin, but other lives have been saved. For a moment, the survivors can take stock.

On Qward, the Supermen of Earth 1 and 2, Captain Atom, Lady Quark, Firehawk, Wonder Woman, and other tarot's strike at the Anti-Monitor, but he ignores their blows, feeding on the energy of a nearby star, As Dr Light absorbs the energy of one of the binary suns they are between, the Anti-Monitor feels his power draining away. Alex begins to drain the anti-matter energy away from their enemy. Negative Woman uses her negative-self to bind the Anti-Monitor and inhibit him: then Harbinger leads all the energy-producing heroes against him, Dr. Light blasts him with the energy of a sun, and he falls into the ruins of his fortress. Alex creates a dimensional hole, large enough to enclose the Earth and return it to its proper universe. The heroes follow. The ball of bound demons hover and then fall on the fallen enemy. Thus, the Anti-Monitor absorbs his slaves energies and rises again, while the heroes start to give battle. Wonder Woman is caught in a withering flash of power, and is borne away to an unknown destination. Superman of Earth-1 and Lady Quark vow deadly revenge, but Kal-L knocks them out, and tells Superboy to take them back. Since he has no world and no wife to return to, the elder Superman has the least to lose. Then he confronts the monstrous Anti-Monitor, and batters him. Superboy sends Superman and Lady Quark back through Alex's shrinking body, and turns to aid him. Superman continues his one-man war against the Anti-Monitor, striking telling blows, while the villain, his power waning, absorbs more energy from the anti-cosmos, and blasts him and Superboy. Darkseid, watching the conflict on a viewscreen, proclaims his planet to be endangered if the Anti-Monitor survives, sends a power burst at him through Alex's eyes. The enemy, devastated, is hurled into the core of one of the binary suns. Superman, Superboy, and Alex are stunned to see the spectre of their enemy rising from the sun. Superman smashes into his foe's fiery body, scattering him: the remains fall back into the sun and the star begins to implode.

They bravely await the end and Superman wishes that Lois could have lived to see their triumph. At that, Alex produces Lois from a void-pocket in his body where she had been sent to wait. She tells her husband that she had been to a tranquil world. Alex cannot return them to Earth but he can take them all to this beautiful world. Superman, Lois, and Superboy opt for that choice. The foursome vanish seconds before the exploding sun would have reached them.

Back on Earth, Lyla is explaining facets of the Crisis to Pariah and Lady Quark. Wonder Woman was returned to the clay which Aphrodite and Athena had given life, then spread across Paradise Island.

Time then continued to reverse itself, as the Amazons were returned to their original homeland before they fled Man's World. Zeus brought the homeless Wonder Woman of Earth-2 and her husband Steve Trevor to Olympus, where they could live peacefully. The bodies of Robin of Earth-2, the Huntress, and Kole were never found. All those who died were mourned. In Keystone City, Jay Garrick determined that Kid Flash's illness was in remission, his body chemistry being changed by a blast from the Anti-Monitor. He could again move at super-speed, though only to a maximum of Mach-1. Wally donned Barry Allen's uniform, and announced, "From this day forth — the Flash lives again!"

The Great Disaster will not exist in the Earth's future, but a lost child will be found in Command D. adopted by General Horatio Tomorrow of the Planeteers, and named Thomas. Jonah Jex will be torn from his era to fight in the future, while the Guardians of the Universe must face the first division in their ranks. Thus, Lyla concludes her tale, and Lady Quark and Pariah ask her to help them explore their new homeworld. They leave with her, honoring the memory of their benefactor, the Monitor. And, in Arkham Asylum, the staff discuss a new patient who seems beyond help, straitjacketed in a rubber-lined room. Roger Hayden, formerly Psycho-Pirate, gibbers about Earths beyond numbers, the Anti-Monitor, and the memories, which only he had been allowed to keep.

NOTORIOUS DEATHS IN THIS ISSUE

Anti-Monitor

Dove

Green Arrow (Earth-2)

Huntress

Kole

Robin (Dick Grayson, Earth-2)

Sunburst

Bug-Eyed Bandit

Clayface II (Matt Hagen)

Lori Lemaris

Ten Eyed Man

REVIEW

The ending of Crisis is the only part of it that remains canon after it (as it happened on new earth). Although many things about it will not remain (no one will remember the multiverse, not even the ones that survived it). Same will apply to deaths like Huntress, who will be completely replaced post-crisis.

So, was it worth it? Absolutely. Wolfman’s idea of rebooting the universe every 10 years would have been a great idea, but sales will not always allow for it (this is the reason DC was never able to do a complete reboot, you don’t fix what isn’t broken, namely Batman, Legion of Super-Heroes and the Green Lantern Corps).

As for its legacy, this event is the father of all events. Cross-overs and team-ups have been plenty, not only at DC, since the Golden Age. And while there have been similar events in 1982 and 1984 over at Marvel, they barely had any impact (Spider-symbiote being the one thing to remember). Crisis was a whole different thing. But sadly, it happened at DC, that means that not all the opportunities will be taken seriously.

Crisis offered the chance of a blank slate, but instead, the relaunch was sloppy and as a result, the universe required a soft reboot less than 10 years later. Crisis tie-ins are a good demonstration of how slow DC was to react to what they were doing. They do not match the chapter of the month.

Another interesting example is Wally West, who was restored in the end, with a slower speed, and became the Flash. However, it would take more than a year for Wally to take on his own book. This coincided with Justice League International and the end of Legends. Wonder Woman suffered the same delay as well. There were no plans to what would happen afterwards, because DC wasn’t fully aware of what they just did. They were too busy closing down titles, and the reaction to restart everything was delayed, sometimes by more than 5 years. Fortunately, the man of steel would end the year with one of his most emblematic runs.

As for the story itself, the science makes little sense, but I am willing to forgive those flaws. The essence of the event was to revisit the DCU history, to streamline everything and to showcase every single character they had. It was supposed to launch in 1983, but it had to wait until the 50th anniversary (while a long research had to be done to figure out the full DCU history). This story accomplishes that. The tie-ins... not so much. But Crisis as a story works very well. Without tie-ins.

There is a lot of love poured into it as well, and you can tell. Those final sequences with Alex Luthor, Kal-L, Lois and Superboy-Prime are beautiful and sad at the same time (again, DC would shoot themselves in the foot by desecrating that ending in 2005, but that’s a story for another time).

You cannot imagine another penciler for this story either. George Perez is the god of team-ups. Since then, he had some replacements, most notoriously, Phil Jimenez, but in 1985, it was pretty much him. And the art is so beautiful, and so meaningful, Crisis on Infinite Earths became on of the greatest achievements in comic-book history.

Jerry Ordway had to step in after Giordano and DeCarlo, for reasons I do not know. He was the perfect choice for this event. His style adds some clarity to Perez style, where Tanghal wouldn’t have dared to modify too much. As a result, you get an interesting hybrid. Ordway’s realistic faces, with Perez crazy layouts and detailed backgrounds.

The art in general is something to admire over and over. That scene where the shadow demons break apart and darkness becomes sky... that’s Michael Bay High Octane shit. You are basically watching a disaster movie.

Some of the deaths in this story mean nothing. Losing Green Arrow from Earth-2 or Helena Wayne will not have an impact. But they can seriously affect some readers.

One thing I didn’t mention before, was that New Genesis was actually part of the Crisis, as Darkseid only cloaked Apokolips, but apart from Crisis #10, I haven’t seen anything happening over there in other books.

Now, which version should you buy? All of them.

I grew up reading the spanish adaptation, which was pretty much the original with translated text. Then I bought 1998′s slipcase, which was already re-colored. I really think this one was the best as the wrap-around cover has the full Alex Ross painting. 2015′s deluxe edition includes the History of the DCU, with a new cover by George Perez. Perhaps this one adds more value. There is also a very expensive edition coming at the end of the year that includes all the tie-ins, but as you may have read, not all tie-ins are good or worthy of reading with this saga.

Then I actually recommend the digital version, as this book is so beautiful, you don’t even want to touch it.

I give this story a score of 10

[bonesandscales]

Hannibal Fic Recs

I’ve seen a couple of those floating around lately so I thought I’d do one too. Here are some of my favourite fics in the fandom.

1. Rediscovered Treasures by Nalyra (@allione). Will finds Hannibal's stash "erotica" from around the world. Hannibal of course claims that it's all "art"--very sophisticated and classy--and Will is just like, "that is a woman fucking a squid ffs”. 

(sending a million kisses to allione because this is the fic that made me start writing for this fandom ❤)

2. Omiai by iesika (@iesika). Will acquires a murderous secret admirer, and learns how much easier the habit of violence can be with an enthusiastically willing target. 

A courtship through blood and… other means of influence.

3. Sounders of Three by inameitlater. "The Chesapeake Ripper kills in sounders of three.

"In which Will continues his journey after the events of "We Killed a Dragon Last Night".

4. Ravenous by rageprufrock. Clarice Starling meets Hannibal Lecter armed with a copy of the Buffalo Bill file. 

5. i feel your thumbs press into my skin again by softhan (@strongwillgraham). Autoimmune encephalitis can be a recurring disease,” Hannibal says, as gently as Will has ever heard him.“Oh, god.” Will brings his hands up and covers his face. He takes a moment to just breathe, letting the thought hit him and settle, mind spiraling in a hundred directions. “What are we going to do about that? I can’t very well just check myself into a hospital and say ‘Hi, I have a history of this rare autoimmune disease that a fugitive who looks exactly like me is known for having’, can I?”

Will has a relapse of his encephalitis, but Hannibal and their dogs take good care of him.

6. The Torment of Tantalus by InfiniteCrisis (@crisisoninfintefandoms). Set in Cuba after the fall. Hannibal isn’t touching Will. Will wants to know why, but is afraid to ask.

Sexual and emotional tension and resolution; a comedy of errors told by the ocean and classical mythology.

"Everyone always spoke of the torment of Tantalus; no one ever stopped to consider what it was like for the tree."

7. The Estate by bokunojinsei (@bokuno-jinsei). "Love involves a peculiar unfathomable combination of understanding and misunderstanding."

-Diane Arbus

Chiyoh had shot Will down in the street, his forgiveness falling with a clatter to the pavement. Hannibal, once intent on his belief that only by consuming Will could he be free of him, decides impulsively to try something a little different than what he had planned.

Or: What if Hannibal hadn't tried to eat Will after he drugged him in Florence? What if he'd decided to run away with him instead?

8. Out Of The Depths by TiggyMalvern (@tiggymalvern). After the fall, Hannibal gets away and Will is left behind to deal with Jack, and the wreckage.

9. Physis by Chifuyu (@staticraining). After everything that has happened in Italy, there is still one last obstacle Will Graham has to overcome before he can try and pick up the broken pieces that once were his life: Being a witness at Hannibal Lecter’s trial.

10. The Sun’s Light Failed by  shiphitsthefan (@shiphitsthefan). “I know what you are," Will tells him. "You’re the Ripper. I see you."

A long pause, and then Hannibal very carefully says, “You shouldn’t speak of such things. I dread the thought of you and calamity meeting under inconspicuous circumstance.”

Will steps forward into Hannibal’s space; he eases down to his knees in front of him, but never breaks eye contact, and it doesn’t hurt to look at Hannibal. It’s like looking into a carnival mirror; they’re the same, but different. “That isn’t a denial."

Hannibal takes a deep breath. He reaches out and brushes his fingers along Will’s cheek. His hand is trembling. “Does the lamb come so freely to the slaughter?

11. “NIGHT OF THE RIPPER” by  EvilAdmin. Life finally seems to be on the upswing for 24-year-old Wolf Trap police officer Will Graham when he receives a letter from the FBI Academy informing him that he's been accepted into their program for the upcoming semester. But fate intervenes with a cruel and ironic twist when Will walks into a house and discovers a murder scene, and he recognizes the M.O. as that of the Chesapeake Ripper, a killer who’s been on the FBI’s ten most wanted list for the past two years. But the shock of finding a Ripper murder scene in Wolf Trap is only the beginning as Will soon realizes that the Ripper is still in the house. And so begins a night of terror for Will as he tries to stay one step ahead of one of the most ruthless and cunning killers in the country, while also trying to prove to himself that he's worthy enough to join the ranks of the F.B.I.

A "Hannibalized" version of the book “Intensity” by Dean Koontz.

12. through a glass by amare. He went to sleep in an asylum; he woke up in a reality not his own. Will's either gone down the rabbit hole of his own unstable mind, or he's ended up someplace else entirely. (The non-opaque summary: Will wakes up in a universe where he and Hannibal are dating.)

13. Variation on Persephone by dornfelder (@uniwolfwerecorn). When they speak of Kore, they never talk about how she had, in truth, been Persephone all along.

14. The Thorn of the Rose by AGlassRoseNeverFades (@aglassroseneverfades). "Beware," it is said, "Beware, beware, do not go into the forest at night." Yet go Will must in order to save his best friend Alana after she goes missing in that gloomy, forbidden wood. He finds her in the dungeons of an abandoned castle at the heart of the forest, imprisoned by a fearsome horned beast. A bargain is struck, one life in exchange for another, and Will learns that all is not as it seems in the ruins of Castle Lecter.

A Hannibal retelling of Beauty and the Beast.

15. To Beg by jonnimir (@ethicsbecomeaesthetics). Hannibal blinked, taken aback by the sudden turn of phrase. Then his upper lip curled. “I beg your pardon?”

Will looked phenomenally unconcerned for someone whose tongue Hannibal was idly contemplating serving as an amuse-bouche. If anything he looked satisfied at throwing Hannibal off-balance, a smile playing around his lips. He straightened his back, raised a brow, and said with relish: “Then beg.”

Hannibal finds himself unexpectedly attracted to Will's dominance. Will stumbles upon his submissive streak by accident, and is quick to seize this opportunity.

16. Blood and Feathers and Antlers by  TheSilverQueen (@thesilverqueenlady). When Will was a young fawn, all he ever wanted was to grow up as proud and strong as his idol, the Prince of the Forest, Jack. And then one day he wandered off the path and into the strangest pool he'd ever seen. It was red as those sharp roses whose thorns Will had learned the hard way not to eat and smelled like the metal that he'd seen two-legs leave behind. It takes a few drinks to realize that it's blood. When he jumps back in shock, he ends up bumping into the biggest stag he's ever seen, bigger than Will's father, bigger than even the great Prince of the Forest, with antlers as tall as Will himself and feathers as black as night.

"Hello, little fawn," says the Ravenstag, "what have we here?"

17. Proximity by victorine (@victorineb). Hannibal’s hand is halfway to stroking down Will’s spine before he catches himself. He is achingly hard and the source of his arousal is inches from him, blissfully unaware. Slowly, he draws his hand back and lets it slide downwards, towards the swell of his erection, letting out a hiss as he grazes against the silk that is barely containing it.

This is… rude. Inexcusably so. Were he entirely in control, Hannibal would surely retreat into his mind palace and wait until he was less affected.

But…

Hannibal cannot touch Will as he aches to. So he touches himself instead.

18. Hannibal: Pushing Us Into Self-Destruction by IBegToDreamAndDiffer  (@ibegto-dreamanddiffer). Clarice Starling needs help with a case, so she pays a visit to Will Graham, who's incarcerated in the Baltimore Sate Hospital with his partner.

19. Pattern Break by ThisBeautifulDrowning. Will knew what had happened. He knew exactly how Abigail's ear had gotten into him, who had shoved it down his throat. He also knew that trying to indicate Hannibal as a killer again was futile. Jack seemed to want to believe him, going by the conversation in the BSHCI's visitor hall, but Jack needed something concrete, evidence. Hannibal had eluded capture for so long, he wasn't going to start leaving fingerprints or hairs at his crime scenes now.No, Will was going to deal with Hannibal Lecter on his own terms. The man deserved to reap what he'd so carefully sowed, didn't he? He deserved to experience what he'd coaxed forth from the bottom of Will's soul, to see the result of his machinations.

After his release from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Will doesn't return to work for the FBI.

20. Atavism by RubyBakeneko (@rubybakeneko). Will and Hannibal have prolific amounts of sex, but Will refuses to accept tenderness or affection. When Hannibal objects, Will thinks it’s with the aim of controlling him and fostering further dependency. He roleplays as his former self to try and prove his point, steadfastly ignoring his own underlying feelings and motivations. The results are predictably messy. 

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

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QUEST 07: DISHONOUR AMONG THIEVES

QUEST SUMMARY:

Due to his status as the World Guardian, Jahaan wound up as part of Zamorak’s heist team. Their task? Steal the Stone of Jas from Sliske and return its power to Zamorak. Jahaan gets to learn more about a god propaganda had always skewed, but will he be on board with Zamorak’s plan in the end…

CHAPTER 2: ABSTRACT OF ZAMORAK

“Care for a drink?” Zamorak held out an engraved chalice, the inscription a foreign dialect that was painful to look at. “I don’t know why assholes come into my churches and steal my wine. I’d make a mint if I just straight up sold it. Go legitimate and all.”

So yes, Jahaan did take the meeting. Right on time he used the communication device that whisked him away… somewhere. He was underground, that’s for sure. The claustrophobic feel of gravity assured him of that.

Zamorak had invited him into a chamber of sorts, akin to the dining room of a haunted mansion. The deity really did have a taste for the theatrical, what with the vampyric ornaments and arcane fixtures. Also, crimson. LOTS of crimson.

Zamorak practically blended into the walls.

He sat Jahaan down in a grand armchair of sorts, donned with decorative bones, and it made Jahaan feel like a supervillain.

Sniffing a faint laugh, Jahaan took the chalice and allowed Zamorak to fill it up to the brim with the thick red liquid, dark like blood. That last thought gave Jahaan pause before he put it to his lips, but after a quick sniff and being overwhelmed by the alcoholic, fruity scent, he assured himself it was indeed wine. “Thanks. I didn’t think Mahjarrat could drink, though.”

“We can’t,” Zamorak confirmed, taking a large gulp. “I’ll have to get it out of me later. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy some good booze for now though.”

Not wanting to press for anymore details, Jahaan asked, “Where on Gielinor are we? Are… are we still on Gielinor?”

Laughing, Zamorak said, “Of course we’re still on Gielinor. This is temporary base of operations, courtesy of an old friend of mine - Bilrach - who you’ll meet later on. Dug the place himself, crazy bastard. Crazy, loyal, dedicated bastard, that is. You humans would know of it as ‘Daemonheim’.”

Eyes wide, Jahaan audibly gasped. Yes, he had heard of Daemonheim, mainly from stories. A band of Fremennik warriors decided to sail west around the globe, discovering uncharted islands and unclaimed lands as they did so. Daemonheim was their greatest find. Despite being a part of continental Gielinor, no-one had ventured that far in centuries, the unforgiving terrain putting a fatal halt to would-be adventurers. Thanks to the Freminnick, the place was now accessible, though you should pray for those who dare to enter the dungeons beneath the ancient castle atop the snow. Floor upon floor of monsters, puzzles, hazards and traps. No-one had ever made it to the bottom floor; the lucky ones retreated to the surface, the others were not so fortunate. No-one knew who had built such a place, or why. No-one, it seems now, except Jahaan.

Smirking, Zamorak remarked, “I’m glad you’re impressed. Not many have had the honour of stepping on such hallowed ground. It’s a good place to regroup, after the battle with Saradomin didn’t go as well as planned…”

“Yeah, how are the Zamorakians taking the defeat?” Jahaan inquired, taking a sip of the wine, far too bitter for his tastes.

“Better than you’d think. We lost a lot of forces, but I’m still swinging, and so are my Mahjarrat. Now I’m gonna to bypass this ridiculous little contest of Sliske’s and take back the Stone. Let’s see Saradomin stand tall then!”

Zamorak took a sip from his red wine, his eyes thoughtful and calculated, as the silence stretched on. After a while, he finally spoke up, “World Guardian, have you ever been told about Sliske’s plays?”

Jahaan furrowed his brow, stopping mid-sip, suddenly worried. “No…”

Zamorak grinned, the flesh stretching and pulling across bone. “Man, you’re going to love this. Sliske’s always been a twisted bastard, but this put it to whole new heights. See, back in the days of the Zarosian Empire, we Mahjarrat were given pretty high-class roles - our reward for taking out the Menaphites. Half of us got chosen as generals and lieutenants in the army - known as 'Legati' in Infernal - while the other half were churchleaders, or 'Pontifixes'. Sliske, due to his… unusual predilections...  was given the rank of Praefectus Praetorio - the head of Senntisten’s secret police. Investigation, spying, interrogation… you can see how the role was built for him. In his free time, he was always writing. Stories, plays, even pathetic attempts at poetry. His plays were the most fucked up, performed for the top ranks of Senntisten, like urbane demons, bureaucrats… you know, the types of assholes that could afford to watch his nonsense. To make the plays, he rounded up the low caste and homeless, dressed them up in costumes, and placed upon each a crude wooden mask, which he whittled himself. Sliske gave the word, and the masks started doing their thing; they’d speak aloud, control the actor’s movements, making ‘em jerkily act and mime his play like demented puppets. Sometimes the actors actually stabbed each other to death with their weapons at the play's climax. In one show, one of the actors died - probably of some disease - in the middle of the performance, but the mask kept animating his corpse and the show went on. Sick, right? Worst part is, the audience lapped it up! Sliske went on to perform it about a dozen or so more times before growing bored - as he is prone to do - and moving onto something else. No-one dared speak up against him. After all, who wants to be at the centre of a Praetorian investigation?”

Mouth hung open, Jahaan sat there in horror, his mind doing him the courtesy of picturing every grotesque and gruesome detail. He was starting to feel nauseous because of it, and the wine probably wasn’t helping matters. It took him a while before he could collect himself enough to exclaim, “Didn’t… didn’t Wahisietel say something?!”

Zamorak laughed sharply and so suddenly that Jahaan spilt a bit of his wine. “His brother gave up on his ways long before that. Sliske’s always been fucked in the head, even back on Freneskae, playing with corpses with childlike glee. There’s something seriously wrong with him. There was one of our kind, old Nabor - boring as dry brick but he was pretty sharp. He ran the insane asylum in Senntisten, became quite the psychologist while he did. He once remarked to me how he’d love to study Sliske, to really figure out what was up with him. Never dared invite him for a session, though. I used to see him and Wahisietel chatting - they were close. No doubt Sliske came up in their conversations.”

Jahaan made a mental note to confer with Wahisietel when the opportunity arose.

But in all this, one thing became clear to him more than ever before: Sliske knew everything about him, but he knew nothing of Sliske.

Shaking the cobwebs from his mind, Jahaan rounded back to something less… horrifying. “Senntisten doesn’t seem like such a bad place. Your kind were well taken care of, from what you tell me, so why’d you leave Zaros?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Zamorak confessed, his fingers, unblemished and marble-white, scratching absently at his face. “Ask my followers and they’ll all tell you a different story. Some think it was just a political coup, that I wanted to gain power with no endgame, or that I’d had a falling out with the ‘Empty Lord’. Truth is, we needed to break free from Zaros. He wanted to know our every move, our every thought. When we went on missions, Zaros made us take along a man named Perjour, someone he’d cursed to be his bibliographer. Everything thought that man had, every single thing he witnessed, would be transcribed in a little book, which Zaros would sift through, looking for any seeds of betrayal from his followers. It was oppressing.”

“So how did you get around that?” Jahaan inquired, drawn in by the energy Zamorak brought to his tales.

Grinning wickedly, Zamorak boasted, “I stole the book, switched it with a copy. Zaros was none the wiser. And thus, the seeds of rebellion were sewn.”

The last comment was followed by a wink as he swirled around the wine in his class, looking all-too proud of himself. It seemed all Mahjarrat were capable of that unique form of unnerving smugness.

But something still stuck in Jahaan’s craw; he hesitated, and Zamorak picked up on this. “Come on, just come out with it.”

Exhaling deeply, Jahaan begun, “Alright… your chaos theory hasn’t been painted in the best light across Gielinor. Is all of it really propaganda? What about the Culinaromancer? Count Malak? Lord Iban? And don’t get me started on those dark wizards…”

Rolling his eyes, Zamorak’s annoyance looked of one who had dealt with this before. “Okay, yes, we have a few bad eggs. It’s a damn shame cos we started out so promising. Many came to me because they were fleeing or rejecting some aspect of authority within the Empire, and a philosophy that prized individuality over structure, society or government was just what they were after. But over time this developed into a very unhealthy anarchism; some followers ‘misinterpret’ my philosophy, twisting my words and using it as an excuse to steal, torment, attack… wanting to watch the world burn is nothing I’ve ever preached. But Saradominsts take these few radicals and think we’re all like that. They spew out propaganda against us, saying we’re all evil monsters and anarchists. The few have ruined it for the many.”

“I hate that people think I’m evil,” Zamorak continued, gulping down another swig of wine and instantly refilling himself. “Yeah, I’ve done some pretty bad shit in my time, but who hasn’t? War is messy. If you want your hands clean, become a chef. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the betterment of my followers, for the Mahjarrat, and for Gielinor. Saradominism is all about ‘join with me and you’ll never have strife again’. We all know that’s just bullshit. Zamorakianism is all about ‘strength through chaos’, about knowing that life can deal you a crappy hand, but it’s that struggle and misery that can shape who you are and make you into a stronger, better person. Take you, World Guardian - I doubt your life has been all roses and daisies, right?”

“You could say that.”

“I AM saying that. But tell me, think back… if all that hadn’t happened to you, would you be where you are now, decked out in fine armour, drinking fine wine, talking to a damn fine god?”

A thin smile spread across Jahaan’s face. He understood.

As Zamorak spoke more about his chaos philosophy, Jahaan was inclined to buy what Zamorak was selling. A lot of his ideologies matched with Jahaan’s own views, and the deity was nothing if not captivating.

It’s just a shame some of his followers are so unbearable, Jahaan internally groaned at the thought of Zemouregal.

But then again, when it came to philosophy, Jahaan’s world view overlapped a lot with that of Zarosianism. Guthixianism, too. After all, once you’re there for the final words of one of the world’s most powerful deities, you form a connection.

Saradominsm did have some decent arguments, Jahaan would admit to himself, but he could never fall on board with the ideology, and definitely not the lifestyle. As for Armadyl, he hadn’t ever really heard much from the winged deity, aside from his triumph over Bandos. It was too early to call a judgement on him yet.

There was always the Menaphite Pantheon, the ‘go-to’ religion for the desert-born.

Gahh… these labels serve more harm than good… Jahaan grumbled to himself, fighting down another gulp of the wine.

While Zamorak tended to some business, the details of which he never specified, Jahaan was offered a teleport to the central chamber of the lair. Feeling it might be considered rude to refuse, and not wanting to accidentally go through the wrong door into one of Daemonheim’s rumoured horror chambers, Jahaan accepted, and with Jahaan’s permission, Zamorak's spell whisked him away.

The centre part of the lair Jahaan was as over the top as it was terrifying. Complete with lava fountains, torches of tall flames and crackling fire, grotesque chiselled statues of beasts and nightmares, and a crimson tiled floor with the Zamorakian symbol crudely embedded into it… this place didn’t exactly scream ‘happy fun time’. In fact, if Zamorak was trying to shake the ‘evil villain’ image the Saradominist propaganda department were creating, this wasn’t helping.

The chamber wasn’t massive in size, but its grandiose excessiveness more than made up for it.

Jahaan manifested in the centre of the room; a throne comprised of black marble and blood red horns strung across it directly faced him, while short hallways to the east and west had imposing doors adorned with skulls at either end.

The heat was also comparable to that of Freneskae.

Immediately, countless sets of eyes leered at him from all around, the present company of gathered Zamorakians all stopping to size up the newest arrival.

Feeling awkward, but not wanting to let it show, Jahaan strode over to one of the large pillars and casually leaned up against it, crossing his arms over his chest with an air of defiance, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be here. However, he carefully avoided eye contact with anyone, subtly exploring the room with a low glance.

There were two Mahjarrat that Jahaan didn’t recognise from the Ritual of Rejuvenation. One, a bulky looking fellow draped in thick, tattered cloaks. There was a presence about him, a power that rattled through his very being. He looked solid; while all Mahjarrat are technically immortal, this one actually felt it. It was almost unnerving. Yet, undermining that were his eyes - they looked haunted, flicking between the ceiling, the walls, the floor, like he was hearing sounds from all directions and trying to gravitate towards the strongest voice.

But if he missed the Ritual, why doesn’t he look all... half-dead? Jahaan pondered to himself, hoping he didn’t look like he was staring.

The other Mahjarrat, on the other hand, did look worse for wear. Hazeel, he was known as. Jahaan had heard stories about his cult of followers in Ardougne, and how he’d ruled over the lands way back in the Fourth Age with brutality and fear. It was the Carnillean Family that became his end, alongside Saradominist peasants who, upon learning magic and runecrafting, wished to liberate their lands from the Zamorakian tyranny. They didn’t manage to kill Hazeel, but they trapped him in a state of torpor, neither living nor dead. His skeletal appearance did have a rather blood-curdling quality about it. Unlike the other Mahjarrat, he had very large horns protruding from his forehead, looking quite similar to the headpiece Azzanadra wore. These, however, were sharpened into deadly points.

Jahaan wasn’t quite sure how the two Mahjarrat could look so different - one full of life and vigor, the other frail and weak.

If I tread carefully, perhaps I could find out? Jahaan thought to himself, not quite looking forward to conversing with even more Zamorakian Mahjarrat than he had to, but his curiosity drove him onwards.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he strolled over to the rejuvenated looking one, greeting him with a respectful nod of his head. “I’m Jahaan. Zamorak sent for me. I don’t think we’ve met before...”

The trailed-off sentence was an indication to fill in the blanks, but the Mahjarrat seemed rather perturbed at Jahaan’s presence. Jahaan didn’t think he was going to get a response and planned on awkwardly shuffling away, pretending that never happened as he did so, but the Mahjarrat’s sudden response startled him into staying. “Bilrach. I am Bilrach. Forgive me, human contact is taking some getting used to.”

Seems nice enough, Jahaan decided with relief. Not wanting to let the conversation go dry for too long, he continued, “Pleased to meet you, Bilrach. I was at the last Ritual of Rejuvenation, but I don’t remember seeing you there. You… you look well, though. Lots of… skin.”

“I was digging,” Bilrach bluntly replied. “Always digging, digging, digging… they thought this to be my tomb, but it was my salvation. The rift did not provide answers alone, though.”

Quickly, Jahaan deduced Bilrach was not shuffling with a full deck. "Ah yes, Zamorak mentioned that you dug this place yourself."

Bilrach nodded. “Centuries I dug, trying to find the rift between realities, the place where the bond between worlds is at its weakest. Here, I was going to find Zamorak and pull him back to Gielinor. I did not succeed, but this chamber is the product of my labour.”

“But if you missed the Ritual, how come you look so powerful?” Jahaan inquired, hoping the subtle compliment would work in his favour.

From the shift in Bilrach's demeanor, it seemed to work. “Ah, yes! Instead, after tumbling through the dimensions, I arrived on my home planet of Freneskae. There are no longer any of my kind there, but other tribes once existed. The Chelon-Mah and Mahserrat, born from the same energy as we Mahjarrat. It was then that I had an epiphany. Hmm.”

Silence. After it was clear Bilrach was indeed lost inside his own head, Jahaan gently prodded, “And what was that?”

“Ah, yes. The other tribes were also bound to rituals, needing the life force of those that perish to sustain themselves. The Mahserrat decided to forgo this process, resigning themselves to a fate without rejuvenation. But the Chelon-Mah… hmm. The Chelon-Mah did the opposite. They concluded that only the strongest should live, yes. One almighty being, commanding the power of the entire tribe. I remember it. The battle blazed across the horizon – a glorious sight to behold, indeed. For weeks they fought tirelessly, until only one remained with all their power. A brutal incarnation of the Chelon-Mah tribe; the physical embodiment of war. Yes, his might on the battlefield was unparalleled.”

“What does this have to do with your epiphany?”

“Epiphany?” Bilrach blinked. “Oh, yes. I knew that after thousands of years whilst the Mahjarrat have grown stronger, the Chelon-Mah would have diminished. With the Mahserrat all likely to have perished and no kin to sacrifice, he would never have been able to rejuvenate. I returned to Gielinor with the once-great Chelon-Mah captive. I slew him upon my very own Ritual Marker.”

Jahaan gasped. “That worked?!”

“Apparently so. The rejuvenation was an unintended effect of his death. A strange power spread throughout the surface - you may have even felt it yourself. My kin would have believed me perished. But I live.”

“But if you didn’t know you’d be rejuvenated, why did you kill him?”

“On Freneskae we were at war with the Chelon-Mah; with no kin left to test his strength he turned to the Mahjarrat,” Bilrach gravely explained, his eyes flitting over to the two doorways parallel to him. “He killed many of my brethren. Taking his life was a justice long overdue. As the only Mahjarrat at the Ritual Marker when I slew him, I was able to absorb all his power, hmm. I thought I could use this new power to bring back Zamorak. Alas, I still did not find the answers I sought. It would seem it is exceptionally difficult for anyone but a god to open a portal between worlds.”

Remembering Zamorak’s words from before, Jahaan thought to inquire into why Bilrach defected from Zaros to Zamorak, but by the change in tone and demeanour he received from Bilrach, he wished he’d never rocked the boat.

“You know nothing of the Mahjarrat, impling, and neither did Zaros,” Bilrach’s gravelly voice sounded like he’d inhaled too much Daemonheim dust. Though his voice was monotonous and grounded, his eyes seemed to dart and flicker. “We were warriors, brave survivors. In the Empire we grew soft. Zaros took our culture from us, tried to tame our nature, making us priests and bureaucrats - such positions are a disgrace to the Mahjarrat name! Zamorak reminded us of our birthright.”

“Ah, I see you’re getting yourself acquainted,” a feminine voice faded in beside the pair, relieving the tension Jahaan had created. Moia walked up to stand beside Bilrach with the friendliest smile her contorted face could manage. “Jahaan, why don’t I introduce you to everyone else while we await my master’s presence?”

“Sure,” Jahaan agreed, following Moia’s lead with a quick look over his shoulder at Bilrach, who seemed to be muttering something under his breath. To Moia, he asked, “Do you know Bilrach well?”

“I do,” Moia replied, solemnly. “He and I held hands as we walked into the rift together. But we were torn apart. I thought him lost. I found Zamorak, and he arrived on Freneskae.”

Stopping their walk across the chamber, Moia leaned down towards Jahaan to speak lowly, “Bilrach has sacrificed a lot in order to provide my master sanctuary. When I first found him, he was… unrecognisable. Now, he tells me the voices have subsided at the very least. I… I still fear for him.”

Not exactly sure what he was expected to say, Jahaan went with, “I’ll look out for him.”

This was the wrong answer; Moia shot him a glare that could melt mithril. “He doesn’t need you looking out for him.”

She stormed off across the chamber, sharply motioning for Jahaan to follow with a reluctant grunt of, “Come on.”

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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[kopfkinoes]

Poldark is seriously such a great series. With every new season, every new episode it seemed to me to only be getting better and better. I really hope they give fans an actual finale and don’t call it off at 6 episodes, now, in the last season. There’s another series that ended with a 6 episode season and we all know how that went down. 

That being said, I do have one complaint so far about the 5th season, which I find otherwise flawless. What the fuck was up with Demelza being ok with that nutjob Tess, whom Demelza employed after Tess set her house on fire, no less, telling her “Not all of us are fortunate enough to sell our bodies to our master in exchange for a wedding ring?”. Demelza smiling at that and going “She’s right. I knew what I was doing when I went into Ross’ room that night. He’s an honourable man and I took advantage of that.”....that shit was whack. Like, why suddenly this “Demelza trapped Ross into a marriage” plot (which, when Demelza herself says it, in front of her friends, no less, becomes 100% factual) when so far we’ve been told, by Demelza herself that she’s loved Ross since the beginning and that’s why she slept with him? Like, she told Verity that in season 1, right after they were married. She told Drake about that in season 4 (I think) when he was supposed to marry Rosina. Why suddenly this “Demelza plotted this” bullshit that really makes Demelza look like an opportunist who was only after becoming a lady? 

I am honestly quite surprised to see people pity George. Maybe it’s because I’ve binge watched the series in 2 months or so and I haven’t experienced the breaks between seasons that people who have been watching since 2015 have (which allow them to forget things a bit, maybe) but I felt no pity whatsoever. It is unfortunate that his wife died and I really liked Elizabeth. But how much suffering did George cause and he didn’t cause it unwillingly. He had no remorse about anything. His love for Elizabeth was his only redeemable quality and even that doesn’t account for much because it is due to him that Elizabeth died. I know people seem to blame Ross for it and I understand his sleeping with Elizabeth definitely played a part but, if you want to split hairs, then Geoffrey Charles is equally guilty because of his “Valentine is the spitting image of uncle Ross.” because George had let it go before that.

I don’t know whether Geoffrey Charles does it do spite George or simply because he’s unaware, but it is that which triggers the reminder of Aunt Agatha’s remark and spurns George back on track. Frankly, it is his hate boner for Ross because although he is right in assuming Valentine isn’t his biological son, he wouldn’t have noticed it unless Agatha and Geoffrey Charles, two people whom he knows despise him, hadn’t brought his resemblance to Ross to attention. He has no proof other than the word of those two who are founding members of the Anti-George Committee but his belief that Ross is always out to play him for a fool (because he put toads in his pants when they were kids lmao woe is you, George; and because he believed Ross and Francis hated him because his grandfather was a blacksmith which we know is bullshit because Champion of the People Ross Poldark wouldn’t fucking do that) he believes it 100%. 

It is frankly Valentine I felt most sorry for. His baby sister had her nurse but Valentine was so lonely and that’s really sad for a child. I do wish Ross could take him in although I don’t think Demelza would like that. But I felt no compassion for George. How many people starved and died because of George? How many died of pneumonia or other diseases in his mines? He sent rape victims to prison and rewarded the rapists as magistrate. He sentenced people to 20 lashes for stealing one pheasant. He had Ross arrested and nearly killed for taking his people to grab provisions off his sinking ship, although none of the crew were killed. He wanted to get Sam and Drake Carne hanged although he knew they were innocent. As MP he was viciously against the poor. He bought a whole borough and threatened and bribed one of its elected members to give up his post in the Parliment for him when he realized he won’t be re-elected, while the other man he just bribed to vote as he wished. He bought voters for the re-election via Elizabeth’s Chynoweth family ties and by threatening to ruin them financially if they did otherwise. He destroyed Pascoe’s Bank. He forced Morwenna (admittedly, Elizabeth played a part in this too) into a marriage with a man who raped her multiple times, cheated on her with her own sister as well as prostitutes, nearly had her committed to a mental asylum to get rid of her and upon whose death his wretched mother made it impossible for Morwenna to ever see her son again. He made a bet with Monk Adderley that Adderley will sleep with Demelza which almost ended in her being raped. He basically caused Aunt Agatha’s death (keeping her in the cold, refusing to let her eat, gave her a heart attack during their last conversation). He seems to be supportive of slavery, wants to add his name to business driven by slave labour with no problems. Believed the Irish had to suffer some more, that they deserved a “strong hand” or something like that. Didn’t give a shit that people, many of them children, were caught in an explosion in his mine. Ross freaking saved him from an angry mob (twice) and he had to be a little bitch nevertheless. He says his intended new bride “will have to make the best of it”. He took Wheal Grambler and Wheal Leisure and Trenwith just because he has a hate boner for the Poldarks, just to hurt them not because he needed them. And he seems to be just as despicable from now on. Jack Farthing is a great, absolutely brilliant actor. George’s grief and insanity are very believable and the methods via which he is treated (before Dwight) are shit. But the man has done way too many evil things for me to have compassion for him from just that.

[mysteriousgoldentriangle]

Halloween vibe stories

Stories that have the seasonal feeling. These are just some I could think of on top of my head. If I am missing one message me so I can add on to the list. Happy reading! stay safe :)  

Trick or Sweet Mabel sets Bill and Dipper up on a trick-or-treating date that they don't even realize is a date.

A Triangle in the Woods Deep in the forests of the mountain lies a haunted plot of land. A cabin that's theorized to be ruled by the most ruthless, terrifying demon that's ever existed on our plane of existence. Only the bravest and stupidest souls ever dare to tread there, and those who already have refused to even speak of it led alone go back. There's never been a single soul that's made it back fully sane… And Bill intends to keep it that way, damn it. No matter how DIFFICULT this stupid group of brats may be, they WILL leave that cabin running and screaming for their lives! Even if Bill has to destroy himself in the process!

The Bill Haunting When Dipper gets kidnapped by teenage boys in a cult, an evil spirit named Bill Cipher surprisingly saves him. Dipper slowly gets to know Bill and realizes the ghost is more human than he thought.

The Blindeye Murderer In the shadows of New York City there lurks a murderer that has never been caught before. He kills all his victims the same way, by cutting open the chest and ripping out the heart. He doesn't stop there. This murderer always, always, takes the eyes of his victims. Dipper Pines wants to be the first one to catch him and put an end to all the killings. However, what happens when he finds out the killer is the very same man he falls deeply in love with, Bill Cipher?

Golden Hills When Dipper falls for a mysterious stranger, his humdrum life takes an unexpected and dangerous turn. Trapped in a house of ghosts, nightmares, blood, and gold, Dipper can't decide between his own sanity or his new life with a man who may have more than just a skeleton in his closet. Based on the movie Crimson Peak.

Prey Dipper Pines works a summer job volunteering at the Gravity Falls, Oregon State Asylum in 1964. He thought he's seen everything until a new patient arrives a week before his 16th birthday. (depictions of rape, smut, and super jealous/protective Bill moments are contained in this book. Proceed with caution)

Everything you say is like music to my ears Bill~ Bill Loves Dipper very much, but in an extremely wrong twisted kind of way, Dipper wants nothing to with it, but he wasn`t given a choice in the first place.

Gone He whispers more praises. They curl in Dipper’s mind, sick seeds of something that resembles love. Perhaps obsession. It sits in his stomach like cyanide and poisons his blood.

Surrender to me Pinetree Bill Cipher loved his little Pinetree, But the boy didn`t love him back, He said he wanted proof well proof is what the boy wants then proof it is what he`s gonna get.

Don`t scream anymore my Pinetree~  Dipper Pines is a famous singer, His life could be called perfect, well that is until he starts receiving horrifying letters from someone who claims to be his biggest fan, His fear is getting bigger and bigger with every day, He hopes that everything turns out alright, but the newest letter tells him that it will not be like that.

Haunted Dipper knows that Bill is watching him and he also knows that he will never ever get away from him, He finally understands that now.

damnatis daemonium Historical!AU: 19-year-old Dipper volunteers himself as an offering to a demon so that he can finally join the famed Brotherhood. Of course, nothing goes to plan, and they summon the wrong demon.

Raised Spirits Dipper's always been into the supernatural. Especially ghosts, and hauntings. And everyone says the Cipher place is haunted. Dipper's not so sure about that... but it's worth checking out.

Wonderland Dipper was lonely sometimes. Mabel had her friends, Wendy and Soos had their own lives, Grunkle Stan teased him and never believed him about anything supernatural. Dipper wished that there was someone he could talk to about his adventures or just have a friend in general. Then he meets a man named Bill who believes him and everything about him is wonderful and very quickly Dipper finds himself falling down into a dark wonderland. THIS IS AU-ISH: This story takes place a bit before Boss Mabel, and then goes a bit AU from after that until it will completely diverge from the canon plot line.

The World That Faded Away / The Boy That Time Forgot When life hit Dipper Pines it hit Dipper Pines hard. Trainwreck hard. This was a statement that all who knew the boy could agree on. Life had taken a liking to the boy in the same way a feline had taken a liking to a particularly delicious mouse; it had trapped him, toyed with him, before swallowing him whole. As a result, the eighteen-year-old had horrific luck and a habit of getting himself and others into extremely bad situations. Like selling his soul to Bill CipherWho is only too happy to take what is, and has always been, his.

Defying Destiny Bill Cipher always dreamed of finding his other half. In his world, finding ‘the one’ meant so much. You were destined to be together, time and death would literally have no effect on your body until they day you unite. The most romantic stories have been passed down by people accidentally meeting the one and not knowing until they realize one day that ‘hey, when did my heart start beating again?’ It fills you up and makes you whole, you can enjoy the rest of your life with someone you know you're meant to be with, who is truly compatible with you like no other ever could be. Yes. Bill Cipher always dreamed of finding his other half. And killing him.

Touch Bill will make sure that no one will ever touch his little angel again. He`ll make sure they`ll all pay, and only then can he make his angel pure again.

Saligia Dipper and Mabel return to Gravity Falls five years later to be welcomed by the same amount of weirdness, only this time things get a bit darker. Hormones and supernatural forces make sure nothing goes right and on top of that Dipper has to deal with a horrifying dream demon. Will they solve the ancient mystery they're faced with or will everything go horribly wrong?

Intoxicated Obsession Obsession. That was the one word to describe what he felt towards Dipper Pines. Bill wanted Dipper to love him. And it was driving him insane. Ever since Bill cipher laid his eye on Dipper Pines, he knew that he wanted him, and Bill always got what he wanted.

Monsters "Stanleys recovered memories weren't enough to bring me back." Of course, this wasn't the reason. "It was you, Pine Tree. You and your strange obsession with me." No need to tell him. Dipper knew. It was his fault entirely. "Dipper Pines, you are truly messed up."

The Legacy of a Broken Heart And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreams Are where thy grey eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams.

Hidden Beneath Gold In a small village, Dipper and Mabel Pines work to exhaustion to get money for their sick grunkle. Dipper has the most dangerous job and many threats to the people are at large in the forests, mountains, valleys, practically outside of the village. Dipper is willing to do anything for his family and packed with lost hope and negative thoughts, he accidentally stumbles across the most infamous threat to any village.

The Gospel of Dipper Pines "Is what they say true? Pine Tree's dead?"  Dipper Pines spent years going back and forth between his home in California and his summer adventures in Gravity Falls. Mabel Pines spent years trying to tame her bipolar disorder and live a mostly normal life. For years, their lives seemed destined to stay eternally separate from one another. That is until Dipper is murdered. Now, Mabel must piece together the remains of the life her twin once lived if she hopes to discover out who killed him. But Gravity Falls is not a town for the normal and, as Mabel delves deeper into the life Dipper once lived, she has to wonder if she really knew her twin at all. AU in which Dipper went to Gravity Falls alone. Incomplete, but has an ending summary.

Blood, Tears, and Puppy Dog Ears Ever since he could remember, a voice in Dipper's head always told him what to do. After following its orders and murdering the family dog, his parents send him and Mabel away to Gravity Falls, in need of 'fresh air' to 'cure his twisted young mind.' But the voice only intensifies, surrounded by endless mysteries. (A dark Billdip story)

The Triangle Murders To everyone's surprise, after college Mabel went on to become an agent for the FBI while her brother Dipper moved to Gravity Falls to run the shack alongside his great-uncle Stan. Currently following a series of murders, Mabel returns to Gravity Falls on less than ideal terms in order to investigate the latest victim. She hopes that with a little outside help from the closest person to her in the whole world, she can solve this case lickety-split. Can she catch a serial killer that's always two steps ahead and always watching?

[mariequitecontrarie]

Marigolds

Summary:  It’s Rumple and Belle’s wedding anniversary, and Rumple is celebrating another year alone. Stuck in Hyperion Heights with no way to join Belle in the afterlife, he finds an unlikely confidante in his partner, Rogers. Post 7x18 The Guardian. A/N: I have a lot of feelings about Rumbelle and the Wish Hook/Rumple friendship. There’s also some Woven Knight Rook and a Rogers/Sabine crush implied. Did I mention my feelings? Because yeah. WC: 5700   Rating: G

On AO3

“At least let me drive you home,” Rogers says.

Rumplestiltskin glances at his watch with a self-conscious sigh. His partner’s requests have turned into badgering. This marks the fifth time his partner has volunteered to escort him back to his apartment in the past 90 minutes—proof he must look as lousy as he feels.

Rogers’ pity-filled eyes stray from the chessboard to the blue vase filled with flowers on the corner of his desk. The office air is thick with unspoken questions, but his partner doesn’t ask and Rumple doesn’t offer.

The flowers are for Belle.

In every realm they called home—whether in Storybrooke, the Dark Castle, or living out Belle’s years together on the Edge of Realms—the two of them planted a huge garden filled with flowers. Roses, primarily, but also larkspur, snapdragon, bleeding hearts, and poppies. But Belle always insisted on planting marigolds adjacent to the vegetables.

Marigolds are an ugly flower in his estimation. Coarse and common, insistent on being everywhere at once, possessing a musky, pungent odor he finds repellent. Rather like himself.

“Marigolds never give up,” Belle used to say, her hands covered in dirt. “They always hold their heads up high, even in the hottest part of summer. They attract the bees and protect the vegetables.”

“They smell dreadful,” he would contend, holding his nose in a theatrical flourish.

“I think they smell like sunshine.” Belle would draw his hand away from his face and lay her head against his chest. “True beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

There was nothing he would refuse his wife, so as day followed night, marigolds they would plant. And after a time, he learned to tolerate the stubborn, garishly colored blooms, if only because their presence meant plump red tomatoes on their dinner table and radiant smiles on his wife’s face.

So to celebrate their anniversary, he assembled a bouquet of roses, marigolds, and peonies at a flower stand this morning. Crimson roses to symbolize the fragile unfurling of their love; cream peonies in honor of their wedding day; and yellow marigolds because they flourish in any and all circumstances, much the way he thrived with Belle at his side.

Rogers gives him another meaningful glance, and Tilly feigns a yawn, stretching her arms above her head. The languid motion is debunked when she leans over the chessboard to snatch Rogers’ rook with a gleeful laugh.

Rumple snorts. Two hours ago, they pulled a worn card table out of Rogers’ office and started one of their spirited chess games two feet away from his desk. Should he have the notion to move around in this crackerjack box or gods forbid—leave the room—he’d have to trip over his unwelcome guests.

Instead he’s staying planted in his desk chair. After Tilly tried to drag him to the bowling alley around the corner for some “quality time,” he decided letting her and Rogers keep him company here was the less exhausting course of action. If there’s one role he excels at, it’s pretending, but there’s no way in seven hells Rumplestiltskin will be seen wearing bowling shoes in Hyperion Heights or in any realm, even if he does have to wear jeans and fake a cockney accent. He still has some pride.

Usually, Rogers and Tilly’s easy banter and gentle ribbing puts a smile on his face. Tonight, however, all he wants is to send them home with a flick of his wrist.

But he won’t. Magic got him into this mess in the first place.

It’s been a scant twenty-four hours since the dagger went missing and he discovered it in Tilly’s backpack. One short day since he learned that here in this world, even under a curse, she is still the Guardian. Yet—with more information and resources in the palm of his hand since he began his quest to be rid of the knife for good—he’s never been farther away from Belle. Today he mourns her loss all over again, and being alone on their anniversary makes the everyday ache in his chest sharper, more acute. He presses a clenched fist against his heart, wondering if the hollow place Belle once filled with kisses and smiles and laughter will ever be whole again.

“C’mon, mate.” Rogers jiggles his car keys. “You look like hell.”

“How fortunate for us all that my ugliness doesn’t stop me from operating a car,” Rumple growls. He waves a hand over the Candy Killer paperwork littering his desk with a huff of disgust. “In case you missed it, mate, there’s work to be done.”

“You. Doing actual police work?” Rogers asks.  

Both he and Tilly raise an identically-shaped eyebrow, and Rumple barks a humorless laugh. Like father like daughter.

“What’s funny?” Tilly asks, the lines of tension in her face relaxing into a sunny smile.

“Other than Rogers’ pathetic chess skills?” Rumple’s lips twitch in a small smile, swamped with a fresh wave of regret for making Tilly worry. “At my advanced age, a great many things amuse me. But you two attempting to babysit me has to be near the top of the list.”

“So you’ll let me help you wrap the case, then?” the pirate-turned-cop asks.

‘Who knew when you were assigned as my partner, I would be getting my very own Boy Scout.” Rumple twists the pinky ring Belle gave him as a gift on their fifth anniversary round on his finger. The words on the pages of paperwork blur in front of his weary eyes, but he won’t admit defeat. Not until he finds a loophole to trap Facilier. “You saved Henry and apprehended the Candy Killer. I’ll take it from here.”

After kidnapping Henry, Nick Branson, known as the Candy Killer, was brought into custody. Before they could begin questioning him, they found him dead in the interrogation room. No blood, no scratches, and the medical examiner reported that Nick was stabbed through the heart from inside his body. Only dark magic could accomplish such a task. Gothel, maybe? Or perhaps another member of her coven preempted Nick, afraid he would be released to strike again. The more likely culprit was Facilier, and the triangular pin Rumple found at the scene confirmed his suspicions.

But how can he explain what happened to Rogers, who is unaware of the double life they all lead? Should he say a powerful witch doctor used dark magic to murder Branson? He would drive him down the road to the insane asylum.  

The truth is no use to him, anyway. He’s out of options and short on allies. After he stole Regina’s cure for Henry in his search for the dagger, she won’t take his calls, and he’s too ashamed to look at his grandson. Thank the gods Gideon is safe in another realm, even if he doesn’t know where his papa is.

The least he can do is take care of Rogers and Tilly, the only two living souls in all the realms who are still speaking to him, even if neither one knows what he truly is. Once a monster, always a monster.

He drums his fingers on the table and rakes a hand through his hair. He needs to spin, if only he had his wheel, and be alone. To think, to figure out this whole mess. Would Tilly and Rogers ever go home?

“We’re just worried about you, Weaver.” Tilly interprets his agitation as she licks powdered sugar off her fingertips.

Rumple rolls his eyes. With Tilly, worrying seems to involve games, books, and food.

An hour into their game, they ordered Chinese takeout and urged him to eat, but he couldn’t force a single bite past his lips. He even refused to touch the beignets Sabine dropped off at the station in a not-so-subtle bid to impress Rogers.

He tried not to smirk when he accepted Sabine’s little brown bag of sugary fried dough on Roger’s behalf, but the blush on her cheeks and the way her bright, questioning eyes darted around the office made it clear she was looking for his tall, dark partner.

Rumple is no expert in love and attraction, but he remembers Belle’s soft looks and tender smiles, and the way they never failed to turn his stomach inside out, leaving him breathless and out of his depth.

Besides, listening to Rogers stammer when he told him his sweetheart was looking for him was the best entertainment he’d had since Tilly got a job to support her marmalade habit.

If nothing else, Rogers and Tilly’s lives are a pleasant distraction from his bleak, endless existence.

“I suppose this is your idea of heroism, sweetheart, saddling me with these two.” He reaches for the vase to run his thumb over the head of a marigold, murmuring to Belle as though she is sitting next to him, just as she did every day of their seventy-year marriage. “Belle, I miss you. I wish you were here to tell me what to do next.”

“Who are you talking to?” Rogers eyes him askance, and sends Tilly concerned glance number 572. Not that he’s counting.

“Myself,” he barks, hunching over the desk filled with paperwork to hide his flushed face. He didn’t know he’d actually spoken to Belle out loud, but he’s taken to doing it more and more in the weeks since the gunshot wound Tilly inflicted woke him from the curse.

He needs Belle here to protect him from himself. Old habits are creeping back in, desperation in the driver’s seat. He fantasizes about using one of Facilier’s pin cushions against him, or hurling a stake through Gothel’s heart. It won’t put an end to this damn curse, but it will make him feel a hell of a lot better.  

Tilly clears her throat. “Weaver, you want some of this lo mein before I finish it off?” She holds out a set of clean chopsticks, fingers trembling.

“I’ll pass, thanks.” He offers her another fond smile to soften the gruffness of his refusal. “You eat it. You need your nourishment.”

“‘Kay.” She shrugs and shovels a massive bite of noodles into her mouth, but since they found his dagger in her knapsack, she’s been skittish, as though she’s afraid he’s going to lose his temper again.

Black ink drips down his fingers and he realizes he’s crushed the pen in his hand. Somehow, he expected the road to redemption to be easier. When he thought the dagger had been stolen, the truth became clear: Every good deed has been done with the expectation of getting something in return.

Maybe Regina is right, and he hasn’t changed a bit.

Disgusted with himself, he wipes his hands on a pile of Mr. Wong’s carryout napkins and hurls them at the wastebasket.

“Every selfless act brings me closer to you, my love.” He repeats his mantra in a ragged whisper, but after what he did yesterday, the words no longer hold any hope.

To punish himself, he stayed up all night, torturing himself with memories of sweeter wedding anniversaries. Long walks in the sunshine and picnics in the park; Gideon toddling into his mama’s waiting arms; Belle perched at the end of a long table like a queen, surrounded by mountains of dusty, fat books; spending the entire day in bed making love just because they could.

Gods, how good life had been with his wife in the world. And what he wouldn’t give for one more hour with his head in Belle’s lap while she reads him a story and strokes his hair.

Tilly rocks back on the hind legs of her chair and squints at him, then snaps her attention back to the board. She rolls the white queen between her thumb and forefinger, considering her next move. Rogers is two moves away from checkmate, but Rumple knows he will misstep on purpose and draw the game out.

“We’ll finish up later, then?” Tilly asks Rogers. “I’ve got to get to bed ‘cause work starts bright and early. Sabine said she nearly doubled her sales the day after I passed out samples, and she wants me to do it again.”

A flush creeps up Rogers’ neck at another mention of Sabine, and Rumple grins in spite of his foul mood.

“The ones you brought into the station yesterday were gone in minutes,” he praises. “Sabine is lucky to have you. She thinks you’re a born saleswoman.”

“No surprise they were eaten so fast,” Tilly says, ducking her head in modesty. “Coppers and doughnuts, right? I tried to convince Sabine her beignets would be lovely dipped in marmalade. She liked the idea, but insisted on making some sort of rum sauce instead.”

“Rum, eh?” He wonders if Rogers still has a fondness for the stuff under the curse. Pirates and rum; as synonymous in their old world as police officers and doughnuts are in this one. Rumple smothers his laughter, the sound coming out like a wheeze.

“Now why are you laughing?” Tilly asks, giving him a light punch on the shoulder.

“You, trying to convince your boss to add marmalade to her menu.” The girl’s weakness for citrus preserves was one of her more delightful quirks. The day they met in the Enchanted Forest, he’d come through the portal, weary and heartsick from losing Belle. She’d scolded him for upsetting her search for the white rabbit, then offered him a jam sandwich from her knapsack, insisting he share her lunch because he “looked like hell.”

Some things haven’t changed.

“Weaver?” Tilly clasps her hands behind her back and tilts her head. “I know you’re missing her , especially today, but are we...okay?”

He sighs. “It’s like I told you last night by the troll, Tilly. I’m not angry with you; I’m angry with me.”

“Please let Detective Rogers take you home,” she whispers, laying a hand on his arm. “I’m afraid something else terrible will happen. You’re a good man. I don’t want you to be hurt.” Her gaze wild, she looks around the shadowed station and shivers.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, dear.” He struggles to swallow, touched by her concern. “How about I make you a deal. You promise to go straight home and lock the door, and I’ll let Detective Rogers stay with me until I’m done working. Will that satisfy?”

“Thank you.” She nods, her eyes shiny with tears, then puts on her coat and slips out into the night. He stands at the window with Rogers and watches her until she’s out of sight.  

Rogers yanks a chair over to his desk and straddles it, all business the moment Tilly disappears. “What the hell is going on with you? I’ve never seen you like this.”

Rumple doesn’t look up from the desk, still littered with ink-splashed files. “Whatever do you mean, detective?”

“Scared—same as yesterday when you bit my bloody head off. Now you’re hiding behind paperwork and skipping out to buy flowers. And since when have you worked by the book?”

“Since nothing else I’ve tried has been successful,” he admits, looking up from the piles of paper.

“Whatever’s going on, tell me. I can take it,” Rogers says. “I’m your partner. We’re supposed to help each other.”

Rogers’ concern fills him with an odd mixture of fury and affection. It’s strange, yearning to be alone in his misery, but sharing his burdens holds appeal, too. Confiding in Tilly would be his preference, but the girl is fragile, especially after last night. He won’t burden her with his pain.

“Would you care for tea?” he asks, resigned to playing host. He seems to remember Hook appreciating the beverage, or maybe that was the other version of him; the one who was back in Storybrooke and married to Emma Swan. “It’s only bags, but it’s tolerable. I don’t have any rum, but there’s whiskey if you need something stronger.”

“Rum?” Rogers wrinkles his nose. “Never touch the stuff. Funny thing, ever since I moved to the Heights, people are constantly offering it to me. You’d think I was a pirate, instead of a cop.”

“Indeed.” He holds back a smile. Oddities in a curse were inevitable. Poor Rogers was in for quite a surprise when rum-loving Captain Hook woke up.

“Tea would be grand,” Rogers says, nodding at the colorful bouquet on the corner of his desk. “Why the flowers?”

Rumple turns to the water filter to fill their teacups with hot water, grateful to occupy his hands with a menial task. “It’s our wedding anniversary.” He shrugs. “Those are her favorites.”

“Will you tell me about her?” Rogers asks. “Your wife?”

“Belle. Her name is Belle.” Settling behind the desk again, he slides a steaming mug toward Rogers, and wraps his hands around the chipped cup. He inhales the steam, taking solace in the smooth warmth of the porcelain.

Rogers smiles when he notices. “The cup you fixed. Her favorite, isn’t it?”

He nods. Repairing their teacup had been worth every squirt of glue and weeks of sticky fingers. It’s the only tangible reminder he has of Belle in this world, and he carries it between the police station and his apartment every single day.

“You mentioned you’ve been separated.” Rogers gestures at the flowers.”How? Does she live here in the Heights?”

Rumple winces. “The truth is complicated.”

“It always is with you.” Rogers sighs. “But you can trust me. I recognize when a man’s trying to atone for something. Why aren’t you together now? Was it divorce? Betrayal?”

“Nothing like that.” He thinks back on shaking Hook’s hand outside Alice’s home, the day they’d agreed to start a new story. He wonders if the offer of friendship will still stand once the veil of the curse has been pulled back. “I’m a difficult man to love, but she always saw the best in me.”

Rumplestiltskin adds a healthy dose of whiskey to both cups of tea. He misses drinking proper tea, the way Belle used to make it, but the other cops already give him strange looks for sipping out of a dainty porcelain cup with a large chip out of the rim. About once a week, someone deposits a new, oversized ceramic mug in the center of his desk, usually filled to the brim with coffee.

He dunks his teabag up and down in the hot water, then plucks the soggy bag out of the cup and sets it on a napkin on his desk, watching the brown liquid seep into the paper.

“I’m a father, too,” he confesses. “Two wonderful sons.”

Rogers gives him a blank look. “Congratulations. Where are your boys?”

“Gideon lives in another rea-...” Rumple clamps his mouth shut, saying too much for the second time in as many hours. He never figured the pirate for such a good confidante, but now that he’s started talking, the words come quick and easy. “He’s a scholar and a teacher. Moved to another country. I don’t see him nearly as often as I would like, but it’s enough to know he’s safe. Gideon is our youngest. Our first son, Baelfire, he died a hero.”

“War?” Rogers tsks in sympathy.

He inclines his head. Baelfire had spent years battling the darkness on his papa’s behalf. “Of sorts.”

Rogers takes a sip of the whiskey-laced tea. “I’m sorry. Losing a child...well, I can’t imagine carrying such a burden.”

Rumplestiltskin bites the inside of his cheek, oddly thankful once more for the ignorance of the curse. Not knowing Tilly is his daughter spares Rogers a bit of suffering. “I only wish I could have traded my life for Bae’s,” he says.

“I hope all fathers feel that way about their children,” Rogers says with a smile. “But you must have a way to reunite with your Belle. A stubborn, resourceful bastard like you.”

“I do. I did. But I’ve squandered my chances, done terrible things. Actions which can’t be undone.” With his head bowed, the truth he’s avoided saying aloud comes out in a painful rush. “I took something valuable, and it cannot be replaced. Belle would be gravely disappointed in me.”

“I've the feeling she would understand.” Rogers drains his mug and Rumple pours another three fingers of whiskey into each cup. “Wasn’t it you who told me there’s always a chance to make things right?”

“Maybe for others, but not for me,” he says, chagrined. “I’ve had more chances than anyone, and it’s my turn to pay the price.”

Rogers shakes his head. “I don’t believe that at all. You may be rough around the edges, but you’re one of the good guys. I feel it.”

“Now you sound like my wife.”

“Wise woman.” Rogers leans forward, his face etched with curiosity. “What is she like?”

Emotion overwhelms him and he fights back tears. “Like no one I’ve ever known or could hope to know again. Fearless, intelligent, beautiful inside and out. Someone whose view of the world is so much larger than her place in it.”

“Nothing like you, then.” Rogers grins and tosses back his drink.

The laugh is sorely needed. “You’re not wrong. Belle is a great deal too good for me. Much the way people ignore Tilly, nobody really saw her. They accepted what she offered: brains, extraordinary research capabilities, command of extinct languages, but they often took her for granted.” He throws back another gulp of whiskey and gives them both another refill. “I’ve lost count of the ways she helped and supported and befriended people.”

“Sounds like an extraordinary woman.”

“Yes. You would like her, I think.” Rumplestiltskin smiles sadly. Neither one of them has uttered the word dead and he’s grateful. It helps to talk about Belle in the present tense, as though she’s still among the living. “Our relationship was at times tumultuous and controversial. I hurt her in terrible ways. But she always saw the best in me and she never gave up on showing me what kind of man she saw on the inside. Loving her, living by her side, having her goodness and kindness as my example. She changed my life.”

“Anyone who loves someone the way you do Belle—you’re her legacy, mate,” Rogers says. “Even when you’re not together, wherever you go, she goes, too.”

He never figured on the pirate as a source of wisdom. “That’s a pleasant thought.”

“Do you have a photograph I can see?”

Rumple hesitates, reluctant to let go of the hard-won image even for a moment. This morning in the shower, after he over-steeped his tea and misplaced his handcuffs, he panicked because he couldn’t recall the exact shade of blue of Belle’s eyes. While the water poured over him he sobbed, hot tears flowing down the drain with the soap-tinged water. When he was supposed to be questioning a witness, he ransacked the evidence locker to find a picture of her. An object to hold onto.

With tender care he pulls out the creased, faded photograph he unearthed after three hours of searching boxes and files. It was autumn, a few days after Gideon’s birthday. In the picture, they’re sitting on the front porch of their house with suitcases packed, pots brimming with Belle’s marigolds on either side. Their arms are linked, Belle’s smile bright enough to rival the sun. “This was taken when we began our travels,” he tells Rogers.

“She’s beautiful,” Rogers says, leaning across the desk to smile down at the image. “What do you suppose it’s like, the other side?”

“Tilly once told me it’s a place where you forget about life’s troubles and get to be with the people you love forever. Knowing my Belle, she’s found herself a library.” He can picture his wife, radiant and waiting for him in a garden bursting with roses, peonies, and marigolds, her pretty nose buried in a book.

Rumple stares at Belle’s face long and hard, memorizing every nuance of her features, then pours another round of shots into the teacups. Some of the whiskey dribbles on the desk, and he frowns at the amber liquid, everything feeling hazy and dark. His eyes burn with tears. “I’ve gone on too long. I’m starting to forget her.”

Rogers switches off the desk lamp, then leans back in the chair to study his partner.

Weaver is snoring, his head cushioned by his arms, which are folded on top of the desk. Those sardonic, oddly ancient eyes are closed, the lines of his face relaxed in slumber. He didn’t come out and say his wife was dead, but Rogers is a fair hand at reading between the lines. The loss explains so much about his partner, who wears grief like a suit of armor and swings between excessive caution and recklessness.

Weaver has talked of yearning to get back to Belle, and for the first time Rogers considers whether he might be on some sort of suicide mission.

He tries to puzzle out his partner’s cryptic words and actions, but his head falls forward, his body craving sleep. He drank a good portion of whiskey and is too drunk to drive home. He reaches into his pocket for his phone tell Tilly he’s running late, but a motion from the corner of his eye stops him. He drops the phone, his fingers crawling slowly toward his holster.

Shimmering light materializes from the shadows, at first formless, then gradually taking shape. It is a petite woman, and she has eyes only for Weaver. Powerful love shines in those soft, blue depths, and Rogers catches his breath, enthralled. No woman has ever looked at him the way this vision stares at his partner, and jealousy simmers in his chest.

Dark curls cascade down her back in a radiant curtain, and she wears a long skirt, a shirtwaist and a vest, clothing from a bygone era. At once he recognizes her from the worn, faded photograph. Weaver’s wife.

She seems to float rather than walk out of the corner, coming up behind Weaver, her expression gentle and filled with the sort of adoration he has only imagined. Her arms wrap around him in a tender embrace, bathing him in the same shimmering golden light that surrounds her body.

Rogers’ eyes prick with tears. It’s an intimate moment between a husband and wife, one he shouldn’t be watching, but he can’t tear his eyes from such a precious sight. When the woman’s bright, sharp gaze settles on him, he digs his nails into his palm. The pain tells him he’s not dreaming.

“I was hoping you’d be awake,” she murmurs near Weaver’s ear.

She says the words more to herself than to her sleeping husband, but Rogers can’t resist asking the obvious. “Why didn’t you come when he was?”

Hands on her hips, she huffs in annoyance, glaring at him like an errant child. “You don’t just appear whenever you want, you know. There are schedules. Waiting lists, Captain.”

“It’s Detective. And you’re Belle,” he says, then clamps his mouth shut. What’s the protocol for talking to a ghost, anyway?

“That’s right.” Her brow wrinkles in a confused frown. “But you’re not the Guardian.” Her mouth doesn’t open, but her words lodge in his brain, the voice a cultured female accent he can’t quite place.

The look she gives him tells him he’s a terrible disappointment, and he can’t help but feel a twinge of hurt. Insulted by a ghost? Ridiculous.

“Guardian? He crosses his arms with a snort, strangely at ease considering who, or rather what, he’s talking to. “As if he’d let anyone guard him from anything? He’s a cranky, cantankerous old bastard.”

She caresses Weaver with her eyes again. “I always have loved a good puzzle.”

“You certainly married one,” he retorts.

She levels him with a look, then her shoulders shake with gentle laughter. “What, you think I haven’t heard that before? I’ll be the first to admit my husband can be difficult. It did take me a little time to get to know him. You will, too.”

“Suppose I am somewhat fond of the old man,” he admits, pleased he’d managed to make her laugh. “Forgive me for staring, but it feels as though we’ve met before.”

“Hmmm.” She slips between his chair and the desk and hoists herself on it, crossing her legs at the ankles. According to those paranormal television shows, the temperature in a room drops when a ghost enters, but the air surrounding Weaver’s Belle is warm, and smells faintly of sunshine and roses. “I knew someone like you once,” she says.

“So this other bloke, he was handsome, charming, quick on the draw?” He attempts a wicked grin.

Again she laughs, a musical, delighted sound, then picks up the chipped teacup and takes a tentative sip. She coughs and sticks out her tongue. “Rumple has forgotten how to make tea, it seems.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “It’s whiskey, love. Rumple? Is that what you call him?”

“Yes.” She tilts her head, studying him, and he has the distinct feeling she can peer into his soul. Her smile widens when she notices the flowers on the desk, and she plucks a marigold from the vase, then runs it up and down her cheek with a contented sigh. “Are these for me? Today is our anniversary.”

“Congratulations.” An ache forms in the region of his heart, a longing for the love and connection these two extraordinary people share, even from beyond the grave. “You must have been happy together.”

Her nod is eager. “We had many wonderful years, raised a son, traveled the world. But even with a lifetime of happiness, it’s never quite enough. Long ago we promised each other forever. Soon he’ll come home to me.”

Fear clogs his throat at the certainty in her tone. “How-how do you know?”

“When you’re awake, everything will become clear.” She flashes another dazzling, dimpled smile.

“Awake? But I’m not…” He blinks, and Belle is behind the desk once more, leaning over Weaver to press a kiss to his cheek, then another to the top of his graying head. When she pulls back, a golden tear is leaking from beneath his closed eyelid.

Belle turns to him again. ““He’s good man with a pure heart, but it’s always been so hard for him to believe in himself. His journey hasn’t been easy and his courage is faltering. But you can’t solve this mystery without my husband. You need him. All of you do.” Her eyes are narrowed toward him, as though she doubts his ability to do anything good at all. “Would you give him something for me when he wakes up?”

Without waiting for a reply, she presses something small, cool, and heavy into his hand. It’s a gold ring, topped with a large moonstone.

“I’ll see that he gets it.” He slips the ring into his jacket pocket. “Can I ask you something in return?” His question should be about the Candy Killer case, or how Hyperion Heights came to be such a strange town, or why it seems however much he longs to travel, he can’t bring himself to venture outside the city gates. Instead his thoughts are filled with Tilly and Sabine. “Will I ever have a great love? Like you?”

“You already do, Captain,” she says, then she melts into the wall and fades out of view.

“Rogers. Rogers, wake up.” Weaver is standing over him, shaking his arm.

He blinks, and the dull grey walls of Weaver’s office come into focus. The bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue on the desk is almost empty. Though his vision is still bleary, he can make out the outline of a flowing blue skirt and hear the echo of a woman’s gentle laughter. Hard as he tries to capture the memory, it evaporates, like droplets of water on the sun-drenched deck of a ship.

“Where is it you said you’re from?” he asks, wincing at the throbbing pain in his temples. His mouth tastes like plywood.

Weaver shoots him a quizzical look. “I didn’t, but before I was with Seattle PD I lived in Maine.”

He slips a cup of water under his nose, and Rogers drinks it in greedy gulps, the liquid cooling his burning throat. “And that’s where you met Belle? In Maine?”

“One of the times,” he mutters under his breath.

“Could you speak up, mate?" He pokes his ear with a finger.

“I said you should get home.” Weaver says loudly, shrugging into a worn leather jacket. “Tilly will be worried.”

"Not that loud," he grumbles. Rogers stands, the motion making him dizzy, and Weaver grabs his arm to steady him. “Seems I drank a bit too much of your whiskey,” he says in apology.

“Sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?” Weaver smiles. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Rogers squeezes the back of his neck and sways on his feet. He could have sworn his partner imbibed twice what he did. “You must have one hell of a tolerance, mate.”  

Placing one hand on the desk for balance, he fishes in his jacket pocket for his keys, but his fingers close around something hard and round. He pulls it from his pocket, holding it in his open palm. A moonstone ring.

Weaver’s face drains of color when he sees the ring. “That’s mine. Wherever did you…”

“I’ve no idea.” Unthinking, he hands over the unusual gold piece. “It was in my pocket.”

“Belle.” The smile on Weaver’s face transforms his features, and he touches his cheek. He slips the ring onto his left hand as though it was made for his finger.

Rogers doesn’t know how or why, but something inexplicable has shifted between he and Weaver tonight, as though their lives are linked in ways they have yet to discover. For the first time he feels like he understands this man he calls a partner. Somehow they’ve become more than colleagues. They are friends.

“There’s a diner round the corner from our flat,” Rogers says, as they approach the office door. “Tilly and I go there sometimes for breakfast. Excellent marmalade, naturally. Meet us there tomorrow before our shift?”

Weaver nods, his footsteps lighter and happier than they’ve been in weeks. “I’d like that.”

Rogers pats his pockets and turns around, realizing he left his keys behind. “Look,” he says, motioning toward the desk. 

All the marigolds from the vase have disappeared, and only the roses and peonies remain. “Belle’s flowers. It’s...bloody magic.”

“No,” Weaver says, his voice soft and filled with awe. “It’s true love."

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