#Enjoy the levity while it lasts folks
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heljay · 3 months ago
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Chapters: 5/? Fandom: 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania (Video Games), 悪魔城伝説 | Castlevania lll: Dracula's Curse, 悪魔城ドラキュラ 闇の呪印 | Castlevania: Curse of Darkness Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya & OC, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya & Trevor Belmont, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya & Grant Danasty, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya & Hector Characters: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya, Belmont Family (Castlevania), Danasty Family (Castlevania), Belnades Family (Castlevania), Trevor Belmont, Grant Danasty, Hector (Castlevania) Additional Tags: MANY more to be added - Freeform, Letters, Family Archives, Found Family Summary:
Alucard spent over 300 years sleeping in his crypt, hidden away from all the world- save for the three familial heads that had discovered him there to begin with while he was awake. The three families dedicate themselves to keeping watch over their friend until the day he finally stirs.
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justinspoliticalcorner · 3 months ago
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Parker Molloy at The Present Age:
Last week, the Harris-Walz campaign released a video featuring Vice President Kamala Harris and her running mate, Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, in a casual conversation at Aretha's Jazz Cafe in Detroit. The video, a slickly produced 10-minute conversation designed to showcase the ticket's chemistry and relatability, sparked predictable right-wing outrage. The only question was what portion of the video the right was going to act outraged about. At the top of the conversation, Walz admitted to enjoying "white guy tacos," explaining they consisted of "pretty much ground beef and cheese." When Harris playfully asked about adding flavor, Walz quipped, "Black pepper is the top of the spice level in Minnesota." This self-deprecating joke about Midwestern culinary blandness quickly became fodder for right-wing outrage, with conservative commentators accusing Walz of "anti-white racism" and self-flagellation. What was meant to be a lighthearted moment of campaign humanization instead became the latest battleground in America's culture wars.
The right’s flaming hot take.
The conservative response to Walz's taco comment was swift and, unsurprisingly, spicy. Ben Shapiro of The Daily Wire tweeted, "See, folks, it's funny that white people hate spices! Not racist at all! Just funny!" He went on to argue that Europeans' historical involvement in the spice trade proved their love for seasoning. Shapiro's colleague, Matt Walsh, took it a step further, describing the exchange as "blatant anti-white racism." He posed a hypothetical: "Imagine if Donald Trump said that a 'black guy taco' was made with fried chicken and watermelon. Nuclear meltdown." This false equivalence ignores the long history of racist stereotypes associated with those foods, as well as the fact that Walz was poking fun of himself and making a lighthearted joke at the expense of a group he was a part of, not smearing an outside group. Even Senator Ted Cruz felt compelled to weigh in, bizarrely tweeting, "Hispanics are not tacos." This non-sequitur seemed to miss the point entirely, as neither Harris nor Walz had made any claims about Hispanic cuisine or identity. The outrage machine kicked into high gear when Mike Cernovich, known for promoting conspiracy theories, accused Walz of lying about his spice tolerance. Cernovich dug up a 2016 recipe for Walz's award-winning "Turkey Taco Tot Hotdish," which included mild green chilies and chili powder. This "gotcha" moment conveniently ignored the fact that hotdish, a Midwestern staple, is hardly known for its heat. Fox & Friends co-host Will Cain questioned Harris's taco expertise, while New York Post columnist Miranda Devine went so far as to describe Walz as "the Uncle Tom of white rural males." The hyperbole reached a fever pitch, with conservatives painting Walz's self-deprecating humor as a betrayal of his race and region. This overwrought reaction reveals more about the right's hair-trigger outrage reflex than it does about Walz's culinary preferences. It demonstrates how easily a moment of levity can be twisted into a culture war talking point, and how desperate some commentators are to find evidence of "anti-white racism" in the most innocent of exchanges.
[...] Beyond that, it feeds into a narrative of conservative victimhood. By framing every joke, product change, or casting decision as an assault on traditional values, right-wing media can position conservatives as an embattled minority fighting against a hostile "woke" culture. This persecution complex is a powerful motivator for political action and donations. The constant stream of faux controversies creates a boy-who-cried-wolf effect. When everything is outrageous, nothing is. This makes it easier to dismiss genuine concerns and criticisms as just another example of "cancel culture" or "political correctness run amok." The "white guy tacos" incident is a perfect example of this in action. A harmless joke about food becomes, in the hands of right-wing commentators, evidence of a grand conspiracy against white identity. It's a tempest in a taco shell that reveals the true ingredients of conservative media's secret sauce: a dash of fear, a pinch of resentment, and a heaping helping of manufactured outrage.
Right-wing crybabies offended over everything, “white guy tacos” edition: Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz (D) admitted to loving “white guy tacos”, and the right-wing media apparatus had a hissy fit over it.
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devisopod · 3 months ago
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Levity Creek!
Chapter One (?)
Grammar? I hardly know 'er
I really need to brush up but we're going right for it instead. Don't know how often I'll update this, or if it'll get any reception at all. Here you go, folks! Don't expect too much to happen right away.
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Entry 1.
You know, I'm not even sure I could tell you the last time I spent three hours on the phone with someone. Let alone someone I felt growing further from my touch each year, but it was like the connection never really left as soon as we spoke. Hell, it felt like a blessing to hear from Fiddleford — some kind of proverbial spark reignited. Sounds silly, but I swear it's like we were kids all over again.
He always was as friendly as they come, and damn it if I didn't looked up to him for it. The guy could make a friend quicker than I could get my mouth open. Then again, I hardly ever did open it.
Fiddleford's still everything I knew him to be, actually. I guess I'd just been afraid that we were too different nowadays to be as close as we were. After all, he's got a kid now. Tate. How about that?
In his fashion, he forgot why he called me until the very end. He landed a freelance job up in Oregon that he wants my help with. I don't think I've ever agreed to anything quicker. If it'll get me outta here for a while, it's a gift.
I'm heading for Oregon tomorrow. Hope my van makes it.
___
If it weren't for the obnoxious rumble of the engine and the undeniable need to keep the vent windows open to accommodate it, I might have been able to hear the radio. Every now and again, I manage to hear the static of leaving and entering broadcast range — sometimes a dull guitar riff, but nothing satisfying. The speaker nestled in the driver's side has been busted for as long as I can remember. I think I've started to enjoy complaining about it, so I reckon that's why I never fix it. No, instead, I get to sit with my thoughts and a rattling doghouse. In hindsight, it was a miserable choice to make for such a long drive.
In fact, driving from the East Coast to the West Coast in a metaphorical brick, which reaches fifty-five miles an hour on a good day, is undoubtedly one of the stupidest decisions I've ever made. Sure, I could have flown, but then I would have left this marvel of machinery behind. And what am I without my office?
From floor to roof, I'd turned the back of my van into a space as comfortable as my apartment back home. More often than not, I spent my time in it. As long as I could hook it up to a power source, I could relax on the beanbag chair and type for hours. I've gotten better sleep and more work done in the back of this van than anywhere else to tell you the truth. At least, that's been the pattern so far. I'm starting to hope that Oregon changes that. I could use a change.
While I'm excited for the job, it's bound to be a big adjustment. From what I understand, which isn't a lot mind you, Gravity Falls is the town sending out contracts for the construction of the software service. When Fiddleford mentioned the name, I thought he might have been joking, but then I got the document in the mail. It looked incredibly legal, not to mention formal, for such a small job in a place that can only be described as "nowhere". Then again, most places were keen on adapting to new systems so they don't get too far behind.
It sort of made me wonder if the whole "nowhere" front has a purpose. After all, I did sign something that effectively mirrors an NDA.
By the time I reach Oklahoma and park, I recount that I've stopped about ten times for one reason or another. I had stayed in Memphis last night, which wasn't much of an annoyance, but the stops prior had been. A flat tire, the engine stalled, I suddenly really had to use the bathroom. Though that last one seems more like a poor lunch decision, I could almost swear that it was like the universe telling me to turn around and go back home before I got too far. I'd considered it while cursing over the carburetor as it hissed at me.
The only reason I still lay here in my motel with the intention of continuing tomorrow is for Fiddleford if nothing else. I called him when I first got here, half ready to let him know that it's just not a trip I can make, but he sounded so excited that I couldn't bring myself to crush his enthusiasm. He was already planning things we could do and prattling on about places he wanted to take me. The thought of disappointing him seemed wrong.
Pushing the covers of the stiff bed down toward my ankles, I roll onto my side and stare out the window. Each time I shift it feels like I'm getting further from sleep. Either the matress springs make an unholy creaking noise, they press into my back, or the people in the next room over get rowdy.
Eventually, I decide it isn't worth it. If I can't sleep, I may as well get going. So, I grab up my keys and my bag and sling everything into the passenger seat. Slamming the driver's side door shut behind me, I gas up the engine while it whines and protests before it finally relents. It isn't until then that I actually let some relief wash over me.
"I know you're tired," I mumble, "but I gotta get the hell outta Oklahoma."
I started hearing the radio a little more clearly after that.
NEXT
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watching-pictures-move · 2 years ago
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Put On Your Raincoats | Prince of Darkness: Phil Prince Revisited
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When I last visited the depraved, upsetting world of Phil Prince, I did it through a marathon of sorts, watching eight of his films over the course of about a week. Folks, don't do this. I realize that my viewing habits may periodically look to some like a cautionary tale, what happens when you keep consuming swill from the gutter, and this is definitely one of those cases. Not only will you not actually get desensitized, because these movies keep finding ways to surprise you with their repugnance, but you'll also develop a certain Stockholm Syndrome, gelling to their distinct aesthetics, even if they rarely approach what might be considered "good" filmmaking. But the fact is, the runtimes average at less than an hour, and like the roughie equivalent of Lays potato chips, you can't have just one, so naturally I ended up watching a bunch more in a short amount of time. Folks, don't do this.
Tales of the Bizarre is not a standout effort from Prince in any sense, but it is halfassed and pungent in a mixture that only he offers. Here, we meet four women who tell each other sexy stories, which would already be a pretty transparent porno premise, but in this case, the sexy stories they tell each other are about being raped. I do not mean to be insensitive about the topic of sexual assault, but my guess is that this movie does not capture the way it's discussed privately in real life. We start off with a scene where Cheri Champagne calls up a number in a Screw Magazine classified ad and gets a visit from our old friend George Payne, who does his classic scary shouty shtick with aplomb. By the standards of people whose brains haven't been fried by an earlier Phil Prince marathon, this would be a pretty intense and upsetting scene. But for those whose brains are nice and crispy, this will stand out for having been recycled in The Story of Prunella to pad the other movie's runtime, something which pissed off Prince's mob-affiliated boss and Avon theatre chain owner Murray Offen when he tried to release both movies as a double feature on home video.
So my memory of that anecdote kept me from being too repulsed, a reaction that was quickly corrected by the next scene, in which a woman watching news about murderers and rapists in New York is visited by a rapist, whose violent and scatological threats make Payne seem tender and compassionate by comparison. Now, I've enjoyed graphic descriptions of murder in the music of the Geto Boys, but in a scene that's being played for titillation, I admit I was genuinely bothered by the dialogue here. Thankfully, we get at least one moment of levity, when he offers the unusually eloquent threat to "jab [his] bulbous projection into [her] fat hole", and I think there's something interesting about the way this scene plays on anxieties about a crime-ridden world. We then get a still unpleasant but easier to watch scene in sepia tone, followed by one where Prince himself makes an appearance, alternating between shouting directions ("I want two dicks! Two dicks in her mouth!"), lending a helping hand and eating crackers while spectating, dissolving the line between director, performer and viewer in a formally daring (by his standards) move. Alas, the movie ends on a weak note, with all the men from the segments joining the women for an orgy, which like many such scenes, is overlong and unfocused and undoes much of the charge of the preceding film.
Kneel Before Me is unusual in Prince's filmography in that it offers a sophisticated (by his standards) visual style and has something resembling empathy for its protagonist. You see, George Payne just got married to Annie Sprinkle, but despite his desire for a normal love life, he keeps having visions that he's the Marquis de Sade (which everyone pronounces as "Markeese"), BDSM-ing his way through a number of scenes of varying consent with Sprinkle and a bunch of Prince regulars. You get some simple but effective stylization with the black background, red lighting and limited but pointed use of fetish props (namely the St. Andrew's Cross), Payne doing both likable and scary, and a dream structure that gives this a level of ambition not often present in Prince's work. The supposedly terrifying comeuppance for Payne's character (courtesy of a very scary beej by Sprinkle and another character) is easier to watch than a lot of what goes down in Prince's work, but the unexpectedly artful nevertheless wince-inducing closing images certainly have an impact.
Pain Mania is a supposedly documentarian look at live sex shows at a 42nd Street theatre. I say supposedly because the movie is rarely convincing in this sense, recycling scenes from Prince's other movies both for the sex shows and to represent the audience (Marlene Willoughby jacking off two dudes in the front row), and interview subjects and the host ("Nina Nookie", actually Murray Offen's daughter Melissa, who also worked as a set designer on a number of Prince's movies) repeatedly flubbing lines. As far as parodic Prince efforts go, I think Dr. Bizarro offers a better skewering of the white coater than this does for documentaries, although this is fairly pleasant by Prince's standards (assuming you're interested in this world). At the very least, this movie shows the importance of context, with the sex show framing device removing much of the depraved charge that these scenes had in the movies they were borrowed from. I've seen this scene of Annie Sprinkle inserted a marital aid larger than her arm into an actor playing her brother twice now, and I can confirm it's a lot less unpleasant to watch when flute-tinged lounge music plays on the soundtrack.
I understand that Forgive Me, I Have Sinned has been released in a nice restoration. For the sake of cinema, I should have bought a copy. Instead I opted for a shitty, discoloured VHS transfer because it was more readily available, which does a disservice to but doesn't completely hide the compelling lo-fi visual style, not unlike Kneel Before Me. Here we have George Payne listen to the confessions of a few victims of rape, rape one of them and then invite them and their rapists so that the victims can get their revenge through rape. To paraphrase Big Maybelle, there's a whole lotta rapin' goin' on, but the attention given to the visuals makes this a bit easier to watch, in the sense that this looks like an actual work of art produced by someone with clear aesthetic ideas (there are interesting choices in terms of lighting, the use of slow motion, and distorted sounds on the score), and not just some scumbag's home movies or a crude document of depravity. It also helps that Payne acts circles around everyone else, who are less than convincing as their characters, except Ron Jeremy as a character's sleazy boss, although in this case Jeremy's offscreen actions play a big part. And while this ends in an orgy, I think the one here hangs together better than most such scenes, as the sinful atmosphere gives this one a certain participatory charge.
Whatever interesting aesthetic qualities I could find in the last few Prince efforts I watched were totally absent in The Stimulators and The Temptress, two transparently constructed loop carriers without much interesting going on. In The Stimulators, a movie producer watch a bunch of pornographic footage while sexually harassing her assistant as she prepares to cast her next movie. Prince has actually disputed directing this one, and based on the results onscreen, it feels very little like his work, both aesthetically (lots of lounge music) and in terms of sexual content (entirely vanilla), although casting Ron Jeremy (credited as "Ron Geremy") as the victim of sexual misconduct makes this an uneasy watch. There is one amusing moment in one of the vignettes where a character demonstrates a napkin-folding trick, but otherwise this is pretty dull. In The Temptress, a woman meets a friend in a bar and tells him a bunch of sexy stories, none of which she was actually involved in, and then becomes so horny that she starts having sex with her friend and eventually the bartender. This is one Prince does not dispute having directed, although you'd be hard pressed to see much of his style here. There are some laughs from Dave Ruby hanging on to every word of the terribly interesting stories being recounted by the heroine ("That's very interesting. What happened next?"), and one of the vignettes has a somewhat striking sequence involving eye closeups and horny narration, but otherwise this is a pretty uninvolving experience, lacking the charge Den of Dominance imbued into its bar setting or the ability of Dr. Bizarro to find humour in its framing device. It's a little disappointing that my exploration of Prince's work (the ones I have yet to see appear to be lost) ended with something so anonymous, but it is what it is.
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pyrite · 3 years ago
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howdy everyone! i’m excited to share my gift for @smushystrawbabies for the @rdrevents winter exchange! i hope you enjoy it, and happy holidays, cowpokes!
pairing: none / gen summary: pre-canon; while dutch and hosea are hard at work, a young john bullies arthur into finding a little christmas cheer. words: ~1.7k
December 20, 1885
Dutch and Hosea have decided to go on with the usual heist this year, in spite of the recent changes to our gang, as Dutch now calls us. It seems the four of us were no gang at all until little Johnny Marston came along. I do not pretend to know why John changes things, small and scrawny as he is, but supposedly, we are a proper gang now. John seems awful excited about this. “Like Jack Hall,” he says, except Dutch says we are nothing like that gang of degenerate something or others. Perhaps that is why he and Hosea have headed into town to rob some rich old fools at a holiday party while I am stuck here playing warden to the kid.
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“C’mon, Arthur! We’re as much a part of this gang as Dutch and Hosea!”
Not for the first time this evening, and certainly not the last, John has attached himself to Arthur’s side to pester him about this and that. Joining Dutch and Hosea on the night’s job was his first angle, until Arthur shut him down by pointing out that the kind of job they’re running — robbing high society folk at some fancy party, dressed to the nines and speaking as eloquently as any of them — weren’t the kind with room for a twelve-year-old.
“You ask me,” Arthur told him, with the air of a man sharing a long-held secret, “missing out on this job’s its own kind of gift. You ever wear a tie, kid?” And of course John hadn’t, having been a street urchin since he was — well, a younger child than he is. “Like wearing a noose made of silk. And I know you ain’t forgotten that one.”
John’s eyes widened at that, but it only kept him at bay for an hour or so more. He approached next with some idea of robbing a train, ‘til Arthur pointed out there weren’t any trains coming through this town today, nor any time soon. They could rob a stagecoach, John supposed, but he’d had no idea where to find one when Arthur asked. A store, then, or someone leaving one, or —
“Enough!”
John skitters out of Arthur’s tent with all the grace and twice the speed of a newborn deer, nearly careening into one of the wagons in his hurry to put some distance between them. If it weren’t for the fear in those dark eyes of his, Arthur might even laugh — but he remembers too late how little Johnny reacts in the face of a man’s anger.
He softens his voice, though it still reeks of irritation.
“Why are you fixin’ to rob someone, kid? You owe someone money?” He scoffs at his own joke in the hope that a bit of levity might beckon John back into camp from the edge of it. “If you’re in some kind of trouble, you just let me know and I’ll take care of it.”
It isn’t the levity, but the accusation that draws the kid in. “I don’t owe nothin’,” he objects with all the indignation his prepubescent voice can muster. “‘Cept Dutch and Hosea.”
And ain’t that an interesting thought. Looking back, Arthur reckons he might’ve pulled twice his weight around camp in that first year, operating under the same thought. Hell, he’s pulling twice his weight now, except it’s John’s weight he’s pulling instead of some invisible man’s.
Still, Arthur quirks a brow at him. “And you reckon the best way to pay ‘em back for all they’ve done for your sorry ass is to get yourself tossed in jail.”
John opens his mouth to object, but Arthur doesn’t give him the chance.
“Or shot.”
His mouth clamps shut, allowing Arthur a few peaceful moments while he sulks in silence. He’s almost sure it worked before the kid opens his damn mouth again, this time with a melancholic tone that only a kid can muster.
“I just figured… We oughta do something nice for ‘em, since it’s Christmas and all. But I ain’t got any money, and Dutch says I can’t rob nobody ‘til he’s sure I ain’t gonna get caught again.” He shifts a bit as he talks, clearly uncomfortable with the memory hanging around his neck like a goddamn albatross.
Hell if it doesn’t break Arthur’s heart to realize it, just a little bit.
That’s that, then. Always a sucker for a sob story, at least when it comes to kids. Still, he heaves a world-weary sigh as he gets to his feet, rubbing his brow as he struggles to figure out just how this kid managed to work his way under the floorboards of his heart.
“Get your coat, then. Can’t have you freezin’ on our way into town, or Hosea’ll have my head.”
That’s all it takes to spark a new fire in John’s eyes as he scrambles toward their shared tent in search of his coat and the old satchel Arthur handed down to him a week or so ago.
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The ride into the nearest town — and not the one Dutch and Hosea are working, thankfully — takes just under an hour, and John spends damn near all of it talking. He asks about the job they’re gonna pull, what they’ll do with the money, what Dutch and Hosea might like as far as gifts go. When he’s all out of questions, he tells Arthur a few stories about St. Nick that he’s heard plenty of times before, and a few about Christmas at the orphanage, which he surely hasn’t. Hearing those, it’s no wonder he’s excited to do something nice for a change. Surely ladies of the Lord would be a bit kinder than John says, but something in his voice tells him every word is the truth.
All the more reason to make this a decent Christmas, he supposes. Shouldn’t be hard, seeing as he’s never had a good one.
In his eagerness to get started on their heist, John slides right off the saddle and into the dirt as soon as Arthur stops to hitch up. It doesn’t faze him none, as he’s back on his feet in a second and asking questions a little too loudly for such a busy street.
“What’s next, huh? We robbin’ the store? Want me to distract someone while you—”
It takes a hand over his mouth to shut him up, and Arthur’s glad not to feel John’s instinctive bite through his winter gloves. “Next… is shuttin’ the hell up while we’re right in front of the damn store, you fool.” Once John realizes he’s meant to nod his understanding, Arthur lets go of him. “After that… We pick out something nice. Nothing too nice, mind. We ain’t made of money, and neither’s the poor bastard on the other side of the counter.” John nods, miraculously quiet as he awaits the next set of instructions, but none come.
“Go on, then,” Arthur urges. “When you find something, you let me know.”
They spend the better part of a half hour in the store, Arthur casually perusing while John ricochets from one shelf to the next, trying and failing to remain quiet as he hems and haws over his decision. In the interest of keeping the shopkeep at ease about their extended visit, Arthur sets a couple of nice lures on the counter — for Dutch and Hosea, naturally — and a few candies beside them, mostly for John unless he’s inclined to share in the name of holiday spirit or some such. Faced with a treat like that, all his own if he wants it, Arthur imagines the generosity he’s found now won’t last.
The shopkeep seems about ready to ask after the kid when John tugs on Arthur’s sleeve, gesturing him to lean down so he can tell him what he’s found in a way that ain’t half as discreet as he seems to think it is.
“I ain’t breaking my back to bend down to your level, Johnny. Best you just show me what you’ve picked out.”
He rolls his eyes at the shopkeep as John leads him toward some corner display, wordlessly gesturing as if it’s some big secret. There’s a book there that Arthur hasn’t seen in Dutch’s collection, though the author’s name rings a bell. Behind the display, John’s hidden a decent-looking pocket watch — no doubt for Hosea, though he won’t tell him he stole a nicer one off some Jack Hall imposter last week.
Still. The kid has taste, surprisingly enough.
As soon as he opens his mouth, no doubt to ask what the next part of their plan is, Arthur makes no small show of taking both items to the counter and paying for them along with his candies and lures. It’s nothing short of a Christmas miracle that John waits until they’re outside to object to the legality of it all.
“What was all that sneakin’ around for if we weren’t robbin’ him?” He demands as Arthur lifts him onto Hippolyta’s back. “You ain’t gonna turn around and hold him up soon as you send me off, are you? ‘Cause I’ll turn right around, I’ll—”
Goddamn, if the kid can’t talk himself into a tizzy. “First off, you can’t hardly turn a horse any direction but straight. Forget about turning all the way around.”
John pouts, which effectively shuts him up long enough for Arthur to make his point.
“Far as I’m concerned, we’ve done our business here. Ain’t no reason to rob a man who’s just trying to make a living, seeing as it’s Christmastime and all that.” Before John can say anything, Arthur preemptively interrupts him. “What Dutch and Hosea are doing is different. Them’s high society folk, throwing fancy parties just to show off all the money they got in their pockets. Way we see it, if they got enough money to feed half the damn town as well as they do for a night, they can spare a little cash to feed the homeless for a week. Don’t take half as much, neither. People in need just want something to fill their stomachs; they ain’t askin’ for oysters.”
They’re both quiet after that. Arthur because he’s said all he needs to say, and John because he’s thinking on what was said, he hopes. It’d be nice if some of that got through that thick skull of his…
But the first thing he says, about twenty minutes out, is:
“What’s an oyster?”
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calliecat93 · 4 years ago
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One of the biggest criticisms of Volume 4, if not the biggest criticism, was it usage of multiple plotlines. While an ambitious idea, the balance was really off which really affected the pacing. It felt like everything was scattered around and like things were being dragged out, or not even given as much attention as needed. But it looks like with Volume 8, CRWBY is getting a chance to try it again. One advantage is having all the relevant characters in tow main groups so only two major plotlines to focus on. This chapter focuses on RWBNP as they break into the Atlas Military Facility. How will it go? Well... since this is late you already know, but I’m gonna blab anyhow. Enjoy~
Overview
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Team RWBNPM have made it into the military compound and Penny has located where the terminal is. They’re able to wonder around the base undetected via May’s Invisibility Semblance and Penny is able to use Pietro’s credentials to access the doors. They eventually reach an area that even with May’s Semblance, will be too difficulty to get through without being spotted. Penny, however, has a solution. You remember how Harriet pointed out Ruby’s Semblance was more than she thought in V7? Well Penny actually breaks it down here. Ruby essentially breaks down her mass and is able to more or less teleport herself and others before reforming, so Ruby should be able to do this with all of them.
Meanwhile, remember when Watts got taken by security last chapter? Well it’s because Ironwood is now forcing him to work for him, having a whole squadron ready to shoot him to death if he doesn’t comply. What does he need Watts to do? We’ll go into that later. Until then, Watts points out that Pietro’s credentials have been used, causing Ironwood to raise the alarm. This means that the team has to hurry, so they trip a worker with coffee as a distraction. As the guy's co-workers yell at him, RWBNP move past via Ruby’s Semblance as May goes to commandeer a ship.
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Eventually, RWBNP reach the terminal. It is a VERY highly secured area with the door being guarded by some powerful electricity. It’s so secure that no humans even work in there. Penny allows Pietro to take over manually to begin the process of green lighting Amity. During this, Blake expresses concern about ruby and Yang’s fight, though Weiss assures her that sometimes sisters just disagree. Nora also tries to help by pointing out that Jaune, Yang, and Oscar should be fine (haha...) but noticeably leaves out Ren. It’s here that Nora expresses how upset she was about their argument and how just when things look up for them, it goes right back to zero. Even worse, without Ren, Nora doesn’t feel like she even knows who she is aside form the strong girl who hits stuff. Blake and Weiss point out to her that Ren is only a part of her, the rest however also matters and that maybe she can use this chance to discover more about herself.
The process is completed and Penny can now launch Amity. But despite wanting to resume helping Mantle afterwards, both Pietro and the girls believe that it’s best for Penny to remain with Pietro and Maria in Amity once it launches. This disappoints her. As the group gets ready to leave, they are confronted byt he Ace-Ops. Vine tries to reason with the g4roup, but they continue to refuse. it doesn’t help when Harriet and Elm essentially blame Penny for Winter’s condition and accuse her of stealing the Maiden power, nor does Harriet threatening to lock up Ruby alongside her uncle. To no one’s surprise, the group refuses, so the Ace-Ops trap RWBN in the room, leaving Penny to fight on her own.
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Penny is ale to hold her own, even managing to make good use of her Maiden powers. However, the Ace-Ops are able to match against her and eventually Marrow is able to use his Stay power on her. RWBN try to break through the door, bot nothing is working. Nora, staring at the electric door, decides to do what she dos best be strong and hit stuff. Using her hammer and Semblance, Nora absorbs the electricity until she’s powered enough to blow the door off it’s hinges. However, even for Nora, this was far too much as her body gets some ugly scarring. She collapses, her Aura breaking.
Seeing the fight, Watts suggests that the Ace-Ops get one of Penny’s swords. Ironwood orders this, and they bandage to rip one off of Penny before retreating, though Marow noticeably is hesitant. WBNP reach a hangar where May has gotten an airship. They escape, but Nora is still passed out and seriously injured. After this, Penny agrees that she needs to remain in Amity and it’s time for her to go. She and Ruby hug one more time, promising to see each other again before Penny flies off for Amity. Meanwhile, the Ace-Ops turn over the sword to Ironwood. Why did they need this? The same reason that Ironwood recruited Watts: to hack into Penny and turn her back onto their side.
Review
Ah, action, emotions, and spilt coffee. All the things I love in a RWBY episode~
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Let’s talk about Ruby’s Semblance first since I’ve seen some debate about it. IDK how scientifically accurate Penny’s explanation is... but Ruby is a girl who can trail rose petals behind her, so I’m not all that concerned about accuracy here. But this just more or less confirmed what I’ve been thinking for a long time now. I, as well as others, have pointed out that her Semblance doesn’t really appear to act line a speed-based one. Heck as I said, Harriet pointed it out just last volume. Now we know that Ruby’s power is essentially a slow-formed teleportation. Considering I always assumed that Summer’s Semblance had a similar breaking her body down function, this makes a lot of sense to me.
I’ve seen some complain about how Ruby didn’t know this... but really? That’s perfectly in-character for her. She’s a clever girl, but she’s always been one to act more than give deep contemplation. She knows the basic function of her Semblance, to move fast compared to normal, and that works for her. Heck remember last volume when she used her split apart trick. Oscar asked how long she could do that, and she answered that she had never really thought of it. Sure Ruby HAS carried people with her Semblance before (Penny in V2, Nora in V4, Weiss in V6), but that was with a single person. She had never tried it with a group before. It fits into how Semblances evolve over time and I’m really happy to see Ruby grow more. I get the feeling that she needs all the happy development she can get before things really go off the deep end.
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Speaking of though, the chibi art accompanying Penny’s explanation? Both cute and hilarious. It reminded me of Ruby’s imagine spots back in Volume One. This chapter had quite a few funny moments. Weiss pulling Nora’s ear for last episode, Nora pushing all the elevator buttons. Blake clearly hating all forms of unconventional transportation, and while I feel it clashed with the tone a bit the coffee guy tripping up was great. The crude poster of a Shark Grimm (when do we get that?) especially got a giggle out of me. Like I said last review, it’s nice to have these bits of levity. I love it when Ruby gets feelsy and serious, but I don’t want it to divert form fun and light-heartedness all the time. They’ve gotten a lot better at keeping a balance and transitioning us from one mood to the other. I feel last chapter did it a bit better, but this was still well done.
Now lets talk about Penny. It was nice to see her act like her usual perky self a bit with her Semblance explanation and the direction to the terminal. But still, it’s clear that things are still haunting her. She’s still reminded of her robot identity with May’s comment, which no IDT May was trying to be offensive or anything, after all Robyn uses nicknames like that all the time and she DID use Penny’s name after the correction. But even past that, we have Pietro manually taking control of Penny. Now it WAS done with permission and there’s a good reason why, but my reaction to it was the same as Ruby’s. You ca tell that Penny wasn’t looking forward to it since it one more emphasizes that she is a robot. We all know she’s more, but Penny is still trying to figure out her new place.
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This is especially evident in her reaction to remaining on Amity. Of course she doesn’t want to do that. She still considers herself the Protector of Mantle. She is now the Winter Maiden. She wants to help people. She wants to be out there doing good alongside her friends. But unfortunately with the target on her back from both sides, it’ simply too dangerous. She not only puts herself at risk, but those around her. We already know that ironwood will now go to any extreme to get his way, including work with an evil scientist and have a firing squad ready to fire. Salem... do I need to explain any further? The safest thin is for Penny to remain in Amity, but it still clearly pains her even after accepting it as necessary. And with Watts now having a piece necessary to hack her AND the episode showing us how it can be done... yeah, pray for Penny folks.
She DID however get to kick ass with her Maiden powers. While we had some Grimm fights last chapter, this was the first major fight of the volume, and it was awesome. Penny, even after just getting her power, uses it to great effect. Not as much as Raven or even Cinder, but is clearly more than capable of controlling it. But the Ace-Ops do manage to match her. They aren’t holding back now, they are going in for the kill and all of them (save Marrow, I’ll talk about him in the CH4 review) seem to be on the same wavelength. I think this helped the complaints about the Ace-Ops losing to RWBY (ones I don’t agree with, but still) and shows how even with Clover dead, they are still a capable force. Harriet and Elm’s words were still overly cruel, but I can’t deny that they can fight. Oh and we also FINALLY got to see Vine’s weapon, so there’s that. It was a fun action sequence~
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But now we get to the star of this episode for me: Nora. Now... I have made it no secret that Nora is my least favorite character of the main group. Why? There’s two main reasons: her lack of development compared to the others and her character largely revolving around Ren. I won’t lie, some of the over-exposure and her portrayal in Chibi also contributed, but those don’t really affect her character in-show. While I feel that she has slowly improved, last volume especially being a step up, I still felt like she was the least developed. So going into Volume 8, I was very curious about hat they would do with her now that she and Ren are divided and she is on her own.
I have to say... I am very happy with her in this episode. It addressed my complaint about her and Ren being co-dependent as far as their portrayals in-show went. They outright existed more or less to fill out Team JNPR, and they spent Volumes 1-3 as comic relief to focus on Jaune and Pyrrha. I miss Pyrrha to this day, but her death DID allow the two to finally grow as characters. I don’t like it when the focus of a character is mainly on their relationship with another, hence why shipping gets on my nerves a lot. It was a HUGE issue I had with Renora until they became fleshed out. Here we have Nora expressing how upset she is about Ren, how every time it looks like they’ve gotten closer something comes in to ruin it (Volume 4 for example), and now that she’s without him for the first time in who knows how long... she doesn’t really know who she is. This has been something that I’ve wanted the show to go into since at least Volume 4, and it is FINALLY happening.
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I love how the ones who talk to her are Blake and Weiss. Blake struggled with separating herself from a previous attachment, and knows how hard it is to remember that that’s only one part of yourself. Weiss has struggled with carving her own identity which while not in the romantic context, is still relevant as her family name is only a part of her, not the whole thing. It’s a dynamic I never knew I needed, but I am SO glad we have it now! I think as hard as it is, Nora needed to part from Ren for now. She needs to remember to care about herself and know that she is more than just the girl who likes Ren and hits stuff with a hammer. She’s funny, she’s caring, she’s loyal, she’s fun to be around, she can get carried away with things yet it’s always entertaining when she does. She is Nora Valkyrie before everything else. And in the end, she more or less sacrificed herself to break the door and save Penny. IDK if she knew that the electricity would be too much, but she still made the choice by herself. Now we just need to hope that she recovers... and that when Ren finds out, he doesn’t snap...
In the intro, I talked about how V8 seems to be a second attempt at the split teams plot in Volume 4. While I find V4 underrated and a nice character development/world-building volume, the handling of the split plots... did certainly cause pacing issues. The biggest issue was cramming essentially six storylines into the volume, four of which were vital, and not being able to give them all proper attention. Essentially, it worked fine when binged, but going week by week it could get tiresome very quickly. This time, we have the entire team split into two groups with the side plots being the villains and Ironwood’s forces. This only leaves two major plotlines that need the main focus and allows for unique character dynamics, like Nora with Weiss and Blake. 
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So far, the pacing with these two groups has been done very well. While we don’t see JYRO in this episode, last chapter did enough that we already know what to expect when we get back to them. Nothing feels out of focus or like one plot is getting more attention than the other. It feels balanced. It feels like both plots matter and I want to see what happens. The writers have clearly learned and improved over the years, with this being a clear example. It’s been really fun (and scary) so far and I’m really excited to see more of these different group dynamics (and since I’ve already seen Chapter 4, they are delivering!), though hopefully we will get the team reformed before long. But for now, I’m loving this~
Chapter Stats
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Favorite Character: Nora Valkyrie Favorite Scene: Nora, Weiss, and Blake talk Least Favorite Scene: Coffee Guy Favorite Voice Actor: Samantha Ireland (Nora) Favorite Animation: Penny going Winter Maiden against the Ace-Ops Rating: 9.9/10
Final Thoughts
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Three chapters in, and already this volume is looking to be one of the best. Some nice humor, great character dynamics and focus, an epic action sequence, and a lot of heart and emotion put in especially with Penny and Nora. This was a fantastic episode that gave me everything that I was hoping for! If the quality stays at this pace, the this is absolutely going to become a great one! And considering what happens next chapter, we haven’t strayed from that yet. But that review is for another day, for now I’ll say that this chapter was great~
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twostarsinonesphere · 5 years ago
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Hi! Sorry if you've done this before (I glanced through your archive, but I might have missed something), but I would love to hear your top book/movie/music/whatever recs for people that want to learn more Irish history, if you have a sec. Thanks! Your blog is awesome!
hey! so i have only one recommendation post on this topic, it's for irish literature and it can be found here.
for history resources:
if you want a brief overview of the shitshow that was the rising and the controversies and personalities therein, rebels by peter de rosa is an invaluable resource. it was the first irish history related book i've read and to this day it has made me laugh and cry and it's just such a good book ok (also it has the collins-boland whiskey/telephone cord/date/grocery store shenanigans in it, which many books on the rising do not have and it adds levity to an otherwise hella depressing story. also it doesn't attempt to gloss over pearse's insanity, or casement's... gayness.)
two good books for if you want early to mid irish history are how the irish saved civilization by thomas cahill, an incredible book about the age of saints and monks and also brehon laws, literacy, and how early irish culture changed the way "the west" looked at the concept of the self, and all that jazz - and 1014: brian ború and the battle for ireland by morgan lewellyn, a very readable book that outlines how viking culture influenced modern ireland, and how the kingship structure was set up in the pre-colonial days of the irish kingdoms. also briefly touches on the possibly mythical fifth kingship of meath. mostly deals with the battle of clontarf.
a book on granuaile, queen of connacht and more loosely the o'malley clan and how england slowly took over ireland is ireland's pirate queen by anne chambers. this book is insane and sparks joy. i love granuaile. anne chambers' other book, the shadow lord, is about granuaile's son tibbot ne long, the last "o'malley" (the title, not the name) and the nine years' war (the first anglo-irish war). this book is equally insane and sparks the same amount of joy.
a book on the troubles is say nothing by patrick radden keefe. this book evoked so many emotions. oh my god. it's honestly a must read. and it must be read while listening to the cranberries.
and finally, michael collins and eamon de valera by tim pat coogan. i hesitate to recommend these because they're both long and boring as hell but the information in them is vital to understanding the irish civil war. they're both extremely detailed, sometimes not in a good way, but there's so much information that can be used to paint a picture of these two men like nothing else i've read. it's like an encyclopedia of the collins-de valera conflict. and y'know people still can't agree on the same exact issue that they fought over so it's important to know exactly what's going on there.
so those are some beginning history books. i wish i had something on the famine to recommend but i haven't read any nonfiction on that so i'm sorry
on to movies and tv:
michael collins (1994): this goes from the easter rising in 1916 to collins' death in 1922.
the wind that shakes the barley (2006): from the year of terror in 1920 to the middle of the civil war in 1922.
black '47 (2017): the great famine in the year 1847.
rebellion season one (2016): the end of the gaelic revival and the beginning of wwi in 1914 to the end of the easter rising.
rebellion season two (2019): the year of terror in 1920 to the signing of the anglo irish treaty in 1921.
derry girls (2018-present): the nineties in derry, northern ireland. deals vaguely with the troubles but mostly with teenage shenanigans.
i, dolours (2018): a movie companion to say nothing, the book i mentioned earlier. an adaptation of dolours price's boston college tapes.
musical artists:
traditonal or folk: the high kings, the irish descendants, the dubliners, the wolfe tones, téada, p.j. hayes, the irish rovers, john mccormick, sinéad o'connor, the chieftains, university of dublin choral scholars
original: the cranberries, hozier, kodaline, i don't actually know any others and that's kind of a crime
i hope this helped you in any way, and i am so glad you enjoy my blog! have fun, and i'm sorry there's so much material on here, i have the same too much gene that jenna marbles has but instead of arts and crafts it's recommending history shit. thank you so much for the ask!
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dcnativegal · 5 years ago
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Day 55 of Pandemic, & I’m sick
Monday, May 4, 2020. Day 55 of the global pandemic (declared by World Health Organization on March 11th.) We as a planet hit 3,500,000 cases today, and 250,000 deaths. There are many more than that, but the planet doesn’t have enough tests.  But then, there was this announcement:
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So obviously we’re in good hands. [Sarcasm alert.]
 The entire planet has slowed down, such that seismologists can detect the quieting of the earth: less shuddering of industry, cars, construction. Check out the drop in electricity usage:
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Here’s a bit of perspective from Instagram:
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The Lesbians of Paisley have been fertile ground for viruses. Valerie is nearly recovered from the viral pneumonia she was diagnosed with on March 26 at the emergency room at Lake District Hospital. She’d begun to feel feverish and achy, with violent coughing on March 15th, 2 days after what turned into my last day in my office at the hospital’s primary care clinic, and a day and a half after we’d dined with our friends Toni, Al, Bonnie and Bruce in person, sans masks. We began 100% isolation from the outside world the minute she felt sick. She recounted the ER adventure to a friend thusly: We drove in and they have organized a system that resembles getting on a [military] base after 9-11. We sat in the pickup at the checkpoint until a somebody in protective attire had taken my temp and saturation levels and asked a bunch of questions. Then they slapped a red sticker on the dash, told us to park in the ER lot and "don't get out of the pickup." Five hours later I had donated blood and been CAT scanned. I had two pneumonia shots that were current and two flu shots, also current. They checked the blood against 14 different virus strains and came up blank. The chest showed white lungs and my saturation levels were iffy. So they used one of the tests they had been sent, gave me antibiotics (just in case) and sent me home. Took me three days to sleep off all that fun.”
Me and Griffey the poodle waited in the pickup for her. At every sound, he got up from the passenger’s seat and looked at the ER entrance where she’d disappeared. No Valerie? Back to sleep. I walked him 3 times.      Hope, her RN daughter, told us that her flow through the ER was great practice in maintaining distance and perfect hygienic process through the CT scan, taking blood, even pushing her food on a tray to her. Lake Health District Hospital is prepared, and still, technically speaking, zero cases in the county.
I was so anxious about her health, her ability to breathe, that I gave up all thought of working from home. I listened to her breathing and coughing, brought her tea, and finally, asked her to write out her last will and testament. She did, and put it away. I figured, her kids are wonderful and won’t fight about stuff but, better for her to express her wishes, even if the paper wouldn’t be legally binding.
Apparently, I get the FrankenDodge (the pickup which has hit one too many deer and who’s grill is sewn together by wire). I’ll take it but I’d much rather have her.
We waited 10 days for the nasal swab results. While we waited, she got better. Never had that cytokine storm, nor that respiratory crash. Storms and crashes; pretty apt words for the medical horror of end stage COVID-19. Once her test came back negative, despite the warning of her PCP who says that nasal swabs miss between 30 and 47% of positive cases, I was able to go to town on the 10th of April, get some software downloaded onto the computer so I could work from home, and hit Safeway while wearing a mask. I also dropped off one of Valerie’s homemade masks to a friend, along with some toilet paper illustrated with Trump’s kissy face. The moment of levity was greatly appreciated.
I started feeling lousy six days after my jaunt to Lakeview (April 16th). Cough and release of gook high up in my chest. Headache. No fever. Who knows if I have COVID-19. We listen to a British gentleman, Dr. Campbell, daily, as he reviews what’s going on globally, and he interviewed a woman who had exactly my illness course, before she moved on to fever and gastrointestinal symptoms. She never got tested. Too much hassle. Which is so ridiculous, criminal really, and in the USA, a direct result of American hubris and incompetence. Fine. Anyone with any symptoms of any illness is isolated until we have a vaccine and treatment, is my prediction. I’m still feeling shitty, though better. Started taking antibiotics just in case and in the hopes of recovering SOMEDAY.
 My son Jonah and his girlfriend June escaped just in time the terrible plight of New York’s COVID19 deluge of infections and hospitalizations. They’ve been in Baltimore at June’s mother’s beautiful home. He spent his 26th birthday in the basement because they were still in quarantine. See adorable picture, below. Now they’re allowed upstairs, enjoying the quiet. Apparently, writing and directing music videos is not an essential service during a pandemic, but he’s writing pitches and living off the most recent lucrative gig with Kesha, thank goodness.
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One of the most moving things that is happening in the USA during this time is the 7pm clapping ritual for medical workers and first responders in New York City, in all the boroughs:
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There’s a firefighter in DC who’s going to hospitals and nursing homes to play the bagpipe.
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That’s where my daughter Clara lives, in DC, but right now she’s staying with a friend in Laurel, MD, since her group house dynamics are stressful and had a symptomatic guest at last report. She’s working from home to make sure the Latinx school children are getting the tutoring they need now more than ever. We worry about her husband Jose and his country, Guatemala, since there are COVID-19 cases down there, and refugees seeking asylum are being dumped there, with and without the virus. Over 700 cases in Guatemala as of today. We hope he will get to the USA this year. However, Trump referred to it as a shithole country, which doesn’t bode well.
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My sister and her husband are well, thankfully. They work fulltime from home in the company of Pepper the cat and Darcy the chocolate lab. Yuuki, 25, stays there, too, mostly in their room; they are out of work and applying for unemployment. Kohji, age 28, works from home in DC and makes more money as a web designer than I ever will after 34 years as a social worker, but who’s counting. (I remember well the admonition of a field instructor back in 1987: don’t go into social work for Power, Pay or Prestige.) His girlfriend is probably out of work; she works for a nonprofit that plants trees in DC. Probably not essential work right this very minute. Makoto, 23, is out of quarantine and looking for something to do; he’ll be a senior at the University of Delaware this fall. As far as I hear on Facebook and email, the rest of the folks with whom I share DNA are well. So that’s good. I worry about my Aunt Mary Lee who is 87. But she says not to:  she’s fine and her ritzy retirement community in McLean, VA is on “lockdown.”
Psychologically, in the experience of quarantine and ‘social distancing’, there’s me, and then there are my clients.
My moods go up and down, but a little further down than usual. The terror that Valerie might die of COVID-19 has passed, but I figure I will always need therapy.  I have “Facebook messenger” video chats with my therapist, Darcy of Bend, every other week now, which helps. Having ‘Generalized Anxiety Disorder’ and a tendency toward major depression, I find therapy to be a corrective. A bimonthly tune up. Without it, I naturally veer toward negativity and neurosis, and a hypervigilance that served me well when I was a child, but is exhausting, overwrought and over-thought as an adult.
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Psychologically, Valerie is always fine. Seriously. She was once told as a young woman by a therapist who’d tested her with the MMPI (the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory) that she was outrageously and puzzlingly normal. Now that she’s feeling mostly well again from the pneumonia, she’s been tearing up the joint, fixing the sump pump that apparently keeps this little house from drifting down main street on the wetlands it’s built on. Digging out the leaves from our irrigation ditch, chopping and clearing the wood from our front yard.
The BEFORE picture:
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The AFTER Picture.
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 And this happened one morning in March. Just a cattle drive past our front door.
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Valerie’s planning a garden at her daughter’s place, which has a deer-proof fence and lots of sun up on the hill above us. A delivery of horse manure is scheduled, and the garden bed has been rototilled. Val’s granddaughter Jessica and her husband Alan are living up there now, working from home for their Portland-based gigs. They’re almost finished the 14-day quarantine since they moved down here. The new normal: anytime anyone leaves one locale for another, they disappear into strictest quarantine, not to leave their abode. Groceries are delivered to the doorstep. A recent day turned out to be Jess’ 25th birthday: I’d bought a canvas bag with a picture of a pug on it, like her dog Archie, and Valerie found something gluten free flour mix with fresh jam to give her. Birthday gatherings are suspect at the moment.
Here’s a lovely idea for quarantined birthday celebrations:
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What a kind and generous offer.
Even in isolation, Val and I do socialize, on zoom. The one pictured below is church.
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We ‘visit’ with our fellow parishioners from St. Luke’s on Sunday evenings. Then we say Compline together, from the Book of Common Prayer. My favorite prayer of all time is this one from that service.
Yes, shield the joyous. Because joy is fleeting.
Our writers’ group, Easy Writers, ‘meets’ on zoom every Monday now. I wrote this bit about my yarn for the prompt, ‘write something in your home that means a lot to you.’
I am doing a great deal of crochet and a little knitting.
Yarn is my comfort and my joy. It is the raw material I create blankets and scarves and hats with. My tools are hooks and needles made from wood and plastic and metal. My fingers are also my tools.
Some of the yarn is like cotton candy: spun mohair from a goat is said to have a ‘halo’ or ‘aura’ because of the gentle cloud of color you can see an inch or two away from the spun thread. Some yarn is like twine: you can see every string of ply. My favorite is merino wool and single ply. A unity of color that will not split. All for one and one for all, the fuzzy stuff is twisted and bound into a single string of strength…
My clients are stressed out. The pandemic adds a layer to the stress they were already experiencing. I listen and knit, from within the cocoon of the yarn room which my folks can see behind me.  One of my clients wanders about with her phone in her hand while I get slightly dizzy. I like this kind of counseling since I get a glimpse of my clients’ homes. Reminds me a little bit of being a geriatric care manager. You can tell a lot about a person from their home. From my home you can tell that I have a lot of yarn, and I work multiple projects at a time because there are piles of them alongside my recliner.  
One of the sad weights of being present for my clients is their level of estrangement for most if not all social connections, especially people with whom they share DNA. And every single one has what is called in the mental health world “complex PTSD” from multiple traumatic experiences.  I sit with them, on the phone or via video. I hope to model for them what Carl Rogers called ‘unconditional positive regard.’ I breathe deeply to release my own distress at their sadness. We explore one tiny step toward reducing their isolation, the sense of trust. All during a pandemic where other people could be carrying a potentially deadly virus.
It’s no wonder I’m pawing mohair out of screen for my own comfort.
Sometimes I email clients links or articles on how to keep their spirits up, or about good things that are happening instead of the dire predictions they’re listening to or watching. There is much to share that is hopeful.  I sent one to a client on creative ways to care for everyone and she shot back:
“I believe this is Liberal rhetoric. 
Esp the paragraph below:
 This current emergency provides the possibility for a new emergence—the birthing of a truly civil civilization dedicated to the well-being of all people and the living Earth. “
Oh well. We can’t have a truly civil civilization dedicated to the well-being of all people, now can we?
Sigh.
 Brilliant writing is being penned right now, since the entire planet’s human inhabitants are barely one degree of separation away from this virus, which is apparently ‘barely alive’ and therefore hard to kill, as it spreads onward to make millions miserable and hundreds of thousands die.
I’m saving articles from The Atlantic, The NY Times, and the Washington Post, and following a historian named Heather Cox Richardson who writes a daily blog called Letters from an American. In a recent post she writes:
“The big news … has been the ‘protests’ of state governors’ stay-at-home orders and mandatory business closings to try to contain the novel coronavirus …These protests are a classic example of trying to control politics by controlling the national narrative. The protests are backed by the same conservative groups that are working for Trump’s reelection. …These are not spontaneous, grassroots protests. They are political operations designed to divert attention from the Trump administration’s poor response to the pandemic. Even more, though, they are designed to keep the American public divided so that we do not protest the extraordinary economic inequality the pandemic has highlighted.
These protests have diverted the national conversation by turning a national crisis into partisan division along the lines the Republican Party has developed since the 1980s... The change of subject protects not just Trump but also the ideology at the heart of his Republican Party. Since 1981, Republicans have argued that the economy depends on wealthy businessmen who know best how to arrange the economy—the makers-- and that it is vital to protect their interests. Under their policies, wealth in America has moved upward. The pandemic has highlighted how these policies have removed economic security for ordinary people. They cannot pay their bills, and they might well turn against an ideology that uses our tax dollars to bail out corporations while they must risk their lives to pay their rent.”  [Emphasis mine]
I am so glad someone smarter than me can reveal the interconnections of what’s going on politically.
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There is food for thought on Facebook and Instagram: in the guise of a rewrite of Mary Oliver’s Wild Geese, this poem.
Mary Oliver for Corona Times (after Wild Geese)
by Adrie Kusserow
You do not have to become totally zen, You do not have to use this isolation to make your marriage better, your body slimmer, your children more creative. You do not have to “maximize its benefits” By using this time to work even more, write the bestselling Corona Diaries, Or preach the gospel of ZOOM. You only have to let the soft animal of your body unlearn everything capitalism has taught you, (That you are nothing if not productive, That consumption equals happiness, That the most important unit is the single self. That you are at your best when you resemble an efficient machine). Tell me about your fictions, the ones you’ve been sold, the ones you sheepishly sell others, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world as we know it is crumbling. Meanwhile the virus is moving over the hills, suburbs, cities, farms and trailer parks. Meanwhile The News barks at you, harsh and addicting, Until the push of the remote leaves a dead quiet behind, a loneliness that hums as the heart anchors. Meanwhile a new paradigm is composing itself in our minds, Could birth at any moment if we clear some space From the same tired hegemonies. Remember, you are allowed to be still as the white birch, Stunned by what you see, Uselessly shedding your coils of paper skins Because it gives you something to do. Meanwhile, on top of everything else you are facing, Do not let capitalism coopt this moment, laying its whistles and train tracks across your weary heart. Even if your life looks nothing like the Sabbath, Your stress boa-constricting your chest. Know that your antsy kids, your terror, your shifting moods, are no less sacred than a yoga class. Whoever you are, no matter how broken, the world still has a place for you, calls to you over and over announcing your place as legit, as forgiven, even if you fail and fail and fail again. remind yourself over and over, all the swells and storms that run through your long tired body all have their place here, now in this world. It is your birthright you be held deeply, warmly, in the family of things, not one cell left in the cold.
-Adrie Kusserow
 Not one cell left out in the cold. Yes.
There is so much to be grateful for. I have a place to live, and even while paying off my bankruptcy debt, I have plenty. Enough that I can make small donations here and there. Here’s one cause I found: supporting foster children who were in college and now have no place to go. (Terrible visuals for the logo: it’s “Together We Rise.”)
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Soon, the nights of below freezing temperatures will pass, and both Lesbians of Paisley will be healthy at the same time.  Perhaps I’ll get my Tricycle-for-Grownups serviced and toodle around for exercise. Perhaps the Stitch & Bitch knitting/crochet gatherings will resume, maybe in a park for physical distance and social connection.
And maybe I’ve already had Covid-19, and so has Valerie. Looks like 50-70% of all the people on the planet, not quite 8 billion humans so maybe 4 to 6 billion people, need to catch this thing in order to give our species herd immunity. Or WILL catch it because we have no way to stop it, only to slow the infections so that health care is not overwhelmed. We live and Love in the Time of Coronavirus, to paraphrase Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I maybe a libtard, a snowflake, a lily-livered liberal, who’s heart bleeds. But I agree with this sentiment, found on Facebook, our American ‘commons’:
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Love absurdly and abundantly, my people. And wash your hands. 
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pixelatedlenses · 5 years ago
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Day 354
This weekend was rough. Largely because it’s really, really hot.
In fact, it’s incredibly hot and that’s making my stomach act up. 
Also, the world isn’t quite so kind and it’s getting into my head. People are hurting and dying and being gunned down in a country that has never really been about freedom. It… it becomes a weight at times, and while yes, I’m abroad, the recent events coupled with the KyoAni Fire have just been a bit much. It becomes scary. It becomes an intense weight. It becomes a reason to tuck away and want to never go out into the world unless absolutely necessary.
But I refuse to stop my life: I have to keep going. I can’t just hide in my home and decide to never interface with the world: I think that’s what terror –and those who perpetuate terror- would like for folks to do. They want to see the world burn: I want to see life come from the ashes and reclaim. 
(I don’t genuinely want to hide: I just can’t help but sometimes feel like it.)
I’m afraid, yes, but I’m not going to stop. There’s still too much good in the world and too many attempts to do right for me to just throw in the towel.
So here’s how I’m reclaiming my week. Well, my day.
Edited my Carrd Website
In my attempt to shift my life-blogging persona into an aspect of my professional identity, I created a card. Well, now it needs a bit of an update. So I’ve gone in an updated it to look a bit crisper and more organized. It even has tabs that you can click on so I can better make it a viewable C/V that you can preview versus a really simple site.
I’ll be making it into a pinned tweet this week!
Decided that learning lettering may be beneficial to my current long-term goals
So over the past few months, I’ve been considering entering translation and localization, largely because my experience with Japanese and English has really encouraged me to do something I love with those skills. But this weekend, I considered lettering as part of that overall goal, and found that that felt right.
The former is a solid goal: while I’ll still work towards having a solid day job for things like health care and steady funds, I have plans to also begin my work with freelancing in translation and localization.
I’m going to focus on proficiency in CSP, or Clip Studio Paint. I have access to the program on my iPad, which would be a tool I’d be using should I also choose to do lettering. I’d also like to get some basic understanding of Photoshop under my belt again: I had a decent level of proficiency in high school and college, but it’s also been... 10 years since high school and six since undergrad. A refresher might be good.
(Lookin’ at you Udemy: run a special so I can buy some courses!)
At most, it’s part of my potential plans for next year. At minimum, it’s a new skill that I can use for my own private purposes. Overall, it’ll give me an appreciation of all the hard work that goes into lettering manga, both in Japanese and English. And honestly, I think a deeper appreciation for what a lot of my friends do can be only beneficial.
(Now to figure out the other aspects of my goals... I’ll get there in due time!)
Chose two manga to practice translation (and potentially lettering) with
So I received an incredibly kind offer last night: the chance to have some of my translation practice reviewed. Of course, I said yes: this is essential to my growth, and a good chance to practice accepting help and kindness.
So naturally, that means making a choice.
And I did, this morning, very spur of the moment: a manga about gothic Lolita clothing and growing up (着たい服がある / Working Title: Those Clothes I Want to Wear) and a manga about koto and the feeling of falling in love with music (この音とまれ! Working Title/Official Title: Sounds of Life!).
They’re both from two different genres with two very different stories. I think they’ll help me a lot with my ongoing private practice and study.
My goal is do a first read through by next Wednesday. Then I can do a second of the first chapter, and take notes. After that… we’ll start translating and localizing the text. I’ll also be building my first Word Bank (a file with keywords and phrases to help keep things in order) alongside my work.
I already have a bit of an idea of how I want things to shake out, but it’ll take a deeper dive into reading both volumes –and watching the manga for KonoOto- for me to decide the direction I’d go if given these are work.
Thankfully, what this’ll do is give me a base for my portfolio: I really want to have six to eight samples across multiple genres for next year when I start shopping myself around. Also, this is a bit of prep for the Manga Translation Battle, which I will enter without the intent of winning. (Winning would be great: having eyes on my work is even better.)
Once more, it’s win-win, which is exactly what I like!
Did Some Listening Practice w/ New Game!
It’s what’s on the tin: I did some listening practice with the anime New Game! It’s cute, and surprisingly, really easy for me to understand. Bit by bit, I’m getting better at catching words and phrases without subtitles. I’m gonna watch a few more episodes over very late dinner, and then pick up studying at my desk tomorrow!
Read for Pleasure
Something I’ve struggled with over the past few months is taking time for myself to enjoy reading. I think when I read lately, it’s usually in the context of study or knowledge gaining, or something of the like: it’s never expressly for the purpose of pleasure.
So… I picked up my brand new copy of Dianna Wynne Jones’ Fire and Hemlock and J-Novel Club’s physical release of Hiratori Ko’s JK Haru is a Sex Worker in Another World and let myself have some levity this evening, even if I didn’t read for too terribly long.
A habit is made in small steps, not great leaps.
But I have to say that reading on the train, on my sofa bed after dinner…
…simple perfection.
All together a really successful day! I'm so proud of myself for doing a good amount of things. I'll do even more tomorrow! For now... late dinner and ice cream! Yay!
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theinquisitivej · 5 years ago
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SteamHeart Episode 18 Reactions
Chapter Eighteen: Where Will You Be?
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The full episode can be listened to here.
An episode of quiet introspection and softly spoken declarations of resolve.
After Abigail made her speech in the theatre to the people of Indianapolis, she spends part of her evening on top of SteamHeart, finding Annie had the same idea. The chapter more or less focuses entirely on this scene, taking the opportunity to delve into some of Annie’s thoughts on recent matters, and Abigail’s questions about the future. The action of Abigail sitting down so that they “tentatively rested our backs against each other” sets the tone. It makes this an intimate moment where the two may not necessarily see each other (suggesting that they don’t have as much of an understanding of one another as they will by the end of this conversation), but they nevertheless share enough trust that they can each have their back to the other person and let their guard down, despite their tentativeness indicating that this doesn’t come easily.
         Annie initiates the conversation, commending Abigail on how she handled herself in front of the crowd. She notes the impression of humbleness Abigail gave off, as this is unusual for her. Abigail chalks it up to the stage enabling the performer in her, but Annie follows up on this remark by asking if that means she wasn’t really feeling humble as she said those things. This is the first of multiple points in the conversation where the two characters ask a searching question of the other, hoping to incite honest responses as the interviewee looks deep within herself. On this particular matter, however, Abigail, changes the subject, enquiring whether they’ll be departing Indianapolis tomorrow. Annie answers yes, as she believes the team is ready. Abigail takes her turn at a probing question as she asks if Annie feels she is ready. Like Abigail, Annie hesitates, not giving a definitive answer. It seems neither character has all the answers about how they feel.
         Annie apologises for not being a better leader, which, you know, it’s been a little while, so it might be clearer to me where this is coming from on the re-listen, but I felt Annie was being a little hard on herself with this remark, though I do understand why she would hold herself up to high standards. Abigail however responds half-jokingly that she was ready to take the sheriff badge off of Annie herself. Annie starts to share, telling Abigail that the death of the Arlingtons brought into focus how responsible she is for all this. Suddenly the feeling of there always being someone back at high command is pulled out from under her, and it seems like, in practice, her word is where all the important decisions get made. That’s definitely a lot to take in for a mission this important, even for an officer with as much experience as Annie.
         Abigail points out that the group and the country still has Truth and Katherine looking out for them. Even after conceding that, Annie worries about what will befall them if they lose Harry. She defies estimation – what Harry can create and invent is so valuable and beyond what other people can either imagine or bring into being, and that’s how Annie saw Thomas and Sarah. They both envisioned a future where humanity could survive into the new century and worked tirelessly to make that happen. Without people like that, people who weren’t just visionaries but actually had a decent idea how to make those visions into reality, Annie doesn’t have high hopes. Abigail argues that, while folks like Katherine aren’t “beyond genius”, that doesn’t stop them from being able to make a difference and contribute to that optimistic future coming to pass. She’s finally able to give Annie an answer and say that she meant what she said during the speech, or at the very least said “what I hope is true”. That’s enough to give Abigail fuel to keep trying to manage the hand she and the rest of the world have been dealt. And whether it’s from her own internal strength, talking this over with Abigail and hearing her words, or a combination of both, Annie resolves to focus not on whether the new higher ups can match up to the old, and instead look to her own status as a figure of authority and work on being a better leader.
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         Abigail echoes my sentiments from earlier and says that Annie shouldn’t hold herself to “beyond genius” levels of acumen. When Annie deflects this by asking what the consequences will be if she doesn’t shape up, Abigail tries a different approach by running the title question of the episode – where will you be? Specifically, when, or if they are successful in this mission and they survive into the next century, where does Annie want to be? Essentially, Abigail wants to know what Annie’s best case outcome of all of this is, and, more importantly, she wants Annie to know as well, because she suspects Annie hasn’t allowed herself to entertain the thought, and having it might just give her something to work towards.
         The first thing she knows is that she wants to live in a future where she’s done killing people, and she holsters the gun which she had out, indicating her vigilance against the threat she’s constantly thinking about. After that, she has fun thinking about the possibility of pursuing her sewing, something which Abigail definitively says she won’t take part in due to her distaste for dresses (which she demonstrated in the run-up to the ball earlier on in SteamHeart). As for Butler, Annie wants him to be safe and done with the army as well, but she shares her worries that it might be difficult for him to give that up after being so adept at it for so long, something which Annie understands and seems to share. It’s not that they enjoy killing, but the pride they take in seeing through the many dangerous missions they’ve taken part in is compelling. Even after knowing each other so well, we see that there are some situations Annie and Butler can’t say with certainty they’d know how the other would act.
         When Annie asks Abigail where she wants to be, she’s able to say with relative ease what she’d envision James wanting to do – take on Thomas’ position. However, she admits to having no idea what she wants, as this topic was a means to helping Annie be optimistic about the future. Abigail’s certainty in what the other half of her pairing would want to do and lack of certainty for herself is a contrast to Annie, who has more ease in saying where she’d like to be than she does with giving an answer on behalf of Butler, her partner. Duos and partners with singular bonds are a recurring theme in New Century, but moments like this demonstrate how different each pairing is. The suggestion of following Commander Wilson’s path and becoming an explorer holds some appeal, leading to Abigail listing off his numerous roles, including a spy, diplomat, geographer, and even translating the Karma Sutra, which, even in an alternate America that’s lived with the Wendigo for more than a decade, is causing quite the stir. But that kind of life is not quite what Abigail wants, and, speaking honestly, she admits that the future terrifies her. That’s something I’ve experienced at different points in my life – I vividly remember facing feelings of existential anxiety as a kid when I thought about the future as a concrete thing that I’d have to face one day. I’ve improved and more or less got over myself, but I’d be lying if I said those fears have entirely gone away.
         Going back to Abigail, she brings up her desire to find her parents, the one vision of the future she still holds onto, even after so much time having passed since Secret Rooms. This prompts a conversation about whether this is for the best, as Annie argues that she’s chasing the past, fighting against a decision her parents made to safeguard her future. Abigail counters by voicing her own displeasure at having her life be decided for her, a part of her character which the Definitive Edition of Secret Rooms brought into focus. This hurts Annie, as Abigail is inadvertently suggesting that she wishes she led a life where she wouldn’t have met her or the rest of Team Steam. She doesn’t mean to imply she feels that way, but it’s understandably still upsetting to hear. Abigail states she’s “a painfully honest son of a bitch”, pointing out how the openness of conversations like this can be a positive experience with the potential to sooth recent sadness and provide a rekindled sense of optimism for the future, but it can also lead to feelings coming out in the open which hurt to hear, even if the person feeling them doesn’t intend them to. That isn’t necessarily a terrible thing, and can be part of the process of being more honest with one another, but it is something to be conscious of in heart-to-heart conversations like this. In this instance, it leads to the slightly inflamed (but admittedly kind of amusing) exchange of Annie calling Abigail a “stubborn red headed mule” and Abby calling her a “stuck-up murderous pixie” (which, upon reflection, is a harsh jab against a person who’s just shared her regret at leading a lifestyle where she has to kill people). Even so, the two can agree to Abigail wanting to take control by getting to the Wind Doors and hopefully make a difference, and Annie doing her best to help her get there. They get up as the conversation draws to a close, and as they head down below, Annie asks if she can borrow Abigail’s “Indian sex manual”, to which Abigail responds “I left my copy back in Washington” with an audible smirk on her face. It’s a funny, but oddly sweet way to end the exchange, as it’s both a moment of down-to-earth levity after a deep conversation, and one last piece of honesty shared between the two where Annie expresses an interest in the book, and Abigail admits to owning a copy.
         Before we reach the credits, we hear Harry’s brief letter to Truth, which was sent from the Indianapolis Outpost, meaning she sent it before they would leave the next morning. Harry misses her sister and appreciates her kindness, but she doesn’t “need” to return home. Instead, she asserts that they are traveling on the road again today. This resuming of the journey has that much more weight behind it as a result of Harry deciding its time to move forward as SteamHeart’s mechanic and driver. And she does this “for mum and dad”. A short but powerful and emotional close to the episode.
         The performances of Laureta Sela and Sharon Shaw are spot on in this episode. The chapter hinges entirely on Abigail and Annie’s conversation, and each voice actress conveys the earnestness and emotional weight of what’s being said. It’s not a moment of the story where emotions are exploding out in a climactic fashion, but are instead being softly explored in a quiet setting where each character assesses where they are and where they’re heading, and their performances make that compelling from beginning to end.
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proofthatihaveaheart · 6 years ago
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ok so overall i enjoyed endgame, i had a fun time, and while i expected there to be a drag at some point (because 3 hours, what), there wasn’t? it was enjoyable all the way through and the pacing felt right. that said, i definitely had things i didn’t like so here’s my breakdown of good and bad: 
the good:
tony and nebula playing games and tony trying to share blueberries (i think that’s what they were?) with her and then nebula placing him on the seat so he could drift off with the stars AND THEN CAROL APPEARING IN GOLDEN LIGHT - all so very good
speaking of him, tony’s arc - IT WAS SO GOOD, LIKE WOW!!!! of all the character arcs, tony’s had the most consistent throughout the mcu and this movie built it to a final beautiful crescendo. tony returning gaunt and broken and so sad, building a life for himself with pepper and his daughter, it’s all the rest and domesticity he deserved; until steve, scott, and nat show up with a plan to save the universe and he’s not, he’s not going to do it - except that’s not tony stark. if there’s a way to help people, if there’s a chance to undo the snap, his mind can’t, won’t let it go, he’s just going to run the simulations and it works, tony stark invented time travel in a evening folks <3
and then his talk with pepper, she knows him and she knows he can’t rest unless he does this, and it was just a lovely moment
“i love you 3000″ CRYING!! TONY WAS THE BEST DAD YOU KNOW THAT
ok talking a little longer about tony because he was so good, he got some closure with his father, he had a fantastic team-up with steve (hey? the “do you i trust me” scene was good and honestly mcu should have developed their relationship over the course of these movies, they’re so important to each other in the comics, also they should have talked more about things but whatevs i’ll take it), they get the stones and he builds the gauntlet, fighting side by side with pepper in the final battle, he had five years of simple happiness, i love iron fam
AND THEN THE FINAL BATTLE!!!!! THANOS GOING TO SNAP BUT THE STONES ARE GONE, HIS GLOVE IS EMPTY BECAUSE TONY STARK MADE AN INFINITY GAUNTLET OUT OF HIS OWN ARMOR IT WAS EVERYTHING I COULD HAVE WANTED AND MORE HE MADE A GAUNTLET AND HE SNAPS AND SAVES THE DAY TONY STARK DIED TO SAVE THE UNIVERSE AND HE’S A HERO, NO ONE CAN EVER CALL HIM SELFISH AGAIN OR QUESTION WHETHER HE WOULD MAKE THE SACRIFICE PLAY OH MY
“I AM IRON MAN”
and then the quiet “pep”
pepper saying you can rest now
dying surrounded by his family
i cried twice. once as tony died, and then again when morgan asked for a cheeseburger, he’s my favorite of the original six and his arc was perfect and there were a lot of feelings going around
his funeral was gorgeous too, everyone lined up with the people he was closest to at the front. my url making an appearance, proof that tony stark has a heart, i cried, my heart hurt, i’m crushed that he died but all of it was such a beautiful send-off, true to his character and to his arc, it just worked beautifully 
ok and now to talk about non iron man stuff
actually i lied, one last thing, the steve/tony was on-point and so good and i’m still bitter that the mcu didn’t take the route of the comics with them, really with the idea of the avengers in general (tony builds a home for steve? the avengers become his family and purpose? where is that arc @ mcu), but this movie was chockful of good things between them
nat being the leader of the avengers in the five years, leading missions and acting as point. it was so good
also i did not like the outcome of the scene but the scene between nat and clint at vormir was very good, each of them wanting to die so the other didn’t have to, nat wanting to give clint a second chance like he gave her, it was good and their friendship (THE FOREHEAD TOUCH) is one of my favorite things
hulk adskdljaskldjlks. does it make sense? no, not really, but he was hilarious and while i wish he could have had an actual arc (why wasn’t he helping the avengers in those five years? why???), i did enjoy the humor he brought and the kindness he showed scott with the tacos
speaking of scott, i loved scott, i loved the levity he brought and he was there the perfect amount
thor completely letting himself go because ptsd is a messy affair, and then his face when he can still call his hammer to him, that knowledge that he IS still worthy + his interaction with his mom, i didn’t like everything with thor but i did like this
“we became sisters” i’m still devastated about gamora and this line from nebula did all kinds of things to my heart
time heist was lots of fun, it was a mess and i’m not happy about the paradoxes (more on that below), but also avengers 1 callbacks and expanded moments! tony and steve breaking into a 1970s bunker! the team working together! i loved!
everyone coming out of the portals, ready to fight in this last epic battle
“avengers... assemble” i got chills
every time the theme from avengers played, what a good theme
CAP USING THE HAMMER BECAUSE HE’S WORTHY HECK YEAH
carol decimating the ship and then coming down to help peter, “hey peter parker, you got something for me?” with that smile, so sweet <3 <3 <3 
also loved her short hair, such a look, i hope she keeps it for the next one
speaking of passing on the infinity gauntlet, i enjoyed that it got passed around to the new leads of the mcu, it was good
steve passing the shield on to sam!!! i have issues with some of his ending but i was overjoyed to see him give the shield to sam, he deserves it and i salute our new winged captain
the bad:
the big problem with the mcu has always been that they didn’t build the avengers up as a family so every time they referenced that in this movie, i just shook my head. they should have been a family, but you screwed that up, saying it now doesn’t make it true. can you imagine how much better the mcu would have been if it was about family? 
time travel paradoxes - how did killing thanos not screw things up? what about loki escaping? or steve fighting himself when that was one of the cardinal rules of time travel? it was a mess, it’s like they didn’t even try (they didn’t, i still had fun but some of the choices made me raise my eyebrows)
nat dying, the more i think about it, the more i hate it. it would have been more satisfying for clint to die (apologies to his family), a moment of redemption for all the lives he’s taken the past 5 years. but instead we get the only female original avenger dying and not even getting a funeral, just the other avengers standing around and being sad and wow has there ever been a moment where it was more painfully clear how few female characters in the mcu get to have relationships with one another???
(but that’s a vent session for another day)  
anyway i’m glad her death was on her terms, her sacrifice to save the world rather than being killed by a bullet, at least we get to see her being a big hero, she doesn’t WANT to do this but for the universe she will, but also it sucked and she should have lived
carol should have been there more, as an actual character, rather than a convenient device to zip into the movie when something needed doing. she’s going to be one of the leads of the mcu going forward and it would have been nice to see her develop a relationship with the old team before the reins were passed on (and i know we never would have gotten the level of connection she has with tony and steve in the comics but i can dream, give me the triumvirate). i wasn’t expecting much but SOMETHING WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE, a single “space-face” or a small amount of banter, just something, something to show that she’s bonded with the team over the past five years instead of keeping her as this distant lone figure. and i know they made this movie before the script was done for captain marvel so there’s nothing about her missing people who were dusted (a la scott) except for the sad look at fury’s photo but i would have appreciated a small moment between her and fury at the end
(and the above point is not to say that i think she should have been a central focus, i’m glad the original six avengers got the majority of the focus, it’s their send-off and while the endings weren’t all good it was what they deserved, but scott and rocket and nebula got to help on time travel shenanigans, i wanted carol there too)
i still hate peter’s mechanized suit (HE DOESN’T NEED IT! HE’S SPIDER-MAN! HE’S STRONG! ALSO MECHANIZED SUITS TEND TO MEAN VERY BAD THINGS IN THE SPIDEY COMICS) and i hate the kill mode and it honestly made my skin crawl to hear him activate it
hate that there were so many jokes at thor + the fat-shaming, that was bad and awkward and not good. also as excited as i am to see him in gotg3, i did not like that his arc took him here, it feels like an undoing of his growth into being king of asgard and i’m sad he won’t be there for the reconstruction, thor should have gotten more, let him live in his grief but don’t turn it into a joke
steve’s ending OH BOY STEVE’S ENDING........ i’m still processing but, look, his arc should have been about letting go of the past, it should have been about making connections in the present and moving on, about building a home and a family with the avengers, but instead we got this. we got this because the avengers failed to truly be a family. i’m happy for steve, that he found peace and happiness in his life, but oh boy, this was the wrong way for him to hang up the shield and it’s just bad
this movie would have worked better if they were friends, if the avengers actually developed into a family rather than a group of co-workers (with friendships between some of them, true, but they aren’t a cohesive unit). but then that’s what i have comics and fic for
anyway i’m going to go read some comics and fic now because they’re better
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jezfletcher · 4 years ago
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1000 Albums, 2020: Albums #30-21
This is the first of six posts wrapping up my and Sam’s 2020 Music Project. Once again, as we have for five years now, we’ve hit 1000 albums from the year. In fact, this year, we listened to 1074 albums released in the year (December 2019-November 2020, inclusive), plus 102 throwback albums (not from 2020), and 1698 entities in total, which also includes tracks released as stand-alone singles, EPs and the like.
While we listen to the same set of music, Sam and I have quite divergent tastes, and his choices will be quite different from mine. But I’m hoping for a couple of high-profile crossovers. There are certainly a few albums this year that we both very much enjoyed.
As a programming note, I’m ordering my posts slightly differently this year, in order to keep Sam’s anticipation of my posts as high as possible (after all, he’s the one who most cares about this). Rather than giving the long list of “almost ran” albums right at the start, thereby eliminating all the real contenders, I’m going to count down my Top 30 albums ten at a time, after which I’ll reveal the longer list of outlier albums #31-100. That way, he’ll be thinking “ooh, will Butch Walker be in his top 10??” right up until the last post. Except I’m bound to disappoint him, because Butch Walker comes in at #54.
After I’ve finished the albums, I’ll list my top tracks in two posts: the first will be the outliers, the second will be actual writeups of my genuine favourite tracks of the year. Usually I provide my top tracks without much commentary, but this year I’ve got a collection of ~30 tracks or so that I do want to say something about individually.
Before we get there, though, let’s look through the first set of my top albums of the year.
#30. Saint Saviour - Tomorrow Again (chamber folk)
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A great collection of music, with an ethereal folk quality running through it. But they elevate it with chamber instrumentation, in particular some very fine string arrangements. These work perfectly with soft vocal harmonies, and some oddly catchy riffs. It is, in some ways, quite sullen, but the otherworldly quality stops it from ever being less than fascinating.
My favourite track here is a real stand out: Taurus. It fits beautifully with the rest of the album, while also being the exemplar of what makes the album good. The haunting piano riff, which is eventually doubled with intersecting vocal lines is just a beautiful piece of music.
Recommended track: Taurus.
#29. Post Animal - Forward Motion Godyssey (psychedelic rock)
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This was an album that took out an Album of the Week award in February, but it was one that I didn’t necessarily think a lot of for the rest of the year. When I came to relisten to it, I was reminded again that this stood out. This isn’t your regular psych-infused indie rock. It has a hardness to it which helps, but more that that, these folks play with harmonic and melodic shifts that don’t necessarily make sense. It almost feels like a new tonality at times—just enough to catch you off guard and make you constantly re-evaluate where you’re balancing in listening to a track.
My favourite track off the album is the self-titled Post Animal, but to be honest, there’s a great deal on the album of similar quality—it’s the combined weight of all of the great stuff that propels this into my Top 30 albums of the year.
Recommended Track: Post Animal
#28. The Jerry Cans - Echoes (Inuit neo-folk)
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An album I liked well-enough on the week we listened to it (it took out the third place spot to two albums which are now below it in the list), it took until relistening for me to get it into my head that it was genuinely the best and most interesting album of the week. Combining mildly folk-infused pop rock with Inuit-language lyrics and judicious use of throat-singing, this is the kind of album which you’re forced to consider on its own terms.
Mostly, though, it succeeds by being catchy, well-written rock. The folk parts are just icing on the cake, and provide it with a differentiating point that really help elevate it when you’re comparing it to other top albums of the year. There are a number of good tracks here, but I’ve picked Atauttikkut, one of the ones completely in Inuit and with the best incorporation of the rhythmic throat singing at an appropriate point.
Recommended Track: Atauttikkut
#27. Aloud - Sprezzaturra (blues rock)
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This is a surprising entry for me, and it’s likely to surprise Sam as well, as this is another that didn’t stand out that much in the week I heard it. But on the numbers, it was definitely an album that warranted a relisten. And once I’d taken the whole album, rather than just the isolated track I added to my “revision playlist”, I saw what a rich collection of music it was. It’s not specifically limited to blues—it takes in a lot of jazz and soul influences, in the way of an artist like Lake Street Dive (#3 album of 2016 for me). And there’s variety across the album, which makes the whole album a much richer experience than listening to just your favourite track or two. I mean, isn’t that the great point of an album in any case?
Picking out a single track, as a result is difficult, and the one I singled out the first time doesn’t even feel necessary like the best candidate. Instead, I’ll go with Hungry Land, which almost takes a bit of jazz-era Chicago or E-Street Band kind of crunch to it.
Recommended Track: Hungry Land
#26. The Phenomenal Handclap Band - PHB (psychedelic soul)
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Again a band which can really pump out those jazz influences, these guys also play with nu disco, experimental pop and dreampop to give a surprisingly diverse album. It’s an album that’s often based around those driving jazz riffs though, even when you get a good danceable track like my top track Riot.
Quite surprisingly, despite this being one of my top albums of the year, I don’t think it’s among their personal best work, meaning that there’s ample room for the 2022-ish PHB album to really blow me out of the water. They’re capable of it.
Recommended Track: Riot
#25. Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit - Reunions (alt country)
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This is one of the rare albums where my list will agree with the bulk of the “best albums of the year” lists. It doesn’t happen often—I like to think it’s because I listen to a shit-ton more music than the average music journalist, but this is probably kidding myself. Anyway, despite not agreeing very often, this is a match, and it’s a fine album. Isbell has a strong sense of honest songwriting, and can put together something that’s heartwrenching in both tone and lyrical content. Tracks like It Gets Easier are hard-hitting numbers, while others provide much needed levity.
My personal favourite track on this album is Be Afraid, which has a great hook in the chorus, which feels neatly rhythmically contorted.
Recommended Track: Be Afraid
#24. Badly Drawn Boy - Banana Skin Shoes (indie pop rock)
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Part of our music project this year was listening to all of the albums which won the Mercury Prize for album of the year, from Primal Scream’s Screamadelica right through to this year’s winner Kiwanuka from Michael Kiwanuka (which we actually heard as part of last year’s music project). Amusingly, Badly Drawn Boy’s album The Hour of Bewilderbeest, which won the 2000 Mercury Prize came up not long before we discovered a new album from the group, 20 years later. And this is a very fine album. It has that quality I love in established artists’ later work, which is that they feel a sense of freedom of what they’re creating. Here, they’re much less serious and affected than in Bewilderbeest, allowing a fuller sense of humour and fun to their lyrics, and providing more of an upbeat drive.
There’s no less complexity to the songwriting though, and there’s some biting satire to the content. But it’s put into a remarkably delicious container. Often you don’t realise some of these poppy numbers are ascerbic as they are. A couple of really good tracks on here, but I think my pick is Is This a Dream?.
Recommended Track: Is This a Dream?
#23. MOBS - Cinema Paradiso (80s pastiche pop)
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There’s always a place for pure pop in my album lists, and MOBS not only provide us with pure pop, they throw it through the magic 80s synthpop filter. It comes out blasting the other end with cheesy neon energy and a oiled-up saxophonist wearing leather pants. It’s high-energy stuff, pulsating with a kind of groove and energy that is too often eschewed in modern popular music.
There are two tracks I particularly love here, Big World and School’s Out, both of which take funk and disco rhythms and throw all the pastiche of the 80s on top. All with a rich, bassy production quality that sounds a lot more modern. I will say that I thought early on that this might be higher in the list than this, but on relistening it felt a little more like a “solid” album with a couple of really great fun tracks on it.
Recommended track: School’s Out
#22. Jason Wilson - Sumach Roots (eclectic folk)
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This is an album that over the year since its January release has become something of a meme between Sam and me. Because it was an album we both really liked overall, and yet for both of us, it was difficult to point to any individual songs that seemed to really illustrate why the album was good. Hence the term “a Jason Wilson” entered the parlance, meaning an album that we liked despite the seeming lack of individual standout tracks.
Partially, the reason this is good is its eclecticism. It kind of runs through various modes of melodic folk, perhaps with reggae influences being something of a touchpoint across the album. Wilson assembles a good ensemble of musicians to match his flow, and there’s a consistent feeling of coherence as a result. While it’s hard to pick out an individual track, I personally like the double/half time reggae of Happy Little Sisyphus, which has its own relentless quality as though it’s constantly driving its own rock up a hill. But again, this feels like an album that you can’t gauge just by listening to a single track in isolation.
Recommended track: Happy Little Sisyphus
#21. DMA’S - The Glow (Australio indie rock)
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A really good collection of music from the Australian group here. I would have said I “surprisingly liked” their 2018 album For Now, but this is an album I absolutely embraced. It’s also an album I’d somewhat forgotten about until I did relistening at the end of the year. It won my Album of the Week back in July when it was released, but it largely didn’t feature in my thought process for the end of the year until I realised what a concentration of great tracks it has. Criminals, Round & Around, and title track The Glow are great pieces of enjoyable pop rock, infused with just enough aggression and drive to give them an edge.
My personal favourite track though is Never Before, which swoops upwards with an almost ethereal, psych-channeling vocal line, still while bringing the crunchy guitars and driving beat underneath to move it forward. But there’s a lot that’s good on this album, and while this might not canonically fit the definition of “a Jason Wilson”, it’s also an album which feels like it becomes more than the sum of its parts.
Recommended Track: Never Before
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lore-a-lie · 7 years ago
Text
Chapter 1, Act 3: 110’37’’ (110 Minutes, and 37 Seconds)
Daily Life
Kaede was the last to enter the AV room, as she made sure to remind everyone to come down before making the trip herself. Kokichi was on Gonta’s shoulders making sure everything up there was hooked up the way Miu wanted it, while everyone else had taken what seats they could. The Monokub pads were still in the same order Kaede and Kokichi had previously agreed upon since this was their idea.
Kokichi had initially wanted to do the opposite order of who voted for what, so those who didn’t want to see the videos went first. Kaede couldn’t tell at the time if it was out of petty spite against them disagreeing with him or to give them an excuse to leave early if they really wanted to, so she decided to quietly believe the latter. That didn’t stop her from making her own changes to it, like being against keeping Ryoma’s last since he was most interested in what could be inside it.
It boiled down to Kokichi and Kaede first since they pushed for this, then Miu so she could go back to her projects if she felt she needed to. That did result in Kokichi pestering what she had commissioned from the inventor but he eventually dropped it in favor of focusing on the task at hand. Ryoma was most eager so he would be next, followed by Korekiyo since he was against it and they decided Maki would go last. After Korekiyo would be Kaito, Tsumugi, Kibo, Himiko, Tenko, Angie, Kirumi, and then Gonta.
“Why exactly am I the one going last?”
“So you can sit there agonizing about what we’re going to see! Duh. Nee-heehee~”
“No, that’s wrong! We agreed on this to try and respect your wishes best we could. This way if you really don’t want to see your own you can just leave without missing anything else. Angie and Kiyo still at least seemed curious about what their “motives” could be so I thought having them be earlier would be okay.” Angie was making a puffy face as she considered it before she reluctantly nodded in agreement, Korekiyo held his hand to his mask in thought for a while but eventually shrugged his own consent too.
“And so you didn’t try to kill us until after the show’s over!”
“Please don’t talk like that.” Keade scolded, but Kokichi couldn’t care less about the number of glares he got from that comment. “Is this okay with everyone?”
No one else had any objections or questions about when they were going, so when the lights went off everyone settled down to see what exactly Monokuma could have believed would drive them to kill.
“Alright! Back by popular demand, it’s time for the motive video~” Monokuma’s voice crooned out over a title screen proving it was indeed “Kokichi Oma’s Motive Video”.
As it went on it showed Kokichi and his fellow “DICE” members, all but himself in clown themed masks to protect their identities, and explained the nature of this group. How…Innocent his “secret organization” really was despite all of Kokichi’s earlier claims. Honestly, it sounds more like they were an overblown gang of pranksters than the sort of world controlling monsters he liked to paint it as being.
Only 10 members strong, indicating that the 9 masked figures seen here behind their “leader” really were just it. Sounds more like they were his best friends, maybe even practically family for him, rather than “goons” who disliked him as much as he’d claim they did.
They say you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their friends. If this video is accurate this means a lot of what he said has been lies, just trying to trick us into thinking he’s a worse person than he is. How could someone only interested in harmless, petty, nonviolent pranks possibly be enjoying a killing game?
Then the scene changed and the group of 3 girls and 6 boys were behind bars. It’s unclear how badly hurt any of them were but there was blood on their previously spotless (but still ragged) white outfits much like Kokichi’s own and at least one was lying on the floor. At the end Monokuma’s avatar appeared over that image mocking him over how little he knew about the “event” that happened to these people so precious to him, taunting him to try and find out as if graduating could help solve this.
“Well so much for being the Ultimate Evil Leader huh?” Despite his insensitive words Kaito was obviously taken aback by all of this, as if unsure what to do with this information. It made sense to her, as it shows Kokichi does understand the value of teamwork and companionship at least as well as Kaito does. His experience was just in a more close-knit, personal way than Kaito’s astronaut training opened him up to.
“Kaito! I’m… Sorry that your friends are in trouble like this Kokichi” Kaede reached out as if to try patting his shoulder but decided against it due to how closed off his body language became.
“Guess you were lying when you said no one outside would miss a little menace like you back then, huh?” (Seriously Tenko? Now is NOT the time for hateful wordplay! )
“I’m sure they’re fine, this has to be a lie! After all, if their crimes are as petty as it claims they couldn’t be in too much trouble for anything right?” Tsumugi offered to try and lighten the mood.
“Unless it wasn’t just the law they got in trouble with,” Ryoma mumbled as he stared at the screen as if he was lost in a memory of his own.
No matter what anyone said Kokichi just sat there impassively looking forward but Kaede could swear there was a sharpness in his eyes that wasn’t there before and his knuckles were nearly as white as his shirt. For all his talk he really did choose to hold off on watching his video until it was time to do it with everyone else instead of coming in with the upper hand.
As agreed upon as the second ringleader Kaede’s was next. Looks like every video’s going to start with Monokuma making explicit who the video was for by stating their name and talent, which made Maki in particular bristle for reasons unknown.
Next was an image of Kaede’s family, her mother, father, and sister smiling proudly at the camera in front of her favorite piano. She remembers when this was taken, right after her last big show before all of this happened. Then Monokuma starts talking about how close she is to them and how they’re all waiting for her to get back home. But as he starts talking about how worried they’re getting now that she’s been gone for so long without a word, the image changes.
The room’s dark, everything trashed, even her piano was broken now, but worst of all there’s no trace of where her own family has gone. He makes it sound like looking for her lead to them all getting into some sort of accident, and she’s just about ready to throttle him to find out what that is. But only Monokuma! She’d never hurt someone else over this, never her friends. (Except maybe the mastermind if I got my hands on them for causing everyone so much needless pain. For both the living and the dead. )
“Mom, Dad…”
“Wow, Kaede you really are boring aren’t you? Even your lines are sooooo cliche, I think you need to hire a better writer.”
“Oh so now the clown prince of crime has something to say? Leave her alone, this is no laughing matter!” Tsumugi came to her defense this time, only barely beating Kaito to the punch. And in a less literal sense at that, given how his fist is raised.
“But he doesn’t have any scars-” (Seriously Miu, that’s what you’re choosing to take from all this?)
“He wasn’t a clown, that doesn’t count-”
“Can we not ignore Kaede’s plight in favor of arguing about comics right now? This is serious you guys” Kaito managed to get everyone back on track. It was nice to see Tsumugi restrain herself from getting off topic while it lasted, particularly to try helping someone else for a change.
“Indeed, the loss of a family member is no small matter, even if it’s only a vague possibility. At the very least it didn’t show them in any kind of direct distress, that sort of damage to the room could be easily staged or done when they were gone. However I don’t recall you mentioning a sister before, is she your twin perhaps? You both look remarkably similar.” Korekiyo’s offered distraction of a more pleasant type of reminiscing was greatly appreciated so Kaede gladly took it.
“Y-yeah, we’re twins but she’s a bit younger. We get along great, even though I think she’s... kinda bitter she didn’t also turn out to be some sort of Ultimate like I am? Since it’d put me in the spotlight so much, and would end up with her either getting ignored or mistaken for me which is the worst. I mean it’s one thing when we’d want that to happen, but when it’s a genuine mistake it’s just frustrating and awful... We’d do the “twin switch” trick a lot when we were younger, but all our folks ever had to do to tell us apart was stick us in front of a piano, it didn’t even matter what type.”
“Aww, lucky I’ve always someone I could do that with! Hey, Tsumugi do you want to try it sometime with me?” Tenko eagerly asked, cooing about how “cute” it could be.
“Ah, you do remember the Cospox right? That won’t really work out I’m afraid, not unless we both dress up as the same fictional character. A bit of a shame since it does sound pretty fun. Maybe we can think of something similar to do with everyone later?”
“Oh, I think that’s a great idea! We could make a great big party out of it, and everyone can wear fancy outfits! I can do the decorations if Gonta and Ryoma will help me get supplies and put them up~” Angie said.
“I-isn’t that kinda random? And it sounds like a lot of work…” (Himiko says that but she does look interested. Maybe she’d like the chance to have us as an audience for one of her magic shows?)
“Well, it’s an idea for another time at any rate. With how the videos may be we might need this sort of random levity if we can find a way to get everyone involved. Maybe even show off what we can do for each other if we want.” Kaede suggested since it sounded like a fun way to get together for everyone.
“More work for me to do? Let a girl catch a fuckin’ break guys, my stamina's good don’t get me wrong, but even I have my limits. Speaking of let’s just get my vid started so I can leave already okay? Your little “talent show” can come later, just like-”
Right on her cue, Miu’s video did just that, Monokuma’s voice being appreciated for once as no one wanted to know how exactly she was going to finish that thought. (Please let her motive be cleaner than the rest of her.)
All that was seen was what looked like a workshop of sorts. All sorts of half finished projects and equipment could be seen but it’s hard to tell what any of it was supposed to do. Monokuma starts going on and on about how wasted all of her work’s going to be if she can’t leave and get back to them. How no one else cares enough to realize they even exist, much less how to make them carry on her legacy.
He even starts naming a few, a machine that can safely recycle those cheap plastic bags no one knows what do with into things like medical gloves or… Condoms??? Another that would help clean and regulate water supplies when resources are low. Even some that sound like they’re meant primarily for emergency relief efforts or helping the handicapped. But only if they’re finished, they’re useless like this. He goes on to claim she’s useless like this. And how badly the world might need some of these now due to an “event” going on that he refuses to clarify.
“... That’s it?” Tenko breaks the silence that followed.
“WHATT’YA MEAN THAT’S IT YOU BASTARD?! Those are my babies we’re talking about! Do you have any idea how many people I could help with those? I mean sure obviously my “while you sleep” series was my most recent pride and joy, but only because I couldn’t get the headway I wanted on any of those other suckers. I promise they are going to definitely blow those measly little “eyedrop contact” designs I sold way back right outta the fuckin’ water!”
“Wow, that’s really impressive Miu! I had no idea you cared about other people this much.” Kibo looks pretty proud of her actually. This was a surprisingly mature motive for an egotistical and rude girl like her. In a different sort of way than her fellow students were expecting her to be “mature” at any rate.
“Well duh, why do you think I’m willing to let you fuckers give me requests without charging you out the ass for ‘em in this situation?”
“But… Aren’t you even a little concerned there wasn’t anyone in it?” Angie brought up, which was a good point. The only thing seen in the video were her machines, no friends, family, or coworkers.
“What’s that supposed to mean jailbait?”
“Yeah, everyone else so far had people they obviously cared a lot about and cared about them, so where’s your parents or anything?” (Tenko I’m not sure this is the best thing to be asking about now.)
“Who fucking needs ‘em? Barely do jack for me anyways except give me shit because I point out how school’s a fuckin’ waste of my precious time now.”
“Talk about an ungrateful brat.” Maki’s voice had a new sharpness to it, beyond her normal bluntness. Not that she wasn’t always honest, something just felt more personal this time. (I guess someone who never had any parents would be pretty upset hearing someone else complain about being cared about.)
“H-hey. Th-that’s not true, my work more than earned my keep. They’re the ones who-!”
Miu cut herself off as her voice cracked and Kibo tried to help calm her down. No one bothered asking why there weren’t any of her friends at that point. Given who she is this should have been obvious, but the idea she was this alone regardless of if it was by her own doing was a sobering reality nobody wanted to address. The only other sounds until the next video started was a quiet sniffling.
Ryoma’s video started the same way as those before it, but something clearly went wrong. All that was there when his name and talent were stated was a Monokuma in a yellow hard hat in front of a black screen with yellow “under construction” tape running along the top and bottom. And when he spoke again-
“Unfortunately there is no one in the world who is important to you.”
It didn’t matter what “sympathies” or “apologies” Monokuma gave after that sentence, the damage was done. (It doesn’t even matter if this is real or a lie this time.)
“... I don’t know why I expected anything else.”
“Holy shit. I’m… I am so sorry Ryoma, I had no idea.” Kaede was too stunned to say much else. It was her fault he had to see this.
If only they looked through the videos first, then maybe- No, Ryoma wanted to see this too much for anything to be done barring them trying to make one up, and who knows how that would have gone. Some leader I'm turning out to be, doing my friends more harm than good again .
“Hey, at least this means if you do have people outside that means they’re completely safe from Monokuma!” Tenko tried giving this her own positive spin, but all she was doing was kicking up dust.
“Atua agrees, and wants to remind you that you aren’t as alone as you fear. He says she’s still watching over you and everyone’s wishing you well from the other side-”
“Tell your god to shut up and mind his own business.” (What the hell Angie, what were you expecting him to say to that?! What are you even talking about? You’re as in the dark as the rest of us aren’t you?)
“Well, you do still have your cat right? The Russian blue you talked about before? I’m sure they’re waiting for you and Monokuma just overlooked ‘em because it’s a cat!” Even for Kokichi this attempt at a kind lie sounded pretty weak, and he realized it too, but he was still trying to help the best way he knew how.
I wonder if it’s because he’s feeling just as guilty about this? He was more likely to have peeked at these than I was and we both knew it. This was his plan. How could we have known not all of these videos would be “motives” to get us to commit a murder?
“Are you sure a familiar wouldn’t be enough to count? Miu’s didn’t have humans in it either-”
“Come on man, it’s a fuckin’ cat! That’s way harder to find than my glorious resume, of course this sad sack of shit couldn’t find ‘em. Why’d you think guys have so much trouble finding puss-” It was nice to see Miu managed to bounce back to normal at any rate. Kibo was still holding her hand but she sounded as strong and assured as she always did. Just not nice enough for Korekiyo to let her finish her sentence.
“Do not forget, we all promised to remain friends when we leave this place did we not? Regardless of those who are gone you do still have us here for you should you find yourself in need of our support.” His words here were rather unexpected, normally it’s Kaede to be the first to push the value of this promise. (He was the one that said being a bit insensitive was useful for “avoiding suicidal thoughts”, wasn’t he? Is... Is this hitting too close to home for him too? What if Ryoma’s video isn’t the only like this?)
“Aren’t there some prisons that let you have pet cats too? For therapeutic purposes as I recall. If you must return to prison when this is over we can all try to give a good word for you to have you transferred to one if you’d like.”
And with that, any progress towards a lighter mood they may have been making was gone at Kirumi’s words. The uncomfortable truth hung in the air, souring any positive notions for what’s “outside”.
“Oh fuck. Right, prison’s a thing ain’t it? We’ll be sure to visit you too, as much as we can, okay man?” As well-intentioned as Kaito’s words were it didn’t seem like anything being said was helping Ryoma that much.
But his eyes weren’t as hopelessly empty and blank as they had been when the film first ended, hearing how many people here tried to speak up for his sake, so Kaede considered it a small victory and made a promise to herself to spend more time with him from now on. (Will that make things better or worse? Will it be seen as concern or pity? Will there even be enough time for this to matter anymore?)
That awkward silence stayed until Korekiyo’s video started up. There was something already a bit off about this one, as Monokuma started off talking as if he found this, rather than make it himself, and is making it sound like he’s doing Korekiyo some sort of favor by showing it to him.
This video is an actual video for a change, not the static images with basic animations and voice over of the previous. Ironic the history nerd’s motive is technically the most high-tech, as low as the quality the film may be, as he might have appreciated the more Kamishibai-esque natures of the others. (That’s what that was called right? The thing with the traveling picture based storytellers who’d give candies to children to get them to listen. Maybe not the best comparison, not exactly my field here.)
A young woman appeared in some sort of hospital bed, and this time she’s the one doing the talking rather than Monokuma. She’s clearly addressing her little brother, but something feels very off here. It starts normally enough, she’s repeating some of what the doctors told her, how it isn’t looking good, and that she doesn’t want him to feel guilty over anything since he can’t be there right now. Sounds like they might even be the only family they have right now too, as she doesn’t breathe a word about any parents or other relatives. (But that wouldn’t explain where the money came from for the equipment or his trips.)
But then while it’s like she’s trying to give him advice to stay calm despite how bad her situation is, it almost feels like she’s coaching him on what to do to. “You mustn’t” this, “You mustn’t” that, all in order to hide how he’s feeling from others. And it takes no time at all for him to try and start doing what she says too, though all it really does is keep him quiet at the moment.
He did mention she made his current “uniform” too because she didn’t think his previous one “suited him” right? This is feeling… A bit more controlling than I previously thought. I mean no one would blame him for being upset, none of us have been told our loved one is dying no matter what we do. What sort of motive is this?
Right as it seemed like she was just about done with what she wanted to say, finishing with telling him how much she loves him and how no matter what she’ll always be looking out for him best she can, she’s interrupted by her own coughing.
Her fits’ nearly as violent as Korekiyo’s own shaking, which only gets worse at the sight on the screen. The sight of blood on her hands. Her blood on white sheets.
It’s as doctors start to rush in to try and help, alerted by the machines going off, that the visuals of the video finally cut off. But it isn’t a Monokuma avatar with a vague warning that appears at the end here, just his sister’s voice one last time over the black empty space.
“But remember Korekiyo. Most of all... You mustn’t forget your promise to me. ”
There’s almost a chill in the air at those words, regardless of what this “promise” may be. Even so, despite everything Kiyo’s still clearly trying to maintain his posture and keep quiet like she told him to, even if it isn’t working that well. It even sounds like he may be on the verge of hyperventilating under his mask as Kaede tries nudging his arm to get his attention. It’s not clear if he notices thanks to the layers he’s wearing as he just keeps hugging himself tightly.
“I’m so sorry Kiyo. I had no idea your sister was doing this poorly. No wonder you wanted to get back home to her as soon as you could.” Kiyo starts a bit at Kaede’s words, it looks like he nearly forgot he wasn’t alone.
“I-... Yes, I had mentioned that already hadn’t I?”
“At least we can see the creepy’s just a thing that runs in the family, eh Gimpy?” (What the fuck Miu?! Even if you’re just trying to help lighten the mood that’s uncalled for right now!)
“ I beg your pardon? ” (Yikes. Okay, note do not risk insulting his sister to his face. Ever. He’s scary enough when he doesn’t look ready to kill someone thanks.)
“She did come across as a bit... Intense, didn’t she? B-but I don’t think Monokuma would use this as a “motive” for you if she wasn’t still at least a little okay, right?” (Oh god Tsumugi why, this is Not Helping.)
“Being so spirited in such a state would appear to be a good sign for her overall health and recovery, even if that ending was… Ominous. How long has she been like this if that’s alright to ask?” (Okay thank you Kibo, that helped calm him down a little somehow, his breathing is more even now. Less ragged.)
“She’s been prone to illness since she was a child, some of my earliest memories of her were from visiting her at one hospital or another. This case was rather… different than most of her previous conditions however.”
“What exactly was the promise she talked about?” Angie has an odd look on her face, like something’s troubling her more than the tone that came up with this “promise”. As if she’s only half listening.
“... She was always lonely and often bedridden, so she wanted me to help her… Make new friends while on my travels. So she wouldn’t need to be so alone anymore, even when I was away. Only female companionship though, she was rather adamant on that part, and I’m more than happy to help her.”
Then why did this sound so much more serious than that? That’s kinda a weird thing to make be her parting words, is Monokuma trying to guilt him by making it sound like she thought he hasn’t kept that promise? If she is gone and I’m the first person he’s asked who agreed to it that might be true  He’s got some light back into his eyes now at least, he’s even sounding more like himself again.
“At least she has excellent taste! Limiting herself of the stresses and troubles degenerate males cause will surely help her get better soon. I could try visiting if that might help her too, I’m often told my energy’s “infectious”!” (I don’t think that was meant as a good thing Tenko. Given how his mask twitched it must have been a good enough pun to get a smile from him at least. Unless that’s a grimace. Still progress!)
“If you mean to insinuate my own presence causes her issue I must strongly disagree on that front, as I’m the most consistent company she’s ever had by far. I believe her reasoning was less about worries towards her physical safety as much as it is cultural norms regarding social interactions between genders and her definite lack of female contact in general beyond that of medical professionals.”
“Wow. This explains so much. The weird girliness, the creepy face mask, the sister comple-ow” For Kokichi’s safety Kaede cut him off with a warning jab and a glare. Thankfully Korekiyo missed what he was getting at towards the end, so for now Kokichi gets to live to see another day after all. (Hopefully. If he’s lucky.)
“I could do a show at her hospital… That tends to bring spirits up. Not sure if her problem’s something my level of cure spells can cover at the moment though, sorry…”
“If there isn’t anything too wrong with it we could all give her a visit! She can’t mind some guys stopping by once in awhile right?” (Okay even if boys could be okay you might be a bit much for her Kaito.)
“... Thank you all for your consideration. Shall we move on to the next video now?”
Kiyo definitely seemed less distraught than he did at the start now, but something still felt off. He was still only speaking of his sister in the past tense, made more concerning by how his sister’s footage makes his video feel older than the others have so far, but at least he was making future plans. Albeit only ones that can happen if his sister’s still stable when everyone gets out, and not ones that directly involve him.
It does feel less awkward to think of him as “Kiyo” now, so at least some of this as a bonding experience is working right? Or maybe it’s because of how wrong his name sounded when his sister was saying it. Not really looking forward to meeting her anymore, but I can’t really afford to tell him that yet. Too soon.
Kaito’s was next to come. A photo of him in his astronaut gear standing between an elderly couple appears that Monokuma identifies as his grandparents. It changes to the couple sitting on a couch looking concerned, and like Kiyo’s this is actually real footage of them, though it’s less grainy than his video was.
They talk about how all they want is for him to never give up and keep on living, not just for himself but for them too. Monokuma’s voiceover then cuts in and claims the two got into some kind of accident right after this interview, but as is typical he refuses to go into any more detail than that.
“Oh, wow Kaede I’m sorry. Really I am! Kaito’s is waaay more boring than your video was.”
“OI SHUT THE HELL UP YOU BRAT-”
“Easy there Kaito, you’re fine and I’m sure they are too. They certainly looked safer than other examples so far yeah?” Kaede put a hand on his shoulder and helped push him back into his seat, saving Kokichi’s face from a punch to the jaw for at least a few minutes longer. Hopefully. For a boy with such a cute face he sure doesn’t care much about keeping it that way.
“If they don’t know about the killing game, why would they be so concerned about you “surviving”?” Maki’s voice cut in like a knife. “Is there something you aren’t telling us?”
“Jeez Maki Roll, you worry too much. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it and it’s pretty cute for you, but it’s not like that. It’s just astronaut training’s very stressful and the job itself is dangerous ya’know? They’ve always been a coupla worry warts, no biggie.”
“What have I told you about calling me that?”
If looks could kill, his grandparents would be very upset with all of us right now. But she isn’t objecting to the fact she cares which is a lot of progress for her! Great job Kaito. Now PLEASE stop trying to make your way to an early grave for once?
“Oh gawd, please take this weird flirting elsewhere so we can move along already, okay?” (Kokichi why does it feel like I’m putting more work into keeping you alive than you are!?)
One strongly restrained but furious Maki and a securely duct taped Kokichi later everyone was indeed ready for the next video. Time to see if Tsumugi can win out in the contest for “least interesting motive video” or if for once she won’t be able to claim to be the plainest person in the room.
Its opening was as plain as one could expect for her, an image of Tsumugi with one of her cosplaying groups with Monokuma talking about how much she loves working with them. Sounds like they even did other types of fanworks too, something about writing and designs.
Most of the references flew of Kaede’s head since she couldn’t really identify “who” anyone was meant to be or if this was what they genuinely looked like. Then came the transition to a shot of where they worked in tatters, much like Kaede’s, with one of their abandoned buttons with a streak of blood on it in a way Kaede’s fairly certain she’s seen on a graphic novel cover somewhere before. (I don’t recognize this logo though. Is it DR as in “Doctor” or an abbreviation for a multi-word title? That red mark feels familiar, like it’s on the tip of my tongue, but I just can’t place it.)
“And here comes the “oh no some event happened! Find out what, next time on Monokuma’s mystery theater!” teaser at the end just like all the others, see? Nothing special.” Tsumugi says this but she’s clearly nervous about what she’s seen. It’s impressive what a brave face she’s been able to keep, though it may help unlike the rest of them she has had time to process this already.
“I’m suddenly grateful he didn’t actually try to call them that.” Kaede joked before asking, “Still, aren’t you worried more about them? It looked to me like seeing that button freaked you out a little.”
“W-well of course I am, I mean there was blood on it and everything! But I’m a part of a lot of groups you know? So if one of them was in trouble I’m sure one of the others would be trying to help them out, since there’s a lot of loose connections like that with us. I don’t think Monokuma could have possibly done something to all of my close friends since a bunch of them aren’t even in Japan, so I’m just… Choosing not to think about it.”
As she didn’t look too worried about all of this the group quickly let the topic drop. Avoidance may not be the best response to have in a situation like this, but at least it isn’t anything more dangerous.
As the videos had hit an almost pleasant lull in their severity everyone decided to take an intermission, to stretch their legs and whatnot. Despite earlier concerns though no one decided to stop watching with the others though, even Miu claimed she wanted to stick around to at least see Kibo’s since her workload wasn’t that bad now that she thought about it. (I wonder if that means she’s nearly finished already?)
On the way out to the hallway, Kaede pulled Ryoma aside.
“H-hey, listen about the video-”
“I’m not going to do anything stupid if that’s what you’re worried about. Nothing’s really changed for me after all. I won’t be putting everyone’s lives in danger over something like this.” (Ouch. I wasn’t really thinking about what might happen if a body was found without a murderer. That could be dangerous.)
“I wasn’t- I didn’t think you were going to. I just wanted to make sure you know how much we really do care about you. You may try to keep all of us away but you’re still our friend here. Nothing you’ve shown to us indicates you are a bad person, no matter what you may have done in the past. So please, why not let us get to know you? This might sound selfish or arrogant but… Maybe we can become your reason for living if you can’t find one on your own.”
“You’re right, that does sound pretty selfish. But in an honest, naive kinda way. I… Appreciate what you’re trying to say. Thank you. I’ll think about it. But I promise I’m not going to do anything drastic. I’m not sure Kiyo can say the same thing. He’s weird, and something about him has never really felt right to me, but you might want to check in with him next if this is going to be a “thing” for you right now. I don’t think he’s a bad kid, and I may be reading things wrong here, but his motive seemed more like mine than one to lead to a murder if you know what I mean. And unlike Miu, he isn’t all that close to anyone in particular from what I’ve seen.” (Well with how creepy he is that is kinda expected. But he’s right.)
“Yeah, I thought as much too. Thank you, Ryoma. And if you ever need to talk I’ll listen, okay?”
He gave a bit of a smile as he walked away. Far from a happy grin but less melancholic than those before, probably meant to comfort Kaede more than anything else. It looked like Kaito was running up to him too, probably with something similar to say. She overheard the word “training” but not much else, so it sounded like maybe he was setting up a way to spend more time with the former tennis star. Kaede couldn’t really focus on that though as she tried finding where Kiyo’s gone off to.
She didn’t need to go very far as it turns out as he was muttering to himself in the library across the way.
Looking around in the corner Rantaro died in. It’s still a small comfort the books were put back to how they probably were originally rather than in that death tr  No. Not. Now. This is much more important.
“You okay there Kiyo?” Kaede softly asked, but the answer was obvious as he nearly jumped and seemed to wipe away some tears before he turned to face her.
“A-ah, hello! I hadn’t heard you come in, my apologies. I’m doing better I believe, nothing to be overly worried about I assure you.”
Nope, he stuttered and I was the one able to sneak up on him for a change. That’s enough to be at least a little worried about, even if he didn't look like he's been crying. Not that I haven’t heard him when he’s come up to me before nope, definitely have never been spooked by a certain creepy too tall ninja man. Which is kinda weird come to think of it, with how good my hearing is and the fact that he’s always wearing those heavy boots  FOCUS KAEDE!
“Well if you’re sure. I just wanted to let you know that if you need someone to talk to or anything you can always come to me about it okay? I’m sorry you had to see something like that.”
“Thank you, that is very kind of you to offer. But I’ll be alright... I was just getting a book to read later, in case the films to come make sleep difficult to reach tonight.” (More like the one you've already seen, but okay.)
“Hmm, that sounds like a good idea. What exactly do they have here?”
The ten-minute break passed by pretty quickly like that, since there were a lot of books to look through and most of them looked dreadfully boring. Kaede did find a cute looking romance novel though, which would hopefully come in handy. She couldn’t really tell what the book Kiyo found was about, as the title was in Russian or something. The mood in the AV room certainly felt better now than it did before their intermission, as everyone began coming back in to see what else Monokuma had in store for them.
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Bill Murray’s Lawyer Shows That Lawyers Have A Good Sense Of Humor
By Trevor Haefner, The George Washington University, Class of 2020
October 6, 2020
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At times it is easy to forget that lawyers are people too, who enjoy a good sense of humor. During these tumultuous times in our nation's history, it is helpful to separate from the discourse for a second and laugh at an exchange between two lawyers. It may be news to some, but American icon Bill Murray owns a golf apparel company. In an advertisement for one of the brand's golf shirts a Doobie Brothers' song, 'Listen to the Music," was used to help market the product. However, it became publicly known that Murray did not ask for permission to use the song because of a letter written by lawyer Peter Paterno on behalf of the Brothers [1]. While this may appear to be a harsh accusation, the letter proves to be quite hilarious.
Paterno is a lawyer with King, Holmes, Paterno & Soriano and felt compelled to speak his mind via this letter. In the first paragraph of the letter, that lasts only half a page, displays his playful side, "It's a fine song. I know you agree because you keep using it in ads for your Zero Hucks Given golf shirts," [2]. He then continues with a clever play on words, "However, given that you haven't paid to use it, maybe you should change the company name to 'Zero Bucks Given,'" [3]. Paterno is not particularly upset by Murray's actions which likely means that the Doobie Brothers as clients are not offended either. Given that this is not a high stakes issue for both sides it is refreshing to see lawyers take themselves less seriously. Paterno continues to say, "It seems like the only person who uses our clients' music without permission more than you do is Donald Trump," [4]. Comparing Donald Trump to Bill Murray may be offensive for some, or a compliment to others, but the joke is humorous, nonetheless. This is not the end of Paterno's teasing remarks, he might have felt that this was a great opportunity to express himself. "This is the part where I'm supposed to cite the United States Copyright Act, excoriate you for not complying with some subparagraph that I'm too lazy to look up and threaten you with eternal damnation for doing so," here he is not only poking fun at Murray but himself too [5]. In most situations, a lawyer would be vilified for not executing the proper protocol, but Paterno is in a position of power to act as he pleases. He concludes his letter with one last shot at Murray's ego, "We'd almost be OK with it if the shirts weren't so d**n ugly," [6].  Paterno's writing is absurd which is what makes it satisfying to read.
Bill Murray's lawyer for his golf company, Alexander Yoffe of Yoffe & Cooper, replied to Paterno via Twitter. There is no bad blood between the two parties as Yoffe writes, "First, I would like to compliment you on finding levity in the law at a time when the world and this country certainly could use a laugh," [7]. It is uplifting to see what could have been a chance to ridicule another lawyer for being outlandish turn into a lighthearted situation. Alexander Yoffe did not want to be outdone by his peer, which lead him to utilize Doobie Brothers' song titles in his response. "We would also like to confirm that both our firm, and the good folks at William Murray Golf, are indeed fans of the Doobie Brothers' music, which is why we appreciate your firm's choice of 'Takin' It to the Streets,' rather than to the courts, which are already overburdened 'Minute by Minute' with real problems," he eloquently states [8]. Yoffe also offered to send a shirt to Paterno, as well as members of his practice, as a good gesture. In his conclusion, he once again used a song lyric, "At least that's 'what this fool believes,'" [9]. Seeing a lawyer be imaginative with his word choice is an amusing reminder that lawyers can be creative.
While this case will most likely not be taken to court, it is valuable to explore copyright laws for music. Copyright law is contained in Title 17 of the United States Code and managed by the US Copyright Office [10]. An artist only has a limited amount of time to have a monopoly over anything he or she creates. This relates to the US Constitution in Article 1, under Section 8. This section gives the government the power "to promote the progress of science and useful arts, by securing for limited times to authors and inventors the exclusive rights to their respective writings and discoveries," [11]. Whenever a new song, or piece of work, is created it is automatically under copyright protection. Still, to protect from copyright infringement the work must be registered with the US Copyright Office. This gives the owner the ability to demand damages and attorneys' fees if his or her copyright is disregarded [12]. Therefore, if the Doobie Brothers believed that Murray's use of their song was damaging to their well-being, they do have the right to bring the issue to court. However, there is a time limit for copyrighted work before it enters the public domain. Works that were published up to 1978 have a maximum of 95 years from the year it was published. After 1978, work is under copyright until the last surviving author has passed, with an additional 70 years [13]. It seems that Murray's company would have to wait several decades to use those songs without permission, but thankfully that issue has been resolved.
________________________________________________________________
[1] Weiss, Debra Cassens. “Lawyers for Bill Murray and the Doobie Brothers trade barbs and humor over use of song.” ABAJournal, September 28, 2020. https://www.abajournal.com/news/article/lawyers-for-bill-murray-and-the-doobie-brothers-trade-barbs-and-humor-over-use-of-song.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Ibid.
[9]. Ibid.
[10]USA Copyright Law for Musical Works. (n.d.) Retrieved October 1, 2020. https://www.pdinfo.com/copyright-law/music-copyright-law.php.
[11] Ibid.
[12] Ibid.
[13] Ibid.
Photo Credit: Harald Krichel
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dragonandtiger · 7 years ago
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Digimon 00 - Fragments - 25
“Huh,” FlaWizarmon said as he scratched at his head, staring downward from his cliffside vantage point. “Well, that’s… certainly different.”
The view before the Chosen Children and their entourage was that of a massive carnival, complete with brightly colored tents, food stands, a ferris wheel, and even a roller coaster. It was a sight that would’ve normally filled a child with absolute joy.
And yet, the assembled children felt nothing but apprehension.
“Is this really… an enemy stronghold?” Ken asked hesitantly. Even from the distance, he could faintly see Digimon scurrying about, enjoying the various facilities.
“Different strokes for different folks, dontcha know,” FlaWizarmon said with a shrug. “Some Digimon want big palaces or fortresses, others want their own personal paradise.” He reached up to tug on the brim of his hat. “Either way, they still intend to kill ya, if given the chance.”
“What a disgusting display of debauchery,” Mystimon said, with a grunt. “What sort of fool would be lead astray from the Holy Beasts by flashing lights and silly music?”
Witchmon gestured about the carnival before them. “Offhand, I’d say about at least a hundred, if not more, given the size of this crowd.”
Ryo rubbed the back of his head as apprehension crawled beneath his skin. He had no words to explain why the carnival made him feel so uneasy - it didn’t seem much different than amusement parks he had been to in the past - but there was something about it that left him on edge.
Keiko noticed Ryo’s unease and cocked her head slightly. “Don’t worry. Past appearances, this place isn’t any different than any other Digimon stronghold or village.”
Ryo failed not to flinch. “Yeah, right. I… I guess I just find it kind of creepy that an evil Digimon picked an amusement park as a base. These places are supposed to be fun and not… you know.”
Keiko shrugged, completely unfazed by the concept of a corrupted carnival. “They might have a theme going depending on what kind of Digimon they are, or they think it’s a good way to trick Digimon into dropping their guard. Who knows? At least it’s not a nursery or a school this time.”
A bead of sweat trickled down the back of Ryo’s neck. “I guess that’s true.”
“Welp, no point in standin’ ‘round here!” FlaWizarmon said as he adjusted his hat. “Shall we get goin’? This fight ain’t gonna happen on its own!”
The gathered Chosen Children glanced at each other before giving a small nod, confirming their determination to proceed forward. Keiko led the way with Nyamon close on her heels while Ryo and Leomon took up the middle with the rest of the fighters. Ken walked in the back with Neemon and Bokomon, holding Wormmon closely to his chest.
Ken stared at Keiko and Ryo’s backs as they strode far ahead of him, his feelings mixed. He couldn’t shake the sense that he belonged up at the front with the other Chosen, but he knew that doing so would only endanger himself. Grimacing, he looked down at Wormmon, who kept a sharp eye out for danger.
“If I wasn’t such a terrible Chosen, I wouldn’t be holding Wormmon back…,” Ken thought before he looked away with a sigh. “I wouldn’t be holding everyone back.”
The Chosen arrived at the carnival grounds without much trouble. Outside of the occasional glance from the gathered Digimon as they enjoyed the various entertainment and games, no one made an effort to harass the group. Of course, the Chosen knew better than to expect such good fortune to continue as they made their way into the depths of the whimsical stronghold.
Something bad was going to happen; it was just a matter of when.
As Ken followed after the others, a flash of movement caught his attention among the colorful tents. He turned his head just enough to get a glimpse of the source. It was none other than Kyoumon.
The puppet Digimon’s patchwork body blended in quite well with the carnival tents as he stalked after the group, doing his best to be sneaky - though, if Ken had been able to see him, his sneaking skills weren’t much to speak of.
Ken frowned before he glanced at the others, noting that no one else seemed to have spotted their stalker. With that revelation, he made a point not to look back in Kyoumon’s direction, lest he give the puppet away.
Ken wasn’t about to do anything and risk Keiko making good on her threat.
“Well, then,” FlaWizarmon said as he placed his hands on his hips. “I reckon it’s about time, dontcha think?” He turned to flash Witchmon a grin.
“I agree,” Witchmon said, returning the smile. “It’s about time.”
“About time for what?” Ryo asked as he turned to stare at the duo.
“For our ambush, of course~!” FlaWizarmon said, brightly.
Ryo’s eyebrows shot straight up. “What!? Ambush-?!”
“Welcome to my Carnival, boys and girls~!” a voice boomed.
A new Digimon appeared, looking to be a strange humanoid clown. He wore green spandex pants, a white spandex chest with green trim underneath a purple jacket with green markings and a split down the back to make twintails, which in turn were tipped with small golden bells that tingled with each motion. Resting on his head was a split jester’s cap, a golden crown with black twintails on top with a red stripe running up the left side with a yellow crescent moon charm on the tip while a blue along the opposite right to end with a blue star charm. Two black ribbons came out the back of the hat, fluttering about so that their tipped bells twinkled along with his jacket.
Tapping one of his long, curved black feet, the Digimon grinned with shark-like teeth before he pointed a white-gloved finger at the group. While his face looked human save for his long pointed ears, his face was painted white with black eyeliner leading to a black streak down either cheek and impossibly red lips.
“You’re just in time for the main event~!” the clown Digimon said, cheerfully. “Your deaths.” Several other Digimon stood around him, watching the group anxiously - including a plush-looking Panda with a long red scarf, a round gray opossum with red boots, gloves, and silly hat and a fistfull of sneering balloons that kept him airborne despite the logistics of it all, and a smaller more feminine looking jester with a purple jester’s cap and split red and black shirt whose entire lower body was replaced by a black orb covered in golden glowing lines.
Keiko stared at the Digimon for a moment before she let out a frustrated huff of air and rolled her eyes. “Of course.”
Nyamon’s ears canted back as she stared at the Digimon, then turned to FlaWizarmon. “It’s not really an ambush if it’s expected, you know.”
FlaWizarmon lifted a finger to his lips as he made a mock shushing sound.
“Jokermon! I should have known,” Mystimon said as he drew his sword, aiming it at the tall leader of the assembled Digimon. “Only a fool would ally himself with the enemy of the Holy Beasts!”
“Nice pun, dearie,” Witchmon snickered.
Mystimon blinked at that before he cast Witchmon a sidelong stare.
“You forget,” FlaWizarmon whispered, without actually attempting to keep his voice down. “He ain’t got a funny bone in his whole funny body. Any puns are pure accident, plain an’ simple.”
Witchmon let out a theatrical sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Amateurs should leave the comedy acts to the professionals,” Jokermon said with a sweeping flourish of his right arm as he bowed, before he lifted his head to flash the Chosen Children a vicious grin. “Though I can’t deny your talent born of your naturally comedic existence.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Nyamon said as she stepped forward. “See if it stops me from sending you straight to the Dark World.”
“So,” Keiko drawled, “do you plan on monologuing what Millenniumon promised you, or do you just want to cut straight to your deletion?”
Jokermon’s smirk widened before he suddenly lifted his hands, aiming them outward at the group. “Hah!”
Keiko stood nonplussed and glared defiantly at Jokermon, the air darkening around her as she kept her fists clenched at her sides, ready. Nyamon, however, instantly noticed the bright light below their feet. She barely managed to cry out Keiko’s name in alarm before the light exploded into a circle of light that blinded the both of them.
“Keiko?!” Ryo gasped out, straining to see even as he shielded his eyes with his left arm. “Nyamon!”
“I-I can’t see-!” Ken blurted out as he stepped back, the light forcing him to look away as his eyes stung with pain.
The light lasted only a moment before it was gone, and with it not only Nyamon and Keiko but Jokermon as well.
“Where… where did they go!?” Ken asked anxiously as he looked around, trying to spy any sign that might answer his question.
“Huh,” FlaWizarmon said as he crossed his arms. “A teleporter spell.” He glanced over to Witchmon, who nodded in agreement. “Don’t see those much these days.”
Though Witchmon appeared calm, the back of her ghostly cat rankled up. “I hate copycats. We should teach that joker a lesson about using one of my best tricks against us.”
Ryo was in no mood for levity as he whipped his head around in a panic, his eyes dazzled with colorful spots from the intense light. “Keiko! Nyamon! Where are you?!”
“We have to find her!” Leomon shouted as he clenched his fists. “How far could that spell have taken her?”
“Hold it, hold it, hold it!” the opossum Digimon chirped as he floated upwards, kicking his feet. “What’s the hurry, yeah?”
“Don’t forget we’re here~!” the female jester agreed, with a giggle and a flirty wink of her left eye.
“You should be more worried about yourself!” the panda Digimon said as he stepped forward to shake a paw at the group. “Without Darkness to protect you, you-”
Pandamon was cut off by a sudden flash of steel that narrowly missed dissecting him, when Mystimon lunged forward with a scowl. The panda Digimon yelped as he scrambled back from the knight, with the other Digimon scurrying away to avoid a similar fate.
“Hm, hm, hm~!” Witchmon hummed in mock thoughtfulness as she pressed her fingertips together, her broom allowing her to loom high above the minions of Jokermon. “Is that so~?”
“I gotta admit,” FlaWizarmon drawled as he pulled the brim of his hat down. “It’s pretty damn hilarious that you lot think the only one you had to worry about was Lady Keiko.” He then lifted his hat just enough to flash his shark-like grin at the gawking Digimon. “Looks like school’s in, darlin’... and there’s gonna be learnin’.”
---
Mirrors. Mirrors and reflections and mirrors. That’s all there was to this place, just a maze marked with countless silver surfaces that reflected only Keiko and Nyamon and little else.
Keiko never cared much for mirrors. She could grudgingly admit their usefulness as a tool. She had certainly utilized them enough in the past. However, so many in one place reminded her of that past where mirrors played a key role in reflecting only dreams and ambitions that were never her own.
“We’re in the house of mirrors,” Nyamon remarked with a deadpan expression.
Keiko let out a frustrated breath as she considered their options. “Why do so many Digimon have to make a game out of toying with captured prey before trying to delete them?”
Nyamon shrugged. “Sadism, boredom, or both. Your pick.”
Keiko nodded grimly as she clenched her fists painfully tight. She was in no mood to be someone’s toy. Not ever again. “Nyamon, just smash thro-”
“Daughter.”
That voice. That woman’s voice. However many years it had been since she last heard it, Keiko could never erase the memory of it. Her body instinctively froze, muscles locking up so tight they quaked. She couldn’t move; she could scarcely breathe.
Nyamon stared at Keiko in confusion before she quickly glanced about. Her eyes drifted across the mirrors and their distorted reflections - some showing the two of them as ridiculously tall or impossibly short, others squashed or pulled wide to unrealistic proportions. But among them was a large mirror that reflected an entirely different vision, not of Keiko and Nyamon but a woman that the Digimon had never seen before. It was a mature, pale Japanese woman expertly adorned in makeup and a kimono of rich colors and nature patterns. Her black hair was immaculately tied up in a bun pierced by kanzashi hairpins and although she smiled with her painted lips, her narrow dark, dark red eyes were those of a hunter assessing its captured prey.
Despite not knowing the woman, a sharp sense of hatred filled Nyamon’s heart as the reflection glared down at them, as if they were insects. The hatred only grew as she heard Keiko let out the tiniest, quaking whisper she had ever heard from her partner.
“M-Mother…”
Nyamon’s ears canted back as she stared at Keiko with wide eyes before she whirled to face the reflection, her lips curling up to bare her teeth. “What!?”
Still smiling, the woman in the mirror fixed her gaze entirely on Keiko. Although short in stature for an adult, she still managed to tower over the little girl and Digimon before her. When she spoke, her voice was melodious and demure, but there was an edge of frozen steel beneath the glimmering surface.
“Did you really think you could leave your mother?” she asked. “It’s time to come home now, Daughter.”
Keiko shook her head in mute, horrified denial as she forced a rigid leg to take her a trembling step backward, but she couldn’t dare turn her gaze away from that woman. A raspy sound escaped her throat, a terrified squeak that came three times before she could finally eke out a single word. “N-no!”
“Keiko!” Nyamon said as she glanced back at her partner. “It’s a trick! It’s just a mirror!” Even as she said the words, she somehow couldn’t fully tear her eyes away from the woman in the mirror. Something about her set all her instincts on edge, as if there was truly a foe about to pounce.
Keiko couldn’t look away from the woman, but her partner’s voice kept her grounded before she could retreat further. With desperately grasping hands, she reached for Nyamon, who snatched them up immediately in a firm, but reassuring grip that couldn’t quite erase the shaking that ran through her body. She tried again to speak, to gather up the courage she gained from her years as an agent of darkness, but before that woman, she felt utterly exposed and powerless.
The woman sneered, finally focusing on Nyamon. “What a miserable creature you’ve conjured up, Daughter. It looks just like that wretched doll.” Her smile returned, a sharp slice that hinted at pearly white teeth as she returned her gaze to Keiko. “You still can’t let them go, can you? Even knowing that they’ll never want to see you again after you sent the police for them when you abandoned them as well?”
“That wasn’t me!” Keiko shrieked, voice cracking shrill as wetness stung the edges of her eyes. “You were the one who called the police! I just… I…”
“Ran away,” the woman said smoothly. “You betrayed them just as you betrayed me, Daughter.” She extended an arm and her long, pale fingers slid through the surface of the mirror, reaching out for Keiko. “However, unlike them, I will forgive you so long as you return to me like an obedient child, my little doll. As you always do in the end.”
Nyamon grit her teeth as her hackles raised along her neck. “You’re lucky you’re just a reflection - an illusion. But illusion or not, you will be silent!”
The woman ignored Nyamon as her hand fully emerged from the mirror, her long painted nails almost snatching the fabric of her daughter’s dress.
Keiko shrieked at the near touch and released her partner as fear took over. She scrambled back as though burned by an open flame, but there was little space in the maze passages to retreat. Even as she slammed back against another mirror hard enough to create a spiderweb of cracks behind her, she scarcely noticed, as could only see her mother coming for her like in her most terrible nightmares.
That fearful scream set Nyamon off. With a howl of rage she lunged at the illusion of her mother’s tormentor, slicing her claws downward to neatly severing the hand from its wrist.
While the amputation was bloodless, crimson splattered across the surface of the mirror, especially the woman’s face, and she screamed, screamed like that night that Keiko could not forget. It sent the Chosen of Darkness back to that night, full of blood and fear and desperation.
Nyamon about, planting her foot through the bloody apparition’s stomach, and by extension the mirror itself, shattering both to destroy the illusion once and for all. Razor sharp bits of mirror flew backwards as the mirror crumbled and dissolved into bits of data.
But the damage was done. Keiko sunk to her knees, eyes wide but unseeing, as the memory of that night overtook her.
“Tsk,” came a clucking sound, in Jokermon’s voice no less. Nyamon looked about for the clown Digimon to no avail, fury naked on her face. “Destroying another’s property… you Chosen Digimon have no manners. Fortunately, I can fix that~!”
A new mirror appeared to replace the one Nyamon destroyed, though mercifully it reflected nothing but her and Keiko, as well as the cracks repairing in the mirror the Chosen of Darkness damaged.
“You!” The words came out like a snarl as Nyamon continued to whip about, searching for any sign of her opponent, her fur bristled from her neck all the way to her tail. “I’ll destroy you!”
“Temper, temper~!” Jokermon said as a reflection of him appeared in the place where that woman had been, hopping into the scene like a cartoon character. His expression, filled with glee, turned into a mockery of admonishment with pursed lips as he waggled finger at Nyamon. “You talk quite big, but you won’t get very far in that form... and your precious partner is in no condition to help you, now is she?”
“I don’t need to evolve to tear you apart!” Nyamon hissed, her tail lashing, as she glared at the reflection of Jokermon. “Show yourself!”
“Very well~!” came the playful retort and a sudden motion caught Nyamon’s attention just before Jokermon emerged from the newly repaired mirror behind the distraught Keiko, scythe raised to strike her. “As you wish~!”
Nyamon knew the attack was coming, but saw it too late. “Kei-!”
“Kaaaabong!” Was the only warning Jokermon got before a guitar rudely impacted with his head. Jokermon flew back into a mirror as Kyoumon landed beside Keiko, holding his guitar threateningly. “Jokermon needs to back off from Keiko! Or else!”
“K… Kyoumon?” Nyamon murmured, stunned.
Jokermon got to his feet, his amusement swiftly replaced with murderous irritation. He glared at Kyoumon before he moved in swiftly, kicking the puppet Digimon’s guitar away effortlessly before stomping his foot down on Kyoumon’s stomach, pinning him to the floor.
Kyoumon let out a squeak before he gagged as Jokermon dug his heel into Kyoumon’s stomach, the puppet Digimon’s little paws grasping uselessly against the larger Digimon’s silly shoes.
“If you want to die that badly,” Jokermon drawled as he leaned down to loom over Kyoumon. “Then I-”
Darkness, pure and terrible pierced through Jokermon’s midsection, blowing a hole through his body and everything behind him - including the wall. His fragments burst into a spray of data before the rest of his body too dissolved, along with the data of the damaged scenery around him.
Kyoumon froze, his expression blank. He didn’t move from his position on the floor, staring at where Jokermon had been before he turned his gaze to look at the source of the darkness - Keiko.
Keiko stood in shadow, the light barely able to show the outline of her trembling fist or reflect off the tears glistening on her cheeks. Behind her was the faint shadow of something bigger, someone with grand wings and an anger that rivaled her own.
“Damn. You. To. Hell.” Keiko hissed through painfully gritted teeth.
Nyamon glanced to her partner, her ears drooping, before she moved over to place her paw on her partner’s arm gently. “Keiko…”
Keiko flinched at the touch, but did her best to relax, as the darkness enshrouding her waned and the echo of Narakumon faded away from Kyoumon’s view. A beat later, she pulled Nyamon to her and hugged her partner fiercely. It took her nearly a minute to eventually address Kyoumon, though she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“Thank you, Kyoumon,” she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion and tears. “I’m sorry… for what I said before.”
Kyoumon finally dared to get up from his position on the floor. He stared at Keiko for a moment before a happy blush appeared on his face, his tail wagging so that the bells jingled noisily behind him. “Hee hee hee...”
As light filtered in through the hole in the wall, so too did the sound of voices, including one immediately recognizable as Ken’s. “Keiko!?”
Nyamon glanced over Keiko’s shoulder to the hole just in time to see Ken cautiously peering in past the splintered wood, holding Wormmon closely.
“K-Keiko! Are you okay!?” Ken asked, anxiously. He paused when he saw the puppet Digimon, his eyes widening. “A-and Kyoumon, too!?”
“Kyoumon didn’t do nothing!” Kyoumon said, quickly raising his paws up to ward off further scolding or punishment. “Promise, promise!”
“Well, that’s one way to make an entrance - an’ an exit,” FlaWizarmon said as he approached Ken to peer inside, then immediately stopped when his eyes fell on the Chosen of Darkness. All levity disappeared from his face in an instant. “Lady Keiko?”
“Oh dear,” Witchmon whispered as her ghostly cat let out a mournful howl.
Keiko shifted so that the others wouldn’t see the tears flowing down her cheeks. Though she tried to wipe her tears away with the back of her sleeve, more came to replace them. “I’m fine.”
Ryo saw through the lie instantly and moved closer to Keiko as his worry grew. “What’s wrong?”
Ken furrowed his brow in concern and made to follow, only to hesitate after a step. He grimaced before he held Wormmon tight, stepping back. Given what happened the last time he tried to comfort Keiko, he imagined that he was the last person she wanted anything from.
“Has something happened?” Panjamon asked as he came to stand beside Ryo, his brow furrowed.
“I just…” Keiko faltered, resenting the emotion that she couldn’t quite hide from her ragged voice and tried again to stifle it. “…saw a ghost.”
“A ghost?” Mystimon asked as he approached, sheathing his blade. “What-”
“Mind yer business,” FlaWizarmon said, his sharp tone causing the knight to turn and stare at the scarecrow Digimon. FlaWizarmon ignored the stare as he gingerly stepped in through the hole so that he could approach the Chosen of Darkness, blocking her from the others’ view. “We took care of business outside, so what say we call it a day from huntin’ ol’ Millie and head back to Crystal Tower?”
Keiko nodded, refusing to look back at the others as she buried her face against the back of Nyamon’s head.
“Lady Keiko, how about I take you on ahead?” Witchmon said as she glided to Keiko’s side and gave a playful wink despite how she couldn’t see the Chosen of Darkness’ face past a wall of black hair. “Let’s let the boys finish up here with chastising the minions for being bad Digimon.”
Keiko nodded again, not trusting her voice not to betray her once more. She could still feel tremors running through her body as the cracks in her armor threatened to break down completely.
A moment later, Witchmon’s cloak encircled Keiko and Nyamon, teleporting them away from the group once more.
----
Narakumon and Tenraimon were already waiting in Narakumon’s temple when Witchmon arrived with the girls. Both were in their smaller, more human forms, which allowed them to better interact with the human child than their true forms would have.
And interact, they most certainly did. As soon as Keiko appeared with the Digimon, Narakumon was on the move. He crossed the distance swiftly, not even looking at Witchmon before he reached down to snatch his Chosen Child into his arms. Tenraimon wasn’t far behind, and she soon joined the embrace, even if it meant entangling her arms with that of her dark counterpart.
Now, back with her parents, her true parents, Keiko finally allowed herself to break down and cry. “Papa! Mama!”
“We’re here, Keiko,” Tenraimon said gently as she stroked Keiko’s hair. “We’ll always be here for you.”
“You’re safe,” Narakumon said, his voice gruff. “I won’t let anything happen to you, ever again.”
Keiko sniffled and buried her face in Narakumon’s chest as she let out her overflowing emotions in a wail filled with fear and regret.
Witchmon tipped her hat to the family and silently disappeared, leaving the DigiGods to comfort their adopted daughter in peace.
----
Keiko dressed in blood the day she arrived in the Digital World. Although the angel avatar of Light had healed her wounds, the red stains on her once pure white nightgown remained.
She was not surprised when the angels took her to the underworld to be judged by the god of death. Even when kneeling before a massive dark god that towered over her tall as a building she did little more than hug the living plush cat in her arms that cooed soothingly to her with comforting words that failed to reach her ears.
Keiko knew she was dead. Now it was time to be judged for her sins.
“So,” the grand god Narakumon said, his voice rumbling like thunder. “You are ‘my’ Chosen Child… the Chosen of Darkness.”
Keiko said nothing. She didn’t understand what the god was telling her. Even the gentle platitudes of Plushmon barely registered. Guilt was a molten ball of lead in her gut, crushing her fear under the overwhelming weight of her sins.
When the child remained silent, didn’t even bother to look at him, Narakumon grew irritated and impatient. “Well?” His voice boomed throughout his temple. “Do you have nothing to say to me?”
“I’m evil, aren’t I?”
Keiko’s voice was tiny, insignificant compared to Narakumon’s - a drop of rain when compared to the crack of a thunderbolt. Even still, Narakumon heard it clearly.
And was enraged.
“Evil?” Narakumon repeated, a sharp edge to his tone. “That is what you say to me!? You think me evil? Because I am Darkness, I suppose? Is that how you think of me!?”
The words, though overwhelming in their enormity and ferocity, failed to reach Keiko. Though her eyes were on Narakumon, she couldn’t truly see him. Even in the Digital World, she had not escaped the hotel room.
“I killed… Mother.”
Narakumon faltered, the wind taken out of his tantrum. He had been prepared for an argument on the nature of darkness and evil, one that he had many times before, but the child’s words immediately disrupted the pattern and left him off balance. “...What?”
“Mother,” Keiko repeated. “I killed Mother.” Despite the weakness of a voice so brittle it bordered on breaking, she couldn’t stop speaking after she began her terrible confession. “I stabbed her. I wanted to stab her. I kept stabbing her. I couldn’t stop. Now she’s dead. I wanted to kill Mother. I killed her. I’m evil.”
Narakumon was silent for several moments as he stared down at the Chosen of Darkness, his expression blank. After a moment, he glanced towards Zennyu, who gave a small shake of his his head before clicking his pen. The DigiGod frowned before he turned his attention to Keiko. Another moment passed before he moved to kneel down in front of Keiko to get a little bit closer to such a tiny child, ignoring the way Plushmon growled warningly at him.
Keiko’s watery red eyes focused on Narakumon as the giant moved in closer to her. “I’m going to suffer in Hell for eternity now, aren’t I? It’s what I deserve.”
The terrible silence between them lingered for only a moment.
“No,” Narakumon said, his voice much softer than it had been before. “You will not.”
A flicker of confusion pierced through the guilt and Keiko furrowed her brow. “How do you know?”
“Because I am the DigiGod of Death,” Narakumon replied.
“Digi...God?” Keiko repeated slowly.
“Yes,” Narakumon said. “And my word is law.”
Keiko was silent as she looked at Narakumon, truly looked at him for the first time. “I… I called the oni to take me away… because I really am an evil girl. I don’t deserve to be happy. Mother told me that, and I showed her she was right, and… I… I…” She trailed off with a sob, tears falling free. “Why don’t you hate me too?!”
“Because you are not evil,” Narakumon said. “There are many in this world who don’t understand what true evil is, and they use it to harm those who don’t deserve it. Like you. Like… me.”
Keiko sniffled, blinking her watery eyes hard so that she could see Narakumon through her tears. “But… you’re not evil. You… even though I killed Mother, you’re not sending me to Hell. I don’t deser-”
“Enough,” Narakumon said with a wave of his hand, taking care not to raise his voice this time. He hesitated before lightly touching the very tip of his index finger atop Keiko’s head, delicately stroking most of the tiny girl’s scalp. “I’ll hear no more talk of being evil. You’re not evil. You’re my Chosen Child, and that means you were chosen to keep our world and everyone who lives in it safe. That is not evil.”
Keiko stared at Narakumon with wide, disbelieving eyes. Finally, she could truly hear Plushmon purring reassurances in her ear, and she pulled her partner close as she leaned into the DigiGod’s warm touch.
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uomo-accattivante · 7 years ago
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We all know Hamlet. Or, certainly, some part of Hamlet: snippets from the seven famous soliloquies, a brooding man holding a skull, Reviving Ophelia. It’s known. I thought I knew it, anyway, as a former theater student who, like many, has read and seen the play several times in various forms. (Does The Lion King count too?)
Which, yes, I realize is a hacky, hyperbolic, and probably unnecessary claim to make. But he’s just so good in this play, as he’s been so good in so many things since his talents first caught our attention. He’s a classically trained actor of true range, one who can sing and dance, do comedy, action, and drama with equal ease and authority. He’s thrilling to watch, a prodigious mind sparking a nimble (and, yes, handsome) form into action. But he’s never showy; he doesn’t mug. Not in the wintry Coen brothers folk-music picaresque Inside Llewyn Davis, not in J.C. Chandor’s moody economic allegory A Most Violent Year, not in Paul Haggis’s shaggy civics mini-series Show Me a Hero, perhaps my favorite Isaac performance to date. Instead he inhabits, taking possession of a story’s world, and letting it take possession of him.
But that’s all been original stuff, roles he could make definitive by being the only actor who’s played them. But Hamlet is freaking Hamlet, as well-worn territory as there is in the Western dramatic canon. It takes a true thinking actor to not only mine something new out of Hamlet, but to actually clarify something about the melancholy Dane for a culture so steeped in his story. Watching Isaac delve into the role with his conversational yet lyrical delivery, one almost experiences the tale for the first time. Isaac finds the timeless, fraught humanity in a character who’s often played too carefully, too academically, as if he’s a term paper a young actor has to conquer to prove his mettle.
Over the play’s three-and-a-half hours, Isaac becomes more poet than player. His interpretation of Hamlet, as a decent guy who just can’t get past his grief, and is often thwarted by his own anger over that grief (he’s much like Lee in Manchester by the Sea, in that way), is sensitive and astute. He talks through each soliloquy as if these thoughts are genuinely, just then, blooming into being, not enshrined in literary tradition for centuries. Isaac’s organic nuance opens up the language, makes it almost contemporary. (Isaac seems to just speak Shakespeare naturally, like it’s a native tongue.) The graveyard scene—in which Hamlet regards poor Yorick and contemplates the fleetingness of all existence—is moving in a way I perhaps cynically didn’t think Shakespeare could be anymore. Same for the play’s final scene, which had members of my audience blubbery and sniffly with tears. At a Shakespeare play! In 2017! On a sunny Sunday afternoon in the summer!
Such is the power of Isaac’s graceful, unmissable performance, and Gold’s entire production, which uses some familiar Gold techniques—house lights, everyday modern dress, relaxed, almost improvisatory tone—to gradually breathtaking effect. This Hamlet has a steadily crescendoing artistry to it. It begins relatively bare-bones, save for the cellist who plays, rather effectively, throughout the show. But then it grows, by the final act, into something grandly theatrical—though still intimate enough in scale that none of its visceral immediacy is lost.
Ritchie Coster makes for a purring, halfway redeemable Claudius, while the great Charlayne Woodard is an imperious Gertrude whose (deftly rendered) realizations come too late. Peter Friedman is a winningly avuncular Polonius, an Upper West Side-type whose affable vanity betrays a dangerous obliviousness. Keegan-Michael Key adds levity, but also sincerity, as Hamlet’s watchful friend Horatio. And I love Gayle Rankin’s angry, hard-spined Ophelia, a refreshingly active and unfussy take on a character who can often become a tragic pixie dream girl.
The whole ensemble works in seamless concert in Gold’s weird milieu, staging a Hamlet I’ve never seen nor imagined before. A major theme of this production, as I see it, is the way parents can lay waste to the world their children are set to inherit—personally, societally—as they fumble after their own fading power. Which gives the play a truly timely, resonant shiver, as we contemplate our current political and environmental crises. The production is also about the more lighthearted aspects of parenting petulant, impetuous children (which is to say, most children, to some extent), and about the way the bonds of family are somehow both innately enduring and tenuous. Yes, all the big-stakes existential tragedy is there too. But Gold plucks the text’s subtler strings, teases out its quieter themes, creating full-bodied chords that have a rich, haunting timbre.
Gold’s production leaves us room to think, to really contemplate this revered play in unexpected ways. Casual, laid-back, yet bursting with feeling, this post-millennial, minimalist Hamlet is an invigorating approach to Shakespeare. (Much like Mark Rylance’s hyper-traditional Richard III and Twelfth Night were a few years ago. Hey, whatever works.) It’s all anchored with calm mastery by Isaac. Who, sure, may be a little old for the role, but all that added wisdom allows him to find such crucial and insightful detail—and empathy—in this forever-morose anti-hero.
Back in college, the dramaturg for our production of Hamlet wrote in the program that he hoped it was the last production of the play any of us ever saw, because it has been produced and produced into meaninglessness. I mostly still agree with him. But I think we can, and should, all make an exception for this soft-spoken wonder at the Public. After that, we’re done—but for now, savor and enjoy. Isaac and Gold make it nearly impossible not to.
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