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himebushou · 1 year

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I finished watching Shaman King 2021 yesterday! Some scattered thoughts on Episodes 38-52!

So much happened in this episode but absolutely everything has been wiped from my brain because WHAT is Marco's battle outfit —

Episode 38

Episode 39

I really need Team The Ren to win this fight!

Yoh finally gets to share his big news, lol

Man, the X-Laws' reveal was a big deal but again, it went at a 100 miles an hour so there wasn't much space/time to absorb everything... and I can't believe how huge that table has gotten, lol

Marco is. A dope.

Episode 40

For me, a Team Horohoro fan, this episode was... truly a lot. I want to know his full story (and despite what Yoh and Ren say, I know that they do, too). He was seriously amazing and guh, just such a fantastic character. I loves the kanji and etymology lesson from Hao, too.

I'm still kinda shocked that Yoh is back in the Shaman Fight as I thought that his being out of the game was a massive divergence that was going to set the series apart, but the way things have worked out is pretty cool!

And the Five Elemental warriors are gonna come from Gandhara, huh? Nice!

The new ending is GORGEOUS. Whoa whoa.

(Also, finally getting some closure for why Yoh has felt so off — poor chilled boy is so stressed.)

Episode 41

hjdjd THIS OST IS OUTSTANDING

I think Marco is dead dead (unless he'll be revived?) and phew, the stuff with the X-Laws' satellite was cool! ALTHOUGH. I'm wondering what the heck they saw that made Hao so damn angry.

Sati doesn't waste any time taking prisoners fjdk

YOH VS HIS ANCESTOR? NICE NICE NICE!

Honestly, some moments have been jawdropping fjhfh

And Oh!Oni was back! And beloved Matamune!

I love this Yoh and Amidamaru focus, eee

Episode 42

I am just becoming increasingly incoherent EVERYTHING IS SO EXCITING but phew, so many people kicked the bucket in this ep?

I am emo about Yohsen oh maaan

I CAN'T BELIEVE THERE HAS BEEN THIS BIG SECRET ALLIANCE BETWEEN GANDARA AND THE PARENTS AND MATAMUNE FHDJ YOWWW

Episode 43

And now one of Manta's relatives is getting in on the action and trying to nab the Great Spirit PHEWWW

Jun having trained with Sati? Whoa! And having the mana to resurrect THREE people? When Faust could only do one? I have some questions, but I'm happy my girl is involved!

But since Anna has also mastered the Ultra Senji Ryakketsu, surely she should also be able to resurrect people?

This is so wild but it's exciting so I'll roll with it!

Episode 44

ANNA VS HAO and there are still so many secrets there? THE TENSION.

And then the coffee!! I'm so glad that Yohsen is somehow still around fjfjf

Though damn, Hao, you cheapskate: pay your damn bill!

Tao Ran and Tao Yúan on screen together, yahoo! (Flipping heck, I loved those moments when Ren was so embarrassed about his family cheering him on, lolol)

BUT BLOODY HELL THIS BATTLE. TBH I really want Team The Ren to win because I do feel that they've got Yoh outclassed... the Ren/Horo lightning/ice combo is just too good. Though wow, Horohoro is MAD.

Episode 45

I'm so close to the end and I'm so sad!

Phew, so we find out which elements the boyos are going to have! I was fully expecting Yoh to have fire, so I was super surprised that it'll be Lyserg instead. Joco with the 'Wind of Change' makes sense, as does Ren with lightning (though I'm surprised that this was an element over metal, tbh, especially since Ren made some comments about Yoh's mastery of metal where Spirit of Sword was concerned) and Horohoro with water. Yoh as the sturdy earth guy is good.

(I'm slightly angsty for Ryu... there wasn't much of an explanation from Sati and Gandhara about precisely why the Elemental Warriors had to be kiddos, apart from the established conversation about adults knowing their ceilings. I assume that there's a bit more detail in the manga.)

This fight against the rest of the world, though? Huh, dramatic! I'm a bit sketchy about the whole laser thing becaaause I thought that was spiritual energy that was fired at the island, but it couldn't have been if the whole world is aware of it? So I have questions!

Everyone chillding in the hot spring is so cute, good gracious.

Episode 46

Wow, show's over. Hao is the Shaman King.

Episode 47

HOW is this going to wrap up in a satisfying way when we still have another 8 Patch Officiants to get through djdjd the Lyserg OST hits so haaaard...

Episode 48

Waaaa the adults are having a barbecue and the kids are fighting for their lives and we are losing healers left and right and Opacho can read minds and there are still SO MANY REVELATIONS crikeyyyy

Episode 49

The tone changes are so odd to keep up with; one second, Redseb and Seyrarm are dying and the next, Kalim is bringing everyone dinner and the guys are taking a break to recover mana when it's been explicitly stated they have 15 hours to save the world! This is so whack to me.

WAIT I nearly missed that there was a ton of stuff after the credits and djhff Horohoro doesn't like his full name?

TIME FOR MY BOY'S BACKSTORYYYY

Episode 50

Oh man, the way Tamiko died was actually harrowing and then she's revealed to be Kororo and Ren's just like. Horohoro is now in dope mode we must ignore him fhfjjlfj

Ren has been taking on most of these fights and his battle against Nichrom was swift, but cool; I loved Joco vs Thalim though — and Thalim himself was adorable!

Episode 51

ALL THE ELEMENTAL SPIRITS VS HAO!

I'm weeping Shaman King is so special the whole thing is just WE WILL DEFEAT THE BADDIE WITH THE POWER OF LOVE.

urgh urgh this OST!!

I'M NOT REAAADY DOR THIS TO END

Episode 52

I definitely cried during the last episode because parts of the ending were so beautiful; everyone coming together to show Hao that he could be saved — that salvation is in accepting your humanity and believing in the humanity of others. And I found Hao's mother's words so freaking soothing... I'm glad that Hao missing his mother was foreshadowed earlier, but we could have had more of that, I think.

And sure, they haven't fixed the world by 2007, but that is OKAY — most of them are around 22 and at that age, I was a wreck! So they have time and their lives to look forward to and... and I guess I disagree with the folks who say that the end of Shaman King is bad because they feel 'everything was pointless'; there's a lot to do and, even with guardian ghosts, shamans can't do everything alone.

I think this is an anime I could definitely rewatch, at some point. Wow. I love these characters and, as much as I griped about this, that and the other, I loved this story.

And I think it's so interesting that Yoh just. Didn't end up as the Shaman King djbdfh that;s definitely not what I was expecting!

#shaman king #wow my feelings

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everafterkeiji · 4 years

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Song: This Love by Camila Cabello

Summary: Love has so many definitions yet Oikawa never gave you the right ones.

Pairings: Tooru Oikawa x gn!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags,Genre: toxic relationships, angst, dozens of cuss words, manipulation

A/N: i promise i love oikawa- pls reblog & comment if u enjoyed!

Was it one of those nights again? The nights where everything is crumbling apart and you're holding onto someone who is broken as well.

Still, you find yourselves testing what it means to be in love.

"I can't keep watching you destroy yourself, Tooru!" You shout as he stands up from the bed then standing in front of you, his power towering over you.

"I'm doing completely fine, Y/N! What part of that don't you understand?!" He shouts back, with a tone stronger and louder one fighting yours.

I'm tired of meeting in the middle.

"Tooru- I support you but if I have to see you fucking lose yourself over a game then I can't handle it anymore!" He lets out a bitter laugh, backing away from you to stare you down. Each part of your body was trembling and his did the same. His body was drained from exhaustion and yours reeked of pain.

"Support me? Then fucking stop already! You said you'd always be there for me and now you're switching shit up?" He says, the drug in your veins fading while your hand trembles at the peak of his voice.

"I stuck to my promise Oikawa! What about you? Didn't you promise you'd always make time for me?" You asked- a slight crack in your voice remembering how tender he used to say these pretty promises.

"Well isn't that just so fucking selfish of you to assume I could make that happen."

He turns his back to you while your jaw was down to the floor, your eyes wide with tears streaming down every second and a heart snapped in half.

"You don't get to call me selfish when I was never a priority to you in the first place!"

Oikawa hesitates to look at you.

He knows what he'll see. A sight of you he's seen multiple times yet it always punches him in the gut with how he's aware that it was because of him.

How many broken pieces of your heart did you have to walk on for you to admit that he never puts you first?

If it was a battle on whose selfish, the king knows he's at the top.

"What the fuck? I tried Y/N! I'm always coming to your fucking rescue and it makes me hate the way you need me." He pities himself. He knew how low it was for him to say, your emotions are always valid to him- he treasures them because you hid them from him when you met, how hard it was to be open to these emotions with one person.

He was that person that you regretted ever being vulnerable to knowing he turns them like knives, striking you in each body part.

"Do you know how many times I had to ask myself if I needed you? God- you were so busy all the time I had to push away my own feelings for you, Tooru!" Your knees felt weak when you remembered how many times you've broken down without a shoulder to lean on. He should've been there- a call away whenever your tears came to you but knowing how he'd never let the game go, you threw away your sorrows to make sure his smile stays on.

"If you needed space, then just walk away!" He shouts, he runs a hand through his locks as he takes a seat back onto the mattress.

I did and each mile I went, I returned to you.

"Go on then- cause it's obvious we need it both!" You closed your eyes as you gripped the strap or your bag, ready to turn your heel on him.

But the flow of love in your veins insisted you to stay, to fix the relationship that was never complete.

"Tooru." You called out for him, desperate to touch him and forget everything.

But he pulls away.

"Just go, Y/N." He whispers, finally the soreness of his throat was growing on him. He still couldn't dare to look at you, he knows that his eyes would give away that he wasn't man that you wished him to be.

For the first time, loving him wasn't something you could endure anymore.

The next day comes in and Mattsukawa finds you in the corner of the empty classroom, with your sobs resonating in his ears.

"Y/N?" He calls out for you while he immediately rushes to your side, gripping both your arms, fearful that something happened to you on your way to school.

"I-Issei- hi." You stuttered in finding a way to replace the sadness in your voice.

"Did something happen? It's just me, Y/N." He says softly, caressing your arm as you wipe your tears with the sleeve of your uniform.

Oikawa wasn't there to walk with you in the morning.

What makes it better is that you couldn't sleep last night.

Now, you were scared. When somebody finally shows you concern, you want to cower away thinking that it'd be a waste of their time.

Selfish, is the first word that comes into your head.

"Nothing happened. I didn't get any sleep last night- I'm just really stressed out I'm so sorry." You said looking down, while Mattsukawa sighs sadly, taking you in his arms and patting your head.

"That's fine, Y/N. I can always help you with your studies if you really can't do them anymore."

What help is there for a heart covered in thorns?

"Thanks, Issei." You whispered while he pulls away from the hug, to rest his hand on your shoulder.

How easy it was to mask your feelings.

"It's nothing, I'll walk you to class." You nodded as he protectively walks in front of you knowing no one would want people to see how they broke down.

Oikawa sees you and Mattsukawa as he walks with Iwaizumi. He notices the way your orbs looked lifeless with heavy bags underneath, the paleness of your lips and how you constantly look down.

He's in it for it again.

"Did you two fight?" Iwaizumi asks, Oikawas eyes met with yours and you look away instinctively while he feels a sting to his heart because your eyes held fear.

Iwaizumi let's out a sigh, the silence was enough to give him an answer. Hanamaki meets with you and Mattsukawa while Oikawa wondered if he should even approach you.

He's reached the line of boundaries where everything was just filled with pain. Exhaustion never mixes well with insecurities. A hard working person like him makes unchangeable decisions, like last night and maybe several weeks before that.

There was just a massive difference between his love for volleyball and his love for you.

But the amount that he gives to volleyball, should be the same amount that he gives to you.

This is what he struggles with the most.

How can he juggle all the things he love to meet at one point? He can't just expect you to be on the court while his passion drives the ball, and he can't have the ball in his hands when you're in class with him.

It's possible to meet in the middle, but he chooses not to.

As classes went on, the gap between you and Oikawa grows bigger. During lunch, where were you? With Hanamaki and Mattsukawa. Even a glance from him would hurt you and now he can see a clear view of how perfection turned into wreckage.

By the time, practice was about to start he jogs up to you in hopes of talking things out, even a way to just get a response from you.

It was completely unfair. He'd call you so many names without reason while you fought and never even named him a single ugly thing. It's all his fault. For being up in the gym too late, for loosing his appetite and his energy to the point where he drowned you in his challenges.

"Y/N hey-"

"I'm gonna go, Oikawa." You cut him off before he can even say anything else. He feels his the way his breath gets caught in his throat. You didn't even spare another second before turning your back on him with the intention of walking away.

His eyes widen before grabbing your arm softly as he tries to pull you to his embrace you stood your weight to the floor.

"Y/N- c'mon love.. talk to me." He whispers, his hand shaking as it held onto you. You tried to rip him off but instead he surrounds his arms around you, his head leaning on your shoulder, tears forming as he feels the cold atmosphere of your body.

"I can't keep waiting for the time where loving you doesn't hurt me, Tooru." You said quietly while he harshly closes his eyes and holds onto you even more.

"I'm so sorry- I promise I'll be here and you don't even need to question yourself- I- just come back to me..please." He pleaded, desperation in his voice while his tears streamed down on your clothes. You too looked away as a pool of your own tears were resurfacing.

"Tooru-"

"I'll be better- no I'll be the best for you. Everything Y/N- you're not selfish, never- I'm so fucking sorry." He digs his head into your neck even more while you tried your best to not let out a sob.

"You promise?" It was so little, like you didn't even want to say it because your expectations of love never met with reality. Sadly, Oikawa heard it yet there was a second where he hesitates and you took notice of that. How tiny of a detail makes you hold back on everything you wanted to say.

He removes his arms from behind you while he stands in front of you, now opposite to the power he had last night. It seems like it was your turn to have him this intimidated by the tension.

He takes your hands, caressing them, then holding them up to his face as he places sweet kisses on them. Some of his tears fell on your hand and he let them stay, while you hated how it was a genuine sign that he could be honest.

"I do, Y/N." You stared at him while he begs with his eyes. A single tear escapes your eye as it cascades down your cheek and wipes it away with his finger leaving traces on it.

You give him a nod and this sets his heart on fire.

His lips tug into a sad smile while he gently meets his forehead with yours, closing his eyes. He was more than thankful for another chance.

"I love you." He says, still with eyes closed, only focused on the beat of his heart syncing with yours.

Once again, the drug of love leaves a reaction in your body.

"I love you too."

Then the next few days, there was an ounce of hope.

Oikawa's nights were full of sleepless hours and what makes him stay awake is you, or at least how broken you were.

He couldn't help but imagine how you were in deep helplessness and you couldn't even gather the courage to call him because you thought he was more important than your own emotions. He imagines how you'd rather push your screams onto the pillow instead of voicing them out or even how you chose to smile for him after heavy hours of being accompanied by stress and insecurity.

It haunts him how he called you selfish, how he made you think that it was your fault for even being his- supporting him even. He needed you- he did but this thought is always surpassed by the fact that he always wanted to be number 1, to beat his own demons and the ever mocking Shiratorizawa.

He couldn't even remember where he took off practice to stay with you. He often visits your room to rest for a while but he barely gets to do that nowadays. During the mornings was his opportunity to give you a fraction of his time but something so simple he still forgets.

So, he makes up for it.

Even with the help of Iwaizumi, Oikawa goes home by 6pm so he spends the night with you even if it's for a few hours only. If he was going to prove himself to you, he'd do with a 100% of his body.

He was on the brim of losing you and he wasn't going to let himself be the reason for you to walk out of his life.

"What's wrong?" You asked as he laid in your lap, stroking his hair.

"I'm just happy that's all." You leaned your head on the pillow as he takes your hand, intertwining it with his kissing it once again.

There it was, the bad kind of butterflies that swarmed around you.

You wished you didn't forgive him that fast, it was nearly a day when you forgave him. The space that he mentioned basically meant nothing as he also gave in to it. He struck a nerve that day yet you went and took his apology like you've begged for it.

You did wanted to avoid him at all costs because there was never a moment where his insults didn't replay in your mind. You needed for him to realize that he had caused another split to your heart, what you didn't expect is for it to happen within hours.

You thought that Oikawa would've argued with his ego before he could talk it out but it happened so instantly that it didn't give you enough time to rethink your decision of forgiving him.

Oikawa held onto his ego but he had to remember his heart or else he would've dropped yours instead.

"It's getting late, Tooru. You should go." You said sighing before planting a kiss on his forehead. He smiles before sitting up and embracing you tight like you could slip any moment now. You had your arms wrapped around him as his slow breaths rested on your neck.

"I love you, Y/N." He says, holding on to you longer.

"You need to go Tooru-"

"Why don't we go on a date on Friday?" He asks pulling away from you. You raised an eyebrow at him as he chuckles.

"I need to spend more time with you." That's when it was your turn to smile, it felt so good to lift the heavy feeling off your chest, seeing that he's genuinely trying to be the best for you.

Your hand reaches for his cheek, your heart swelling with joy as you look at him while he leans in to your touch.

"I'd love that." He grins as he pampers your face with kisses at how excited he was to see the smile on your lips return. You let out fits of giggles as he continues to cover your faces with delicate pecks.

"Tooru- baby!" You shout as he laughs before placing both hands on either side of your face.

"Good night love, hopefully you don't dream of me this time?" He teases making you roll your eyes as you sneakily land a peck on his lips.

"That isn't too bad." You said chuckling as he kisses your lips while you smiled before allowing your lips to move with his. You pull away, flicking his forehead with your finger.

"Go." You said laughing, he gives you a pout before sighing and taking his bag from the floor.

"I'll see you on Friday then?"

"You'll see me tomorrow, Tooru."

"That's even better." He leaves with a smile on his face while what remains on yours were heated cheeks.

It was good to feel how love flowed in your bloodstream again, it wasn't bad to take in some of it's harshness from time to time.

"Really? Oikawa hasn't brought that up." You pout as Iwaizumi shrugs beside you, it was Friday and your boyfriend decided to miss it for some odd reason.

Iwaizumi brought up the topic of an upcoming match and that Oikawa saw an article of how Ushijima takes the crowd by storm again. He's never mentioned it to you but you did notice how he'd walk you home and instead of staying, he'd leave for some specific reasons.

"Anyway, will you be there?" Hanamaki asks, biting into his apple. You nodded of course. You couldn't miss the opportunity to see him outwit the opposite team again.

"I just hope he doesn't go crazy with training again, Wakatoshi taunts him even through a photo. I don't wanna see him- forget about his health." You wanted to say how you wanted to avoid arguments but the boys seem to agree to what you said knowing Oikawa oversteps his strength all the time.

"I'll watch over him." Iwaizumi says looking at you while you smile at him, grateful that if you weren't always there- it was Iwaizumi that you can count on.

"Thanks, Haji."

"Are you not worried about my health, Y/N?" Hanamaki says pouting making you laugh while Mattsukawa flicks his forehead with a straw.

After classes, home was calling your name for you to get ready on your date. There was the familiar feeling that kicks in, how you got excited when his name on your phone lights up the dark room, or when you see his jacket on your bed- it was back. The love bug has returned, how the first bite felt like love was overwhelming but you wanted to handle it.

God, you felt so silly- acting like one of his fan girls who got noticed by him. You were lucky enough to even obtain the title of being his so of course your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when he admitted his feelings to you. Though, it felt good. After the whole argument, you were scared if that feeling can ever come back now that it did- you were more than relieved.

The clock goes on as you wait for him to arrive.

Sure, it had been a good 20 minutes that passed but you were assuming that there'd be a meeting since there was a match coming up so you let your patience take over for a while.

But 20 minutes grew into an hour, and an hour turned into 2 more.

You couldn't even cry because you knew, it was too good to be true. Storming out your house changing out of the outfit you initially planned, you chose to dress into something more comfortable knowing it wasn't going to happen anyway.

You knew where to go.

As your feet lead you to the Seijoh gym, your heart was growing darker with each step.

Hearing the sound of volleyballs impacting on the floor, you already knew.

"Oikawa! Go home!" Iwaizumi shouts while the stubborn setter shakes his head, spiking another ball, out of breath as he do so.

You heard Iwaizumi loud and clear, that was enough for you to run back home, to never face his lies again.

Maybe you were a fool for lovebugs- but the bite wasn't to make you fall in love.

It was for you to stop.

"Go home, Oikawa. C'mon." Mattsukawa says sighing while the first years were already bidding them goodbye. Iwaizumi waves them off and tells them to rest well while Oikawa was still spiking to no end.

"I can't- I need to beat them." He says panting while the other third years share a look, remembering your words.

"What about Y/N?" Iwaizumi asks and it seems like this doesn't hit Oikawa like it's supposed to.

"Yeah, isn't it Friday? Aren't you guys supposed to be on a date?" The moment it leaves Hanamakis mouth, Oikawa stops. Iwaizumi sighs in annoyance when he sees the way his best friends expression drop with shock.

"You forgot didn't you?" Mattsukawa asks and suddenly he's brought back to the moment where he found you crying, now realizing that it was to put up the fact that Oikawa was the only reason.

Suddenly, the silence of the gym surrounded him like a tight space while his mind went at war for his mistake.

"Fuck! I- I have to go." Oikawa stutters as he immediately grabs his bag but before he leaves, he sees how disappointed his teammates looked at him. He looks away as he runs to cut the distance between you and him.

"This isn't going to be good for the both of them." Iwaizumi says sighing before picking up a few stray balls. The other two agree sadly but they hope that you two would be able to withstand the issue.

But Mattsukawa feels like you were at the tip of the cliff already.

After a few minutes, dozens of knocks awoke you from your corner as you knew who was at the other end.

"Y/N? Let me in please.." He begs through the door as you felt the tears continue to drip down your cheeks. You closed your eyes as Oikawa leans his head on the door, praying you'd open it.

And you did.

Your heart was numb, your eyes were giving out but watching him stand there made you feel alive, because you knew this was the last time you'll ever let the drug of love fool you again.

"Y/N- I'm so sorry I just we had a project and-"

"I didn't think you'd still lie to me." You said with a dry voice as his heart was pinned by your words.

"I didn't even know there'd be a match." You added, chuckling bitterly as Oikawa bites his lip looking down. You let out another laugh, the red hue of love was fading in your system turning into a deeper shade of how you've let the toxicity slip from your notice.

"I'm so fucking sorry-"

"Tell me then, can beating Ushijima bring you everything you've ever wanted?"

He was quiet. You put him in a spot where he shows too much hesitation that you wished you didn't even ask in the first place.

"And if you won, I guess that's when you can realize to put your health first." You continued stepping forward as his eyes looked at your exhausted ones.

You surprised him by tugging onto his shirt, gripping it with every might left in your body. You held him because there was nothing else for you to hold onto.

You tried to grab the last thread of love strapped in your body but it seems to have been cut when you saw him at the gym.

He didn't know if he could hold you because this a whole other side of you he prays to never see again. He just wanted the warmth of your skin on him but why was it that you felt the coldest to him?

"So please tell me, what do I have to do for you to stop choosing me?"

You said this with every timbre of your voice trembling as you land a firm punch to his chest then turning your back to him, letting out a sob.

"I understand, Tooru. God- I always have and it fucking sucks that I know I can't do anything about it." Oikawa looks at you, adrenaline rushing to his heart when it sinks in.

"I can't choose, Y/N. You're making this hard for me because I love both." His voice cracks at the idea of choosing between you and a sport he's loved since he was a kid. His dreams that he wants nothing more then to happen, while he visualizes a possible future with you.

"I've always known what you'd choose, I just wish I fucking knew when I needed to stop believing that it could be me." You were defeated and naïve, you should've known that it would bring you to this conversation over and over again. You tilt your head, harshly gasping for air as you sniffle, the heaviness of your eyes taunting you to sleep the pain away in hopes it'd be a dream instead.

"Y/N stop fucking saying that- you're acting like I didn't try and give you everything that I could!" He yells, his own eyes brimming up tears. You were surprised to hear this but seeing how his cheeks and ears were painted red, you knew that he's been trying to release all the things he wanted to say.

"And I did the same yet you always turn it on me, Tooru! All I've been saying is that I just wanted you to make me feel like I could be at the top of your list- even for a second but I just keep getting played over and over again." You rambled on and what makes you crack under the pain was a scoff.

"You knew what game you were playing, why didn't you stop?" He didn't attempt to stare at you since his question felt like it was mocking you.

You should've left. The moment where the crowd cheers for him while your shouts became the weakest, you should've known.

Oikawa did too.

He thought you would've gone and walked away when you had the chance but what shocks him is that you stayed. There's a voice in his head that tells him that what you two had can never remain permanent but he held onto his beliefs that he could make you stay no matter how difficult the game was.

"Because I fucking love you too much Tooru! God if I could just- get it out of my fucking veins then maybe I could realize how I've gone into a trap instead." You shouted, walking towards him with both your eyes wishing for it to be over.

"What trap are you talking about Y/N! I love you just as much as you did and I tried to make things work but it- isn't working anymore." His voice fades with his ending sentence while you've gone to a corner, sobbing and sliding off the wall, sitting on the floor as every ounce of love dies on you when you hear him.

"I don't know- it's a word that I can never know what it means- I can admit that it is scary." You said looking at the night sky, with your knees to your chest as Oikawa smiles fondly at your words.

"What's so scary about falling in love?"

You look at him before answering.

"Everything."

"Maybe I can show you that it can be beautiful." He says, staring into your orbs. You smiled at his words before resting your hand on top of his while he blushes before intertwining them.

"What if it hurts?" You ask him, adjusting your position as you listened to his convincing words.

"Love always hurts." He says sadly, chuckling in order to ease how bitter it was. He sees how your reaction didn't falter because you knew it was true, so with his hand lifting your chin to meet his eyes, he speaks.

"But that doesn't mean I can't take some of the pain away."

You felt Oikawas presence beside you as he leans his head on your shoulder closing his eyes as two people were tired of ripping each others heart.

"Maybe you should set me free." You whispered, your voice gave out, like your last words. Oikawa sucks in a harsh breath as you close your own eyes and he sees the final tear fall from your cheek.

"But I really don't want to."

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#oikawa x you #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa imagine #oikawa x y/n #hq oikawa #iwaizumi x you #hq iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi #mattsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #aoba jōsai

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theculturedmarxist · 4 years

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For those that might not know, Grover Norquist is Washington’s anti-tax poster boy since the Reagan administration. Calling him an anti-tax lobbyist is missing the vast majority of other shit he’s responsible for or has had a hand in. He’s basically been integral in creating the immensely shitty situation in regards to a failed government and overpowered business lobby that we’re in today.

Anyway, I wanted to share the absolutely delusional bullshit these people say to each other, because it’s absolutely illuminating.

Grover Norquist On Taxes, Socialism And The Demonization Of The Rich

Grover Norquist is President of Americans for Tax Reform (ATR), a taxpayer organization that opposes all tax increases as a matter of principle and has been leading campaigns for tax reductions since 1986. ATR was founded at the request of President Reagan and asks all candidates for office in the United States to sign the Taxpayer Protection Pledge, a written commitment to vote against any tax hikes while they are in office. Rainer Zitelmann spoke with him:

Rainer Zitelmann: In Europe, governments are already looking beyond the coronavirus crisis and planning massive tax increases. In particular, there have been increasing calls for a wealth tax on the richest within society to pay for coronavirus measures and guard against future crises. Supporters of free market economics, on the other hand, are calling for tax cuts to get the economy back on track once the current crisis has abated. What do you think will happen in the United States? If Trump is re-elected, will he cut taxes again? And what will happen if Biden wins?

Grover Norquist: Once we’re looking back on coronavirus in our rearview mirror rather than having it flying at the windshield—then what? Little will happen before the November 2020 American presidential election. Democrats will demand higher taxes and massive spending, Republicans will propose tax cuts. But the Democrat-controlled house will block any tax reductions and the Republican-dominated senate and the Trump veto will block any tax increases or spending explosion. Should Trump win re-election, Republicans will move to enact their stated goal of reducing the corporate income tax to 15% from today’s 21%. They will push to index capital gains for inflation—so capital gain taxes would only be due on real gains, not inflationary gains. Should Biden win the presidency, and the Democrats capture the senate, Biden has promised $3.4 trillion of new taxes. That is three times what Hillary Clinton threatened/promised in 2016—and she lost for being too left wing. Spending will explode. Income tax will be increased, an energy tax will be imposed and eventually a Value Added Tax will be levied. Of course, this fork in the road would be exactly the same if there was no coronavirus. Republicans are the party of tax reduction and (modest) spending restraint. Democrats remain the party of endless tax hikes and endless spending sprees.

Zitelmann: In the United States, socialism used to be a dirty word—and it still is for many older Americans. In contrast, large numbers of younger Americans are committed to “socialism.” So why has anticapitalism become so popular in the United States, especially among younger people?

Norquist: The sad answer is that younger Americans do not know what socialism means. Millennials do not remember the Soviet Union. Or Stalin’s Gulags or the Warsaw Pact. They only know Russia. They could not even tell you what the initials U.S.S.R. stood for, or that Nazi is the abbreviation of National Socialist. Somehow, Bernie Sanders, who is well versed in Soviet history and Cuba’s tradeoff of “literacy” against political prisoners, has explained to younger Americans that “socialism” means Sweden and Denmark.

‘Sanders Had Already Won The Policy Debate’

Zitelmann: Sanders is now out of the race. However, you believe that his ideas have nevertheless prevailed. Why is that?

Norquist: You might think that Bernie Sanders’ withdrawal from the 2020 campaign and the likely victory of Vice President Joe Biden represents a move to the center by the Democrats. Sadly, no. I would argue that Bernie Sanders left the race not because he failed to get enough delegates to win but because he had already won the policy debate. Biden’s threatened tax hikes total $3.4 trillion dollars over a decade. That is three times more than Hillary Clinton threatened. Biden promises to ban fracking, plastic bags (he said plastic, let’s generously assume he meant only plastic bags), expand Medicare with a “public option,” meaning a door through which all Americans could be pushed into a one-size-fits-all, government-controlled health care system, and an energy/carbon tax. What is the difference between Biden and Bernie? They have the same Rolodexes. The same likely White House staffers. The same rhetoric.

Why The Rich Are Being Demonized

Zitelmann: In the Democratic primaries, all of the candidates seemed to be competing to outdo each in terms of their “rich-bashing” rhetoric. Even Michael Bloomberg, himself one of the richest men in the world, was forced to demand higher taxes on the rich before he was forced to withdraw from the race. Where does this hatred of the rich come from?

Norquist: The Democrats need trillions of dollars to buy votes to win the 2020 election. To do that they will require a great deal more money than the $3.8 trillion raised in taxes under the 2019 budget. And they can’t afford to admit that regular voters are the likely target of their new and additional taxes—an energy tax, a Value Added Tax and higher payroll taxes. So Democrat candidates, continuing the strategies adopted by Clinton and Obama, started by demonizing the rich and then promising to tax them—not you, the typical voter. Now, both Clinton and Obama did raise taxes on the middle class—but they talked so much about taxing the rich that even a well-educated voter could be forgiven for thinking that the new taxes were all on the rich. Every new tax voters heard about were announced as targeting the rich (or corporations which, of course, pass on their increased tax burdens to consumers in the form of higher prices and workers in lower wages). The left needs to demonize the rich. It is, after all, their justification for taxing them. Americans do not like the idea of taking money away from someone who earned it.

Zitelmann: A great deal of energy is expended on arguing that the “rich” did not earn their money.

Norquist: Yes, the logic is this: If the rich are only rich because they got lucky, then they never truly earned or deserve their fortunes. This is why Barack Obama told small businessmen in the 2009 campaign, “You did not build that,” when referring to their own small businesses. If you didn’t build it—it isn’t really yours. And, once Democrat logic is accepted, taking it away is not really theft. Nor wrong. Nor immoral. But demonizing the rich has a second advantage for the left. In addition to making it easier to tax the rich and trick voters/taxpayers into thinking they are not the true target of higher taxes, the war on the rich covers up the 50-year failure of the Great Society. The Great Society was launched in 1965 with the promise that the government knew how to help the poor become middle class and self-reliant. Government spending on housing, healthcare and education would instill the poor with middle-class values such as hard work, self-reliance and a willingness to work and save today for a better tomorrow, maintaining a long-term perspective. But the Great Society spent some $14 trillion in giving money to the poor, or more often paying well-paid government employees to “provide services” to the poor, and has little or nothing to show for it in terms of improvements in savings, income, education or work. So rather than admit that they wasted trillions of dollars and concede that they should shut down government job programs that only benefit the Democrat party’s base, the left pivoted to a new problem. Not that the poor are poor, but that there is a large gap between the rich and poor.

This new problem—inequality—can be solved without helping to lift a single poor person out of poverty and into the middle class. One only needs to reduce the wealth and income of the rich. That way we will be more equal. All worse off. But more equal. It is possible for modern Democrats to reduce inequality without doing anything to help poor people or communities. The middle class can suffer while we “reduce inequality.” That they can do. To tax the rich; first undermine their right to keep what they create. Demonize them. To avoid embarrassing questions about the failure of the left’s “war on poverty” you just need to shift the focus to inequality.

‘Immigration Is Our Strongest Competitive Advantage’

Zitelmann: Donald Trump has certainly done some positive things in terms of tax policy and deregulation. At the same time, however, he has increased what was already an extremely high level of national debt and is pursuing protectionist trade policies. I have the impression that Trump has no clear market economy compass. How capitalist is Trump?

Norquist: It’s not clear whether Donald Trump has ever read Hayek. But his tax cuts are straight out of the Ronald Reagan/Art Laffer/Milton Friedman playbook. His de-regulation goes further than all previous presidents combined. His judges will strengthen and repair America’s commitment to the rule of law for a generation. And his unwillingness to be dragged into every stupid idea some European intellectual thought up—windmills, solar to replace real energy that really powers a national economy—has been a godsend. Those who wish to embroil America in every war in every quadrant of the globe have no ally in Trump. Trump knows that war is the enemy of liberty and fiscal prudence. Free trade and immigration are issues where Trump departs from President Reagan and Adam Smith. But as President Trump said before the coronavirus crisis—we are running out of workers in the United States. And the higher wages and jobs growth he delivered reduced the grumpiness of American voters who no longer lash out at immigrants and foreign competitors suspected of stealing their jobs. Trump’s tax cuts, de-regulation, sound legal system and respect for property rights delivered growth to America before the virus and will return when the virus is behind us. Trump’s growth silenced the concerns that drive protectionism and tariffs and stoke fears of immigration. Yes, the wall will be built. America will gain control of its borders, but it will maintain large and open doors. Immigration is our strongest competitive advantage over China, Japan, Russia and most of the world. And yes, our trade agreements need to ensure that our intellectual property is not stolen and reduce the ability of governments anywhere to subsidize trade and disadvantage foreign competition.

Zitelmann: What are your thoughts on the Fed’s low interest rate policy? What does this mean for our market economy system?

Norquist: The danger of near-zero federal interest rates is that borrowing money is seen as “almost” free. The deficit is not the problem. Overspending is the problem. The deadweight cost of government is total spending. The deficit is one element of the problem—like the visible part of an iceberg. But it is the larger, hidden mass of the iceberg below the water line that ripped the Titanic apart. If deficit spending is held down, and taxes are not raised, then there is a limit on spending. That is good. But if deficit spending is “free” or “inexpensive” because interest rates (today) are low, then public opposition to more and more government spending is reduced and government spending will be allowed to increase and weaken the economy.

#republicans #grover norquist #subhuman #american politics #forbes #class warfare #class war #2020 presidential election #bernie sanders #bourgeoisie #bourgeois ideology #ideology #ideoloji #ideologia

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sweetdejun · 5 years

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coterie: the shot glass (2/2)

gang!x1 x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re an ordinary girl, with an ordinary life. but what happens when you catch the gang that is famous for keeping their deeds under the table, in action?

coterie’s masterlist can be found here

pairing: song hyungjun and y/n

a/n: a hint of alcohol, cursing and violence, so proceed with caution. THIS ONE’S A LONG ONE.

hyungjun lumbered back towards his room. the image of the way you attentively listened to his instructions was implanted in his head. hell, every time he blinked that’s what he saw. the erratic beating of his heart frightened him, to say the least, and he was part of a gang. whatever, he thinks, it’s nothing. he opens the door to his room and checks the time. it is far too early to go out and party and far too late to get dressed for one, so he decides maybe he’ll attempt to get in a good night’s sleep. he hasn’t done so in forever, he feels, and immediately relaxes into the sheets as he throws himself onto his bed. it doesn’t take long for him to groggily blink up at the ceiling, the image of the pure beige plaster begins to darken, then it becomes dark as night. someone who lived normally like anyone else; with a family and friends and surrounded by an environment where people loved him and he loved them back. that was hyungjun a mere four years ago. everything was great and he couldn’t have been more grateful. one day, he was on his way back from school and was imagining his mother opening the door for him with a wide smile and a big hug, and his sister would ruffle his hair before she’d leave to the nearby cafe to study and within a few hours, his dad would be home, too, and they’d all come together as a family for dinner. that’s how it was every night. he came home that day to find his mother, his father, and his sister dead, their bodies limp on the ground surrounded by pools of blood. the state of shock captured him so bad that he wasn’t able to cry or anything. hyungjun’s eyes shot open and he sat up swiftly on his bed, heavily breathing. he looked over at the green numbers lighting up his alarm clock and it read 4:39 a.m. memories of that night still haunt him to this day.

he remembers what was going through his head that day. what happened? a thousand questions seemed to ring in his head, and then he heard a knock on the door. terrified, hyungjun grabbed the first thing in sight that could work as a defense weapon and carefully opened the door, to reveal his neighbor, seungwoo. “may I come in?” hyungjun was reluctant, and seungwoo picked up on this and told him, “I’ll tell you what happened.” and one thing led to another, and hyungjun learned that a gang called the fangs allowed hyungjun’s father to borrow some money but didn’t tell him about interest. when hyungjun’s father returned the money that he originally borrowed, they grew furious and threatened to kill him and his family. when he asked seungwoo how he knew this, seungwoo told him that the fangs were a rival gang. seungwoo asked hyungjun to join his team so that he would work towards avenge the death of his family. it didn’t take long for hyungjun to consider his decision. in what seemed like a split of a second, hyungjun joined the gang, and seungwoo gave him the task of being the party boy (seungwoo didn’t want him to be dealing with people explicitly, as it could’ve been sensitive for him in the beginning). this mission, regarding the casino, is extremely important to hyungjun, as the gang that killed his family happened to work for the biggest chaebol in the country. seungwoo told him that they were to get any information regarding the identities of those who may be more informed about the fangs. the first thing hyungjun thought of after hearing about this assignment was you. what was this? suddenly, why did he find himself paying attention to the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke about your friends or the way you smiled at him when he replied to you in sarcastic remarks. he started thinking about how the little things you did, like guiding him through the crowded clubs with a firm grasp around his wrist, and even you making sure he took aspirin after a massive hangover, he looks forward to these events. his heartbeat accelerates and he wants to see you as much as he can. coming to think of it, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this way. ever since his family was killed, he hasn’t felt much emotionally. sure, he gets happy or sad once in a while but this warmth that you’ve kindled in his chest couldn’t be explained by him. so, he decided to ask for some help.

he headed to eunsang’s room, feet dragging slightly because it’s still early as fuck. a few knocks later, he hears faint groaning and footsteps approaching, and then a grouchy “who is it?” follows. “eunsang, it’s me.” he door cracks open to reveal a fraction of a disheveled eunsang, who’s still half-asleep. “what happened that you had to wake me up deadass in the middle of the night? is someone in danger?” “I tell you everything, bro. I need to ask you: am I a happy person? someone who’s content and happy with the way things are in my life?” eunsang rolls his eyes, and deadpans, “if I had the energy, I’d slap you back into your senses, hyungjun. it’s four in the fucking morning. you’re my pal, so I’m saying this nicely, please let me go back to sleep.” without hearing a response, eunsang shut the door and left hyungjun standing there, a huff escaping him, “what an ass.” and so his feet take him back to his room, and he falls on his bed, stomach first, and a pout forms on his lips as he begins to fall asleep yet again. the next three days pass by in a breeze, although you and hyungjun have not seen each other as much as you have before this. you assumed this assignment must’ve had its kinks that needed to be worked out and you let him be. but, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss seeing him. sure, in the beginning, you were apprehensive about opening up to him. but gradually as you spent more time together, naturally you became more comfortable around him. and it wasn’t until these last three days that thoughts began to appear in your head. you would sit back and wonder what his hair would feel like, or are his hands warm, and has he always looked this handsome? you attempted to distract yourself from these thoughts and you went with soonja to a few stores, where you went to look for a dress fit for the evening. once you found the perfect one, you wasted no time purchasing it (soonja stopped you as you were reaching for your wallet, and said that hyungjun insisted that he’d buy it, before passing his card forward to the cashier).

finally, the ‘big night’ was here: you had just finished getting ready and you heard a knock on your door. “miss y/n, are you ready? mr. song is waiting for you.” you grabbed your bag and nodded, before leaving your room and following soonja outside. leaning against a black audi is a sharp-dressed hyungjun, clad in a black suit, white shirt, and a black bow tie. hyungjun looked up at you from his watch and was stuck staring. you were ethereal. a forest green dress adorned your body beautifully, and you paired it with diamonds and nude heels. you had a light layer of makeup on and let your hair sit on your shoulders. hyungjun could’ve sworn he felt his heart beating out of his chest as you walked down the stairs, approaching him slowly. “close your mouth, buddy, or a fly will go in.” you teased and hyungjun blinked back. “you look...wow.” a light blush tinted your face and you shyly looked away. “thanks. you clean up well, too, song.” you patted his shoulder, and went to sit in the car, hyungjun’s eyes on your every move. he sat in the car and began driving to the casino. once again, you went over the plan: you two were to separate and give off the look that you were both attendees. hyungjun informed you of the people you needed to keep your eye on; the heads of the biggest chaebol, and their families (they’re the ones throwing the party). they held quite a bit of power, so you were determined to get information of any kind tonight. it didn’t take long and before you know it, hyungjun was parking the car. the night started young, you and hyungjun went different directions. you gained a bit of information here and there, and so did hyungjun. he wasn’t far enough to where you were out of his line of vision, so he could keep an eye on you and that certainly did not help him; hyungjun tried not to focus on the way the dress fit the contours of your body nicely, showing off all the right curves in all the right places, or how your lips glistened due to the lip product you had on. he wonders what that texture must feel like, then shakes the thoughts out of his head. what was he doing?

in the midst of this, on the other side of the room where you stood, you mindlessly sipped a tall glass of champagne, with the little information you gained. you only managed to hear some women talking about how a family owed them money, and their kid was in college, and that the kid should’ve studied hard to get scholarship money instead. interrupting these thoughts, a younger man approaches you. he’s got the typical rich boy look, a cocky little smile on his face. the heavy scent of cologne throws you off as he stops in front of you, a glass in one of his hands, and his other one shoved into his pocket. “I haven’t seen you around here before, are you new to town?” you cock your head to the side, and sip on your drink. “not really. I just don’t come around this area too often. I normally don’t have time to go to places like this.” he chuckles and reaches up to scratch his eyebrow. “well, it’s my pleasure to meet you. I’m seo namjun. as in seo industries.” you feigned surprise, and beamed, “wow, the seo industries? how is that?” you pretend to show interest and he doesn’t suspect a thing, and he’s telling you all about the properties they own when his free hand rests on your forearm and moves up along to your shoulder. you shudder at the calloused feeling, and he notices. “I can make you happy, sweetheart. all you need to give me is one night, it’ll be the best night of your life.” and he leans in to try to kiss you. he catches you completely off guard, so much so that you push him back, and his glass slips from his hand and shatters on the ground, shards of glass mix with ice cubes. this seems to trigger something in him, and his eyes snap back to you.

“what are you doing, leave m-” your cut off by namjun’s harsh grip on your face, his large hand roughly squeezes your face between his fingers. your eyes dart around you and it’s unbelievable how no one comes to help you, or even notice what is happening. and those who do, just stand and watch the scene unfold. namjun clenches his jaw and says, “no girl has ever refused me like that. how dare you?!” and his head dives in for a forced kiss. the only thing you can do is attempt to hold your hands out to stop him and you shut your eyes. but you don’t feel anything. in fact, the grip around your face is gone in itself. you do, however, hear a thud and a groan. you open your eyes to see hyungjun standing in front of you, holding you behind him, and namjun is on the ground, his nose bleeding. “if she said no, then it means no.” namjun only seems to get more infuriated by this and gets up, before swinging at hyungjun. one hit after another, both men fight each other. at this point, there’s a crowd that’s formed around the two and they don’t stop until you start pulling hyungjun back and an older man, who you assume is related to namjun starts pulling him back. “stop it namjun! we are in public! do you have any self-respect?” namjun huffs out, and glares at you and hyungjun one last time, before releasing himself from the man’s grip and walking briskly towards the opposite direction. hyungjun takes you by the wrist and through the crowd of people, outside, until you’re by the car.

he unlocks the car and you both quietly sit in the vehicle as he starts his drive back home. the ride back home starts out quiet. the tension is heavy in the air. you start off by apologizing, but he cuts you off. “I should be the one apologizing for putting you in a difficult situation. I shouldn’t have even let you come here tonight, your safety was threatened and I-” you rest your hand over his that rests on the gear stick. you notice the small cuts on them, before you softly say, “it’s okay. he didn’t hurt me, all thanks to you.” a small smile forms on hyungjun’s face and your heartbeat reaches your ears. you two come back home, and walk in the mansion, catching each others’ gaze once more before going towards your respective rooms. it’s been about ten minutes and you’re back in normal clothing, makeup-free and you decide to grab a first-aid kit and head over to hyungjun’s room. he’s just getting out of the shower, freshly dressed. his wounds still aren’t clean enough yet, you think and you have him sit down. opening the small first aid kit, you start by grabbing an antiseptic wipe, muttering “this may sting a little, so bear with me,” before cleaning up the small cut on the corner of his cheekbone and a small slit in his lip. “thank you for being there with me today, I don’t know what would’ve happened. I’m so glad you came before anything could happen.” as you finish talking, you look up to see hyungjun staring at your lips. your silence seems to catch his attention, and he looks back into your eyes. there are small specks of amber in hyungjun’s eyes. they’re pretty. subconsciously, your eyes fall on his lips: plump, pink, kissable. wait, what? hyungjun wastes no time, and surprises you with an arm quickly pulling you flush against him, and he leans in and kisses you. you kiss him back, the faint taste of iron only igniting the fire in you. your hands drop the supplies you were holding and instead fly into his hair. pulling at the chocolate roots elicits a small groan from him, and you’ve decided that this is something you’d never get tired of hearing. after the dire need of oxygen captures both of your attention, you pull back, heavily breathing. a stray hair hangs loose before you and hyungjun moves it away. “I want to tell you something, y/n,” he starts off before telling you how it’s been forever since he had felt like this: happy. “I forgot what it felt like until I met you. after meeting you I began to look forward to the next day, and the day after, and so on. but you also brought along this heart fluttering sensation in me. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t stop thinking of you”, and you giggle, and widely smile, “I like you too, hyungjun. very much.” and you notice him turn red at your comment and have decided that another thing you learn about him is that he can be cute, whether or not he approved of being so. “so, after all of this, would you like to give us a try?” he offers, reaching to hold your hand. and with a smile, you intertwine your fingers and lean in, “why after this, when we can give us a try now?” before you peck him on the cheek and you exit his room, leaving hyungjun a blushing mess. but he’s your mess, and that’s all you can ask for.

a/n: that’s all for hyungjun... now, who do you choose next? maybe hyungjun wasn’t who you expected.. who did you expect then? let me know in the comments!

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the-desolated-quill · 6 years

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Quill’s Swill - The Worst Of 2018

Congratulations dear reader. You survived 2018. And you know what that means. It’s time for another best of/worst of list. Welcome to Quill’s Swill 2018. A giant septic tank for the various shit the entertainment industry produced over the course of the year. The films, games, TV shows and various other media that got on my bad side. As always please bear in mind that this is only my subjective opinion (if you happen to like any of the things on this list, good for you. I’m glad someone did) and that obviously I haven’t seen everything 2018 has to offer for one reason or another. In other words, sorry that Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes Of Grindelwald isn’t on here. I’m sure it is as terrible as some have been suggesting. I just never got around to watching it.

Okay everyone. Grab your breathing masks and put on your rubber gloves. Let’s dive into this shit pile.

Hold The Sunset

The news that John Cleese would be returning to the world of BBC sitcoms was incredibly exciting, being a massive Fawlty Towers fan and all. Unfortunately Hold The Sunset was not quite what I had in mind. It’s one of those rare breed of situation comedies that chooses to offer no actual comedy. It’s not a sitcom. It’s a sit. Like Scrubs or The Big Bang Theory.

An elderly couple plan to elope abroad only for Alison Steadman’s son to barge in, having left his wife, and forcing them to put their plans on hold. Hence the title ‘Hold The Sunset.’ It’s like a cross between As Time Goes By and Sorry, but if all the humour and relatability were surgically removed by a deadpan mortician. The characters are weak, the plots are thin on the ground and the humour (hat little of it there is) feel incredibly dated. The middle aged mummy’s boy is something that hasn’t been funny since the 90s. It’s an utter waste of great talent and what hurts even more is that this tripe is actually getting a second series. I can only assume the people watching this are comatose. Either that or there’s an epidemic of people in Britain who have lost the remote.

Avengers: Infinity War

Yes this is one of the worst movies of 2018 and no I don’t regret saying that one little bit. Avengers: Infinity War was fucking terrible. Period. There were too many plots and characters going on, which made the film hard to follow (and what staggers me is that the so called ‘professional’ critics have condemned movies for having too many characters and plots before. Spider-Man 3, The Amazing Spider-Man 2, Batman vs Superman: Dawn Of Justice and even Deadpool 2. But because this is an MCU movie, it gets a free pass. Fuck off). The characterisation was weak due to sheer number of characters they try to juggle, resulting in characters coming off as one dimensional caricatures of themselves and scenes where characters such as Iron Man, Doctor Strange and Star-Lord sound completely interchangeable. The villain, Thanos, is a stupidly and poorly written villain, but that’s hardly surprising considering what a shit job Marvel have done building him up over the course of these 20+ movies. And let’s not forget that pisstake ending. A bunch of prominent Marvel characters die and it’s all very, very sad... except all these characters just so happen to have sequels planned, which makes this ending fucking pointless and have less impact than a feather on a bouncy castle.

I don’t know which is more shocking. That Marvel and Disney think their audience are that stupid and gullible, or that their audience are actually validating their view. Fuck you Disney.

Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery

I’ve always wanted a Harry Potter RPG, where you could customise your character, choose your house and actually live a full school life at Hogwarts. This year, Warner Bros and Jam City gave us just that.

That was a mistake.

Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery is the epitome of everything that’s wrong with the mobile gaming market right now. The gameplay is boring and involving where you just tap images on a screen until a progress bar fills up. Wizard duels are little more than rock-paper-scissors challenges that require no kind of skill. Bonding with friends and caring for magical creatures just consist of pathetically simple pop quizzes and yet more boring tapping. Oh and of course you only get a certain amount of energy to complete these tedious tasks. If you run out of energy, you wait for it to fill up... or pay up for the privilege. So determined are they to extract your hard earned cash from your wallet, there’s actually a bit where Devil’s Snare strangles your eleven year old avatar and the game effectively tries to guilt trip you into paying micro-transactions to save them. It’s sleazy, gross and manipulative. Honestly, you’re better off just playing Candy Crush.

Agony

When the developers of this game said they wanted to give the player a trip through Hell, they had no idea how true that statement really was. Agony is dreadful on a number of levels. The design for Hell itself, while visually interesting at times, is often not very practical and gets quite dull and repetitive after a while. The stealth mechanics are a joke and the AI of your demonic enemies are pitiful. All of this alone would have been enough to put this game on the list, but then we also have the casual misogyny. Agony is a gorefest trying desperately to shock the player. We see men and woman get tortured, but it’s the women that often get the extreme end. The violence inflicted on them is often sexual in nature and the game seems to go out of its way to degrade and dehumanise women at every turn. The orgasmic cries of ‘pull it out’ quickly become a staple of the game’s experience as we see naked women raped, tortured and murdered, all for the purposes of ‘entertainment.’

I would call Agony sexist, but honestly that would be giving it too much credit. Agony is like a little child trying desperately to be all dark and edgy in a pathetic attempt to impress everyone around him, and we should treat it as such. Go to your room Agony. No ice cream for you.

Peter Rabbit

If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of Beatrix Potter rotating in her grave.

Yes we have yet another live action/CGI hybrid, but instead of something innocuous like the Smurfs or Alvin and the Chipmunks, Sony instead decides to adapt Peter Rabbit, with James Corden in the title role.

It’s about as bad as you’d expect.

Their attempts to modernise the story are painful to say the least with pop culture references, inappropriate adult humour and twerking rabbits. Plus rather than the gentle, but slightly mischievous character we got in the source material, here Peter is a sociopathic delinquent who seems to revel in making the farmer’s life a living hell. He’s unlikable and unwatchable as far as I’m concerned and the film doesn’t in anyway earn the emotional moments it tries so desperately to sell to the audience. And the worst part is it’s getting a sequel.

Wait. Do you hear that sound? That’s the sound of Beatrix Potter tearing out of the ground, ready to kill whatever idiot came up with this shit.

Fallout 76

I was excited for Fallout 76. A MMORPG where players band together to rebuild society after a nuclear apocalypse. Could have been great. Pity it wasn’t.

Fallout 76 is a dreadful game. Not only is it a buggy, glitchy mess that requires a constant online connection to play, which could result in you losing hours of progress if your WiFi went down, it’s also unbelievably tedious, and that’s because there’s nothing to do in the game. There’s no other characters to interact with, the various robots and computers you come across are really little more than quest givers, there’s no actual plot so to speak, and because of the sheer size of the world and the number of players allowed on a server, the chances of you actually meeting any actual players is remote. And let’s not forget all the behind the scenes drama. Bethesda falsely advertising Fallout themed canvas bags and players getting shitty nylon ones. Bethesda accidentally releasing the account information of various players trying to get a refund for said bag. Bethesda failing to program the year 2019 into the game code, meaning that the game’s nukes don’t work.

Maybe there’s a chance that Bethesda could pull a No Man’s Sky and fix everything over the coming years with various patches and DLCs, but the damage has already been done. It’s incredibly disappointing. The Elder Scrolls 6 is going to have be fucking incredible to win everyone back.

Mama Mia!: Here We Go Again

I can’t stand jukebox musicals anyway, but Mamma Mia was always one of the worst. Its boring, meandering story with its one note, obnoxious cast of characters screeching out ABBA songs like they’re at some drunken karaoke session at some poor sod’s hen party has always grated on my nerves. So imagine my delight when they announced we were getting a sequel. Ever wondered how Meryl Streep met her three lovers and founded her hotel? No? Well tough shit, we’re going to tell you anyway.

Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again is basically just Mamma Mia again. The actors still can’t sing, the characters are still annoying and story is still boring and meandering, completely at the mercy of the chosen songs rather than the filmmakers using the songs to compliment the story (you know? Like proper musicals do?).

How can I resist you? Very easily as it turns out. Gimme, gimme, gimme a fucking gun so I can end my misery.

The Cloverfield Paradox

A lot of people were unhappy about the direction Cloverfield was going. They wanted a continuation of the found footage, kaiju movie from 2008, not an anthology series. I was personally all in favour. Partially because I thought the first Cloverfield was a tad overrated, but mostly because I thought it would be a great opportunity for more experimental film projects and could be a great launchpad for new writers and filmmakers. 10 Cloverfield Lane was a great start. Then The Cloverfield Paradox happened.

The Cloverfield Paradox is basically JJ Abrams trying to have his cake and eat it too. Maintaining the anthology format whilst connecting everything together in a ‘shared universe’ (yes, yet another shared universe). The result was a cliched, poorly edited and idiotic mess of a film that actually took away from the previous two films rather than added to them. Everyone hated it and, as a result, 2018′s Overlord, which was totes going to be part of the Cloververse, was made its own standalone film and Abrams double pinky promised to make a true sequel to the original Cloverfield. A complete and total disaster. No wonder it was a straight-to-Netflix film.

The Handmaid’s Tale - Season 2

This is probably going to be the most controversial entry on the list, but please hear me out because I’m not the only one who has a problem with this season.

I was reluctant to watch The Handmaid’s Tale simply because of how gruesome the original book was, but I forced myself to watch the first season and I thought it was pretty good. It remained faithful to the source material for the most part and included some nice additions that helped to expand the story and mythos. If it was just a one off mini-series, everything would have been fine. But then they made the same mistake as The Man In The High Castle and Under The Dome did where they commissioned another season and attempted to tell a story that goes beyond the book.

There’s a reason why the original story ended where it did. The Handmaid’s Tale isn’t meant to be an empowering story about women sticking it to the patriarchy. It’s a cautionary tale about how fragile our civil rights truly are and how easily they can be taken away from us. It’s designed to shock, not to satisfy. So seeing a handmaid blow herself up in a suicide bombing feels very incongruous and just a little bit silly. It would be like doing a TV adaptation of George Orwell’s 1984 where the first season followed the source material and then the second season turned Winston Smith into this heroic freedom fighter trying to overthrow Big Brother. It would represent a fundamental misunderstanding of what the book was about in the first place.

And then of course there’s the increased level of violence in Season 2, which many have complained about. In Season 1 and the original source material, the violence was justified. In Season 2, the motivation behind the violence has gone from ‘how can we effectively demonstrate how easily a fascist patriarchy can happen in the West?’ to ‘what brutal act can we inflict upon Ofglen to shock the audience this week?’ It’s purely for shock and nothing more. And with the showrunner (who I feel I should mention is a man) announcing that he has planned ten seasons of this, it seems that The Handmaid’s Tale is going to go even further with this depravity until it effectively becomes the equivalent of a Saw film.

The Handmaid’s Tale exists as a way of shining light on and critiquing misogyny in its most extreme form. Season 2 however demonstrates that there is a serious risk of it becoming the very thing it’s criticising in the first place.

The Predator

I love the Predator franchise, but The Predator is the worst.

People thought that this would be good because director Shane Black had actually starred in the first Predator movie back in 1987. Instead we got this bloated, confusing, obnoxious and insulting mess of a film that seems to go out of its way to ruin everything that makes Predator so good. There’s no tension. No suspense. No intrigue. Just a bunch of gore, explosions and shitty one liners from annoying and lifeless characters. They essentially took this big alien game hunter from outer space and turned him into a generic monster from a bad summer blockbuster. It no longer hunts for sport. It wants to take over the world and splice our DNA with theirs. But don’t worry, a rogue Predator doesn’t want to kill humans (even though he himself kills a bunch of humans), so he gives us a Predator Iron Man suit to set up a sequel that will probably never happen because this movie was a box office bomb and it fucking SUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKEEEEEDDDD!!!

This film also has a very nasty streak towards those with disabilities. There’s a lot of jokes at the expense of a character with Tourette’s and it has an extremely ignorant and patronising view of autism, portraying the main character’s kid as being a super genius who can decipher the Predator language and even going so far as to say that he represents ‘the next stage of human evolution.’ Presumably the Predators want social communication difficulties because apparently it helps them hunt somehow.

What with Disney acquiring 20th Century Fox, the future of both the Alien and Predator franchises were very much in question. This film needed to be a success in order to make a case for Disney to keep making more of them. It wasn’t. Congratulations Shane Black. You might have just killed off this franchise for good. Thanks arsehole! :D

So those were my least favourite stories from 2018. Join me on Wednesday where we shall discuss something more positive. Yes, it’s awards season. Who shall win the coveted Quill Seal Of Approval? Watch this space...

Or don’t. It’s up to you. I don’t want to force you or anything. It’s a free country.

#quill's swill #quill's swill 2018 #worst of the year #review #opinion

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dicecast · 6 years

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Rethinking of Star Wars: The Character of Darth Vader

In addition to being the most Iconic character in the whole series, Vader is kind of the emotional core of the movie, despite his being the villain and the antagonist. When I talk about the original Star Wars being really weird, this is what I mean, who is the emotional core of these films? You might say its Luke, but the movie is kinda weirdly distant from Luke, we don’t really delve that deeply into his head, the film seems a lot more excited to talk about Han Solo and Leia. So are they the emotional core? Well no, because in the third movie they just kinda stop doing stuff after awhile. Is it the droids? We are with them throughout the earliest bits of the movie, and their perspective seems to dominate about 50% of a New Hope, but not so much the other movies. These movies don’t really have an emotional core the way that the first Matrix movie does, or Pirates of the Caribbean do, its more of a spectacle. Because while these stories are a heroes journey, they are a really distant one (more on that later.

(There are emotional moments but not emotional themes)

The exception to this is Vader, who is a constant presence in all three movies, and in fact it is his decision which decides the final conflict. Rewatch his scenes in the triology, and emotionally the camera is with Vader (except being his first confrontation with Luke), when he chokes the guy mocking his religion, that guy is presented as annoying and you get the anger in the scene. When he is frustrated and obsessive in the second movie, the movie seems to display it, like the scene where the falcon gets away or when he is in his little life pod. The emotional high point of the third movie is Vader’s core. Now I’m not saying this is particularly well done, or even deliberately experimental, only that it’s kinda weird considering how this movie is basically the king of main stream.

(pictured, emotions)

Vader is also the greatest failings of the prequal series, because Anakin from the original doesn’t resemble Vader at all. And I don’t mean “oh Anakin is whiney he isn’t dignified” I mean the emotional logic of Vader’s actions doesn’t synth with the prequals.

(this is more movement that Vader uses than like the entire original trilogy)

See it’s a fallacy to assume that the only way you can devolve a character is by showing their back story (YOU HEAR THAT MARVEL). In that blessed glorious time in the golden days before the prequals existed (aka my elementary school), you could look at Vader and try to imagine what made him into this monster. Because Vader is remarkably well characterized, most of that credit going to his actors, and it is mostly done just through little things, namely his movements. Vader is heavy, he is slow, he is ponderous, all of his movements just feel like this evil glacier in human form is stalking around a space ship*. And this slowness isn’t combined with carefulness or even elegance, Vader feels heavy and brutish, walking straight into reality and just expecting it to get out of his fucking way. All of this movement direction are tied to two core emotions. Anger, and exhaustion.

(guess I will move my arm now)

So I already talked about Vader’s relationship to anger earlier, but summing myself up. There are many different approaches to anger, and Vader’s is not explosive like in the prequels, Vad’ers anger is like a dull constantly burning ember, he is just kinda quitely pissed off all the time, basically moving via his constant hate. But that doesn’t make him a passionately anger fellow, its burnout, he just occasionally snaps when his overwhelming frustration with everyone around him just kinda makes him at somebody not following the rules. Its not explosive rage, nor a cold rage, it’s a constant low boiling frustration that has so consumed Vader that he only keeps going out of spite. I could never picture Vader explosively slaughtering a whole village of people or even dramatically screaming at his mentor, I can see him just making a frustrated scoff and killing everybody in the area out of contempt because they wasted his time.

(Not ever bothering with villain banter, fuck off)

The other emotion that defines Vader is exhaustion, especially in the first movie, because is so fucking zoned out in that first movie. Literally every single interaction he has in that movie except for his duel with Obi One is curt, brusque and dismissive, Leia is like “I defy you” and Vader is like “Yeah what ever, I don’t care move on”. He stands in Tarkin’s meeting room like an extra prop, he feels so superfluous and barely interacts or move until somebody insults his religion, and even then he is like “oh well I guess I’ll hurt you”. He is zonked out, and if you think about it, it makes sense. Vader’s reason for joining the Empire and embracing the Dark Side aren’t clear in the original, but presumably he came out of some sense of believing in something, even if that thing wasn’t good. Well after decades of atrocities and murdering most of his former friends, Vader has won, the empire is in control and he reigns supreme…and he still isn’t happy. He is this massive badass and is just...doing his job because its what he does.

Based on how eager he is to turn Luke, my personal headcanon was that Vader wanted to remake the Jedi order in his new fascist empire, but the process of making the empire basically wiped it out, and now he is alone in an empire where his own subordinates say his religion is sad and outdated to his fucking face. Whatever goal Vader went into this for, it clearly hasn’t worked out for him, he is basically on rage field auto pilot.

(phoning it in)

Compare that to how he behaves in the second movie, Vader has so much fucking energy, he is focused on the task at hand, he is talking to people, it really does feel that for the first time in a decade he has found something worthy living for. Which brings up something else, Vader always felt old to me, in fact he is referred to as old a few times, but he also just felt like an old exhausted man. According to the prequals he is basically in his early 40s, which just feels wrong, Vader doesn’t feel like he is having a midlife crisis, he feels like somebody age is catching up to them and they are just sort of realizing how out of place they are. I always pictured Vader in his early to mid-50s, I mean Obi One was 63 when he played Obi One, though you could believe him being a little older, I thought Vader was like ten years younger, and they had more of a peer relationship, that is what it feels like in their duel, two old men who are the last relic of a conflict which ended over a decade ago. Vader’s fall to evil never felt to me like a dramatic sudden break, rather it felt like a slow steady loss of humanity over the course of decades, like John McCain.

(I wrote this before he died, I have very mixed feelings)

And like a man who earnestly held principles to be valuable while betraying all of them simultaneously, Vader never espouses a morality or a philosopher, but he feels like somebody who’s sense of self is founded upon some sense of duty and purpose, even though both have long ago been lost. He earnestly is deeply religious concerning the force, and in the third movie seems largely ok with the Emperor letting him be killed by Luke in order to cause his son to fall to the dark side (First time I wrote that I wrote Dark Souls and suddenly Star Wars became a lot cooler). He feels like somebody who does everything he does due to duty, even though its meaning is long past, so the Dark Souls reference I accidentally made wasn’t actually all that off point.

(an armored man following rules long past their relevance)

Actually seriously now, do you know which character Vader reminds me of more than anybody else. Leo McGarry from The West Wing, I mean imagine if Leo McGarry’s master wasn’t Barlet but somebody vile and destructive who encouraged his own anger and frustration, and imagine if he didn’t have a family or friends who could help him alienate his own pain, and he just comes this manifestation of a system that he enacts without understanding it.

It’s also interesting to me because Vader is such a Kinetic person, I mean the is basically second in command of the Empire and the main enforcer, why is he flying a Tie fighter around personally? Can’t he delegate this shit, doesn’t he have like administration or something to deal with? For somebody who is trapped in a robot suit which doesn’t move very much, he is clearly somebody who likes to move around, when I was really little I never really got that he was a cyborg just in how human his movements seemed to be. I think Darth Vader isn’t somebody who thinks very critically or questions his decisions once his made them, so when all of his life chocies have made him miserable and hollow, he just kinda distracts himself by going to people’s houses and kicking their doors down, cause you know, its active.

(like, why is he doing this, delegate man, your not commander Shepard)

All this combined actually comes together quite nicely at the ending or rather, it is one of the only two character arcs that are complete in Star Wars, Vader changes in each movie. This is not fantastic story telling by any means, but Vader is the most iconic character for a reason, and his emotional arc is kinda more important than Luke for reasons I will get into later (seriously Luke’s story line is really weird). In the first movie, he is totally burned out, just kinda doing the Empire’s will out of inertia, and is so exhausted he basically on auto-pilot. The only three scenes where he seems like he is paying attention is when somebody insults his religion, Obi One shows up, and Luke gives him a hard time in the Death Star Trench. Rest of the time he just phoning it in.

(weeeeee)

In the second movie, Vader seems alive, active, mobile, like he actually has something to care about, and it is also freakily obsessive. I know there is this meme of Vader murdering people at the drop of a hat, but I think that is less Vader and more this particular point in Vader’s life, he doesn’t kill anybody in the first movie, in fact a guy basically feels so confident that he again..insults Vader’s religion to his face. Sure he gets chocked afterwards, but can you imagine anybody doing that in the second movie? Sometime between New Hope and Empire, Vader seems to have figured out who Luke is and now he has purpose, a goal, turn Luke and remade the Jedi order, since Palpetine seems to not to give a shit, so Vader is heading to that, regardless of how many ships he throws away officers he murders. And at the climax of Empire he just…kinda retreats back into his depression, and mopes away. .

youtube

(jump to 10:35, I couldn’t get the whole sequence)

And while Jedi doesn’t focus that much on its main story (more on that later), Vader here seems to be totally conflicted even before Luke shows up. He is surely and unfocused, and basically is letting the Emperor take the wheels, except of course the Emperor doesn’t give a shit. But it isn’t burnout, it’s the realization tht Vader might have to actually you know…consider an alternative possibility. Before the Prequals corrupt our imagination of the past, the impression I had of Vader was a man who set a goal for himself and basically followed it for decades, even though in the process he kinda destroyed the thing he was trying to protect. He is basically a hyper lawful person who isn’t creative enough to consider alternative possibilities, and only now with his family involved, does Vader actually thinking larger thoughts rather than immediate goals. Going back to my thesis that the Force=Emotional Health, then Vader is finally realizing that his way of coping with the world and his emotions isn’t working at all, and he needs to actually choose what he wants.

(wait...I have autonomy?)

And even so, it takes him so fucking long to make up his mind at the end, because Vader is a really clannish type of person, he values his “Group” over everybody else, and picking between his master and his son is a hard choice. And then he dies, movie over. Honestly, Jedi kinda fails, but it has a pretty good arc for Vader, it’s the story about a fascist who questions “why did I become this?” You know that scene from pan’s Labyrinth where Captain Vidal slices his own reflections throat? That is basically Vader character arc in a single scene

#Rethinking star wars #Star Wars #star wars original trilogy #Darth Vader #Anakin Skywalker #The Force #The Dark Side of the Force #Luke Skywalker #Star wars prequels #Fascism #Captain Vidal

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wolfsgravity · 3 years

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I wrote a weird Hurt/Comfort type short fic with my S/I and Howl.

It’s like 2.6k words, which is pretty long for my attention span lmao.

We’re at a household dinner, all of us eating together. At one point when we’re all nearly full, Calcifer makes a simple comment on how long days can seem sometimes. I duck my head, assuming it’s at least in part my fault, and murmur a quiet, “Sorry you’ve got to make up for my magical inadequacies. I know shooting down my dumb magic all day must get tiring.”

While most of the table exchanges looks of pity, Calcifer fire-shrugs with a little smile. “Actually, your magic is hardly ever a problem anymore. You’ve made a lot of progress since we took you in, and I can tell you’ve been working hard by how few pings go out nowadays. Howl’s a great teacher, but you’ve learned fast for a late-bloomer.”

Howl especially notices the beaming smile that grows across my face. How I sit a little taller, like a weight has been lifted. He sees a faint shimmer in my eyes before I rub my face, muttering an “Oh shucks, you don’t need to say all that”. All the while, his heart swells with… pride?

As conversation goes on, Howl is contemplative. His eyes are casual, but he finds his attention drawn back and forth between me and Sophie. He’d only known love as he’s felt it for Sophie, but what he suddenly realizes he feels for me is eerily similar, yet holding its own charm. In a sudden movement, he stands, bringing the chatter to a stop as he silently stalks away.

Calcifer is the first to break the momentary silence. “I haven’t seen Howl storm off like that in a while. But I guess that’s his capriciousness as always.”

But it sticks with me. And Sophie as well.

The difference between Sophie and I is that she’s task-oriented. I tend to wallow. So as she busies herself with cleaning dinner and bustling upstairs to check on Howl, I help as much as she allows before heading off to my own room. As I lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling, those thoughts of being ruinous return, though this is the first time in a few months I could even justify such thoughts. What if Calcifer missed a ping? Have I ruined my own happy home? No. Give it time. Sophie can help him.

Two more days pass, and Howl is physically and emotionally absent. Most time he spends in his own room, coming down for sporadic meals. Calcifer seems to think it’s only a spurious mood, Sophie is busying herself with housework, and the other members of the household go on as usual, perhaps sharing glances when Howl appears as if to say Let’s not ask.

Sophie visits him, getting no real answers from him as to the source of this mood. He’s sweet as always to her, but she sees the gears turning behind his eyes. Finally, during the third night, she decides to get more to the point. She sits next to him on his bed, and as he lays a hand on hers, she simply states,

“You will tell me what’s been on your mind.”

Howl sighs. As if by compulsion, he begins to open up.

“Sophie, I know I’ve been moping, and I do wish I could stop. But..” he pauses, “it’s about Remington.”

“Are you worried about their magic progress?”

“No, no, it’s not that.” He chews the inside of his cheek and looks into one heavily patterned wall of his room. “You know how I love you so deeply, Sophie?”

“Of course, Howl. I’d never doubt that for a second.”

“I’m.. scared. Because, though I love you no less, I think.. I may have fallen for Remington as well. And I don’t wish to send them away, but I may have to.”

Sophie, of all things, laughs quietly.

Howl groans, gripping her hand tighter. “This is a very serious subject, Sophie. I don’t want to lose the life you’ve helped me find through your love and devotion. I just… can’t bring myself to tell Remington to leave.”

“Then don’t.”

Finally, Howl looks at Sophie’s face again, seeing a gentle stare in return. She leans forward and kisses Howl, his shoulders relaxing from the highly tense state they were stuck in.

She leans her forehead against his and smiles easily. “I love you, Howl. You’ve grown so much since I got you your heart back. I appreciate your concern for me, I truly do, and it cements further how confident I am in us. Remington is a lovely person, and I’m happy with them being here however you’d like them. I trust you to never lose your love for me, and I would hope you’d trust the same of me.” Then she grins, “Anyways, maybe having two of us would make you less of a handful.”

Howl blinks owlishly as she speaks, heart racing with two kinds of love in a wonderful dance. Slowly, he smiles and kisses Sophie deeply. “You truly are an angel.”

What they don’t know is that the very apprentice they’re talking about has packed what they could in a heavy backpack. I don’t know of this conversation, all I can think is I somehow ruined everything again, and to save the house I’ve come to love, I must leave. I tiptoe my way to the main exit, not even caring where the door will lead me. I hear a quiet question from the hearth.

“You’re blaming yourself, huh?”

Calcifer looks open but sad. His flame is small, as the house can rest at night, but he’s awake as ever.

“I’m tellin’ ya, he used to have these moods a lot, so I’m sure it’s not you, kid.”

I sigh, the sadness of this whole situation clawing at my throat. “Calcifer, I can’t.. I can’t stay here if there’s a chance I’ll ruin your happy family. Intentionally or not.”

He pauses and, his voice barely audible over the crackle of his own fire, says, “This is more than fear over your magic, isn’t it?”

I don’t answer, eyes threatening to spill over.

“Remington, I wish I could say something comforting right now, I really do. But I’m not blind, your… affection for Howl… can’t work out. And I can’t even say I wish it could.”

I whimper. “It’s pathetic, I know.”

“Not pathetic, but definitely sad. I haven’t had access to his heart since all that stuff went down almost 2 years ago, but when I did.. the way it beat for Sophie was unmatched. I don’t think that would ever change, nor do I want it to.”

“I don’t either,” I admit, tears falling in the dim light, “I love this place so much. I just… don’t want to stupidly ruin that for you guys. So I have to make my own way out there.”

Calcifer sighs, sinking into his embers a little. “I get that logic. Just know you’ll always have a home here with us.”

I hiccup as the reality of my choice washes back over me. I nod. “Thanks, Calcifer. Tell everyone I love them, okay?”

“Sure thing. Stay safe.”

With that, I tread into the darkness.

As the morning rises, so too does the household. Howl, bright and early, whisks down the stairs, in better spirits than the last half a week. Calcifer looks mildly uncomfortable as people gather in the kitchen for breakfast.

“Where’s that apprentice of mine?” Howl muses, sending Sophie a small smile, reinvigorated from their talk the night before. He wanted to get a little bit of magic practice in for them before he broached the topic of his absence with them.

Calcifer shifted amongst his fuel. “Remington, uh.. left.”

The room, despite the fire demon’s presence, runs cold. The ex-witch and the child both dip their heads sadly. Sophie’s face holds shock and fear as she keeps her gaze on Howl, who froze on the spot.

“They…left?”

“Yeah, erm… they were worried about the energy in the house… thought it was their fault. So they left.”

Sophie quietly piped in. “You didn’t try to stop them?”

Calcifer shrinks and squirms under the stares. “I did, but they wouldn’t listen. And I didn’t wanna keep them prisoner by closing the door to them. They did want me to pass on that they love all of us.”

Howl looks at Sophie, a confused and broken look on his face, and she hurries to his side. “Follow them.”

“The castle has moved, I wouldn’t know—“

“They are your apprentice, Howl. They don’t know how to cover their magic’s tracks, if the Witch of the Waste could track you using what little magic hints she had, I’m sure you can find the untrained magician. Go clear up this whole misunderstanding!”

He nods, life slowly coming back to his eyes as he strides to the door for his cloak and hat. The whole house watches in silence as he mutters to himself, a magnifying glass appearing in his hand. “This will help me find the traces of their magic.”

“Good, bring them home, okay?”

“I will.”

The two kiss and he departs.

He finds me after a day and night of searching. I truly wasn’t trying not to be found, but I traveled tirelessly by foot to reach some kind of field filled with grasses that reached hip-height at this time of year. There is a torrential rainstorm overhead, and though there is no thunder nearby, Howl feels a prickly static filling the air. Through the seeing glass, he can see massive swirls of yellow, pink, and purple energy surrounding the figure of his apprentice in the distance.

He tries calling my name a few times as he wades through the wet grass towards me, but my back is towards him and the rain is loud around us. He’s a few yards away when he finally gets my attention, the tension in the air lightening fractionally from my surprise as I turn around.

Howl stops his forward motion once I turn towards him, holding his hands out in gentle supplication. “Come home, sweetheart, let me explain everything when we get out of this storm.”

I wince visibly when he speaks, looking down and away. My voice carries flatly over the sound of the rain. “I figured out what I need to do, so please don’t stop me.”

The wizard tilts his head, taking a step towards me since I’m making no moves towards him. “Whatever you need to do, I promise we can all help.”

With a steely glare, I bite out, “I’m going to make a deal with a demon.”

Almost as though on cue, a distant roll of thunder can be heard. Howl’s face pales. “You— No! Absolutely not!”

I scoff, turning away from him and beginning to walk. “You can’t stop me, Howl.”

The air begins to thicken again, and real fear settles into Howl’s frame. He tries to run to close the distance between us, but finds himself fighting the grass for each step. He manages enough speed to almost get in arm’s reach, but as he reaches out, I yell, “I’m not going to stop, so cut it out!”

His heart drops as, mid-stride, I begin shakily lifting off the ground, breaking into a heightening sprint.

“Remington, please come back down!” He starts his own ascent into the downpour, but I’ve made my upward motion too uneven and unstable for him to keep up with. “Please, you’re not ready for this kind of levitation!”

“I don’t care!” I all but scream, tears starting to mingle with the rain pouring down my face. I stumble mid-air as my emotions nearly overwhelm me, but I keep my mad scramble up towards the clouds.

The wizard panics, feeling very real fear for me. I’m too high to fall safely, and he isn’t sure he could catch me in a pinch. “Remington, come back! Your heart is too important to barter away like I did!”

He hears a harsh laugh, followed by me mumbling, “I don’t fucking want it.”

At least that got me to stop, wobbling high up in the air. He makes his way closer to me as he keeps talking. “I know the idea of control and power for a quick deal is tempting, but you’ve been making such great strides on your own. Look at you! You’re flying so soon! I can’t just let you do something stupid like giving your heart away,”

I look at him, eyes puffy from crying, looking defeated. “I’m already pretty stupid with my heart, but at least this way, I’d be making the choice myself.”

He pauses, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

A sob wracks my body and I falter in the air, Howl shouting in alarm before I right myself and make another step upwards. “It doesn’t matter anymore, so I’ll tell you. I love you, and I hate myself for it.”

“Remington, I love you too, so please come down before you fall and we can go home—“

“I mean it, Howl.” I sniffle, “I love you more than I should. You took me into your home and I fell in love, and I’d rather sell this stupid heart than even imagine ruining your happy home.”

Howl smiles at me, the last expression I expect in the moment. My feet pause mid-step.

“I mean it the same way you do. I don’t know when it started, but I realized it when you were relieved of your worry of being a burden, even if it only lasted a short while because of my tantrum. I love your smile. I love how dedicated to your studies you can be. I love how Markl looks up to you and works that much harder for it. I love the way you toss things from one hand to the other—“

“No you don’t. You said that gives you a heart attack.”

“Because you did it with artifacts, without looking at what your hands were even doing. But you haven’t dropped a single thing doing that, and sometimes I see you looking at your hands afterwards like you’re proud of their dependability. I love seeing you gain confidence in yourself, and it makes me happy when it sticks instead of you devaluing yourself immediately.”

He finally reaches me, his hands cupping both of mine. My magic steadies beneath me at his touch.

“Sophie and I spoke about you, and we both want you to stay. I love you, and I’m so glad to hear you say the same. So let’s get down from here and go back to the castle, okay?”

I sniffle, calm now, but beginning to tire now that all the emotions came out. Slowly, I nod, forcing myself not to look down now that I think about how high up I’ve gotten. The rain lightens as he guides me to the ground, the both of us drenched, but smiling as we glance at each other. He leads us back to the castle, the path suspiciously shorter than it took to get out to the field in the first place.

As we step through the door, Howl calls out for Calcifer to get a bath ready, then looks at me and says, “You go first, I would hate for you to catch cold from all that.”

I silently nod, completely tuckered by now. Howl softly kisses my cheek, causing warmth to bloom where his lips touched my skin. There’s a commotion as everyone comes to greet us, but Howl fields them all as I make my way upstairs, given enough energy to warm myself in the bath. He’s waiting outside my bedroom door as I round the corner to go to bed, a warm smile on his features as he regards me.

“You seem happier now.” He states, making me smile. I give a small ‘Mhmm’, my eyes heavy with sleep. He wraps me in a comfortable embrace, my arms snaking around his back. “We have much to talk about tomorrow, but I wanted to see you before you retired tonight to tell you I love you. Sleep in as long as you’d like, you used a lot of magic today so I’m a little surprised you’re still standing.”

The hug ends naturally, Howl and I smiling at each other. Swiftly, he leans in to sweetly kiss my lips, before he says a ‘Goodnight’ and walks away.

I smile, a dopey look in my eyes, as I tiredly shuffle into my room. I unceremoniously dump myself onto my bed and almost immediately fall asleep.

#ship: burdensome heart

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fly-like-a-grayson · 7 years

Text

New in Town Pt. 4 (Connor Murphy x Reader)

WC: 1,605

A/N: This is probably my favorite part so far. Feedback would be massively appreciated!

Warnings: Language

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The day after, you had the worst headache you could’ve possibly had. You felt like you were going to explode. Every sound was too loud, every light was too bright. All you wanted was to lay on your bed and forget the rest of the world exists. But, you weren’t allowed to do that, because your mom burst into your room at 10 AM yelling about some work lunch.

“Y/N! Get up!”, she yelled while pulling your blanket off your body.

You groaned, “Why?”

“We have a work picnic to go to. I thought you were staying at Alana’s but since you’re here, you’ll have to go with us,” she explained. She then raided your closet to find something she assumed was acceptable for the event. When she found something that pleased her, she threw it on your head. “Get up! We’re leaving in an hour,” then she slammed your door shut.

It took you another 10 minutes to actually get out of bed and get changed. You were happy she picked out a nice shirt and some capris. You were going to die if she picked out a dress, you felt too icky for that. You took a shower before Alana picked you up, so you just put some dry shampoo in and dealt with your hair. You knew you had to look at least presentable. You parents cared very much for social acceptance, so you assumed that’s where you got that trait from. You sat at your vanity for a solid five minutes, debating whether or not to put on makeup. You didn’t have the energy to, but you looked like a zombie without it. You knew you didn’t have anyone to impress, so you opted for no makeup at all. You brushed your hair one last time and went downstairs to greet your family.

When you got there, your family was waiting for you. Your dad smiled at you, “You sleep well, Aurora?”

“Oh, shut it. You’ve been watching too many Disney movies with Lacey,” you mom playfully scolded.

Your little sister, Lacey, giggled, “There’s no such thing, Mommy.”

You smiled and grabbed a meal bar from the pantry, “We leaving or what?” You mom nodded and tried to corral all 5 of your siblings into your SUV. You made sure to get in quickly so you wouldn’t be stuck in-between the little kids. It was chaos, but a chaos you were used to. You were also used to no silence. That was no different on this car ride to the park where the picnic was being held.

It seemed like everyone had something to say, which was not helping your hangover. Luckily, your older brother, Grant, had some aspirin and w water bottle for you. He also didn’t tell your parents that you came home drunk last night. You were so goddamn happy he didn’t.

When you pulled up to the park, 3 of the kids rushed to the swing set and you and the other 2 siblings walked with your parents to where the company was set up. There was probably every type of sandwich and version of lemonade available. There was also no shortage of people around you.

“Hey, Y/N, isn’t that the kid who dropped you off last night?”, Grant whispered to you and pointing at something or someone.

You followed his finger and saw Connor Murphy sitting on a bench under the shade of a tree while drinking a lemonade. “Well, I’ll be darned. That is him. One of his parents must work for the same company as mom and dad,” you said with a small smile, “I’m going to go talk to him.”

Then you waltzed over to him and sat down on the wooden bench, “You’re going to die.”

“What?”

You wanted to die because you already screwed this up. “I meant like of heat because you’re wearing all black in the middle of the day in spring. Not like I’m going to kill you. I don’t have the strength to kill you, BUT I WOULDN’T EVEN IF I DID! Although, some people look like they won’t then they do and you’re just left to question people and things-”, you rambled before he cut you off.

“How the hell can you be hungover and still be the most talkative person alive?”, he said.

“I feel like we’re revisiting the point I made when we first met, I don’t know when to be quiet.”, you explained.

He looked up at you, “That was a rhetorical question.”

You let out a quiet oh and fiddled with the bottom of your shirt. You wanted to escape this moment so you ran off to get a lemonade. You let out a sigh when you were at the cooler. You grabbed a strawberry lemonade and sat down in a random chair. You thought you were going to be able to think about something other than that painful social experience, but it just seemed like you weren’t going to be able to.

Zoe walked over to you with a smile and sat next to you. “Hey, how are you feeling?”, she asked.

You took a sip of your drink, “Like the way a slug looks.”

“Is that because of the fact that you were wasted last night, or that painful to watch interaction with Connor?”

You groaned, “Oh god, you saw that?”

“And heard it, sadly.”, she said with a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry you had to hear it. I don’t have good people skills,” you said with an awkward smile.

Zoe smiled, “Well, you can talk to me, Alana, and Jared just fine. It only seems to be Connor you’re flustered around. And not just around, even when people mention him.”

You looked down, ‘Yeah, I guess. I think I just want to be friends with him so badly.”

“Sure, friends,” she said with a teasing look.

“If I liked him, I think I would know. Plus, I don’t even know him well enough to like him like that.”, you tried to reason with her.

She put her hands up in defeat, “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you alone about it, for now.” She stood up and walked away to talk to some other people she knew.

You sat alone, drinking your lemonade with Zoe’s thoughts echoing in your mind. Did you like Connor? No, you couldn’t. Your points were correct. You didn’t know him at all! You can’t like someone you don’t know.

You mom sat next to you, “Hey, sweetie.”

You looked up at her, “Hey, Mom.”

“Why are you sitting all alone? There has to be someone here you would like to talk to.”, she said.

You lied to her, “No, there really isn’t. I mean Zoe Murphy is alright, but I just don’t know her very well.”

“Well, I talked to her mom, Cynthia, and she told me about her boy, Connor. You might talk to him. You’re friendly and from what Cynthia says Connor doesn’t have many friends. I think it would be good for you to talk to him,” she suggested.

Damn it, now you don’t have an excuse to talk to Connor. You wearily smiled at your mom, “Okay. I’ll go talk to him.”

She smiled back, “Thank you, dear. He’s sitting on that bench over there.”

You stood up from your seat and made your way to him, again.

“What are you doing over here, again?”, he asked when you sat down next to him.

“As fate would have it, I was instructed to sit and talk to you because your mom said you had no friends.”, you explained.

He scoffed, “Did she not see us talking earlier?”

“I guess not, and that wasn’t really us talking.”

“Oh, you’re right. It was just you rambling on about shit.”

You felt a pang of hurt at what he said, “Hey! I’m sorry I was trying to talk to you!”

He went back to being quiet.

You were now frustrated. All you wanted to do was have a nice two sided conversation with Connor. “You know, a normal person would have said ‘I’m sorry’ right about now,” you pointed out.

“Good thing I’m not normal or a person for apologies.”, he sassed back at you.

You crossed your arms out of anger. You assume you felt angry, but to be honest you felt a little sad. You just wanted him to like you, BUT AS A FRIEND, OF COURSE, NO ROMANCE HERE.

You heard Connor mumble something, but couldn’t tell what he said. “Pardon?”

He harshly spoke, “I said I was sorry, Jesus Christ. Get your ears cleaned or something.”

You felt yourself smile, “It’s alright.”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t mind you talking. Only because I don’t like to talk to people. It’s okay for you to like ramble and shit.”, he said while scratching his neck.

You let out a soft laugh, “Okay.”

Then for the rest of the picnic, you rambled about whatever came to your mind. You talked about your family, your old school, you repeated your stance of unicycle rights. You weren’t even sure if he was listening to you. You just knew that he would nod and sometimes ask questions.

On the car ride home, you didn’t mind the loud noises from your siblings. You didn’t care that the radio played crappy pop music. All you cared about was that you had spent time with Connor and it wasn’t awkward or anything. You felt comfortable and you could tell he felt the same. You really liked spending time with him. You really liked him.

Shit, you liked him.

#connor murphy #connor murphy imagine #connor murphy x reader #connor murphy drabble #connor murphy headcanon #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist imagine #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen imagine #dear evan hansen x reader #dear evan hansen headcanons #dear evan hansen hc #deh hcs #deh x reader #deh headcanons #deh imagine #deh

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omegatheunknown · 5 years

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...In which I thoroughly (yet naively) survey Metallica.

More than a month ago I finished reading Masters of Doom, which in addition to being an interesting history of PC Gaming’s pioneering id Software and stirring nostalgia about the halcyon days of 90s first-person shooters, made frequent and compelling reference to the influence of heavy metal on the aesthetic sensibilities of John Romero (though he’s ultimately more of a Dokken fan, which I can’t speak to.) Listening to the actual soundtracks of Doom, Doom II, Quake, Duke Nukem 3D led me straight into a curious survey of Megadeth, then Metallica, briefly Slayer, Anthrax, back to Metallica, Exodus, Sepultura, Suicidal Tendencies, Overkill, back to Megadeth and then back Metallica, over and over Metallica. I am listening to Metallica now.

Can’t say I’m sure why. Without meaning to sound condescending, I’d always assumed if thrash metal appealed to me, it might have happened when I was a teenager. Perhaps environmental factors were at play, but at my most susceptible and angst filled years, the garage rock revival was in full swing, as was something of a (perceived? I will never know if this was a widespread thing. I wasn’t nearly as online then) grunge renaissance. Grunge was locked in as tonal and aesthetic sensibility and my friends’ bands were grungy pop punk with a bit of emo sprinkled on top. As I said, the questionable excesses of youth, complete with pretension about what is good (The Stooges, The Pixies, The Strokes and NIRVANA) and what is silly and ridiculous (Nu-Metal’s relative strength and the silliness of bands like Korn and Slipknot did not help Metal’s esteem.) A respect but low level of enthusiasm for Deep Purple, Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden didn’t manifest anything serious any time in the last fifteen years. Thrash’s underground roots put some doubt in the mind re: whatever vague supposition my teenaged peers and I had about the opposing forces of punk and metal (though I do remember actual arguments with a fan of what I described as ornate but soulless arpeggios who thought PJ Harvey’s oeuvre was unsophisticated and boring.) There’s a lot of grunge’s DNA in early Metallica. Which kind of makes it all the more bewildering that I haven’t been here before. All that wasted time listening to Mudhoney! Also, not to spoil the ending, how bewildering it is that Metallica absolutely fell to pieces in the 90s. Kill ‘em All is a stupidly exciting record. Had I been around to hear it in the 80s, it would’ve melted my brain. I assume if I heard it in the 00s it would’ve done the same. I think part of the issue with Metallica is that when I was a precocious kid/tween they were not nearly at their best and the only second hand exposure you get to a well-established but no longer thriving band is their hits, and even post-survey I don’t particularly care for ‘One’ or ‘Enter Sandman.’ (Then again, at the height of Metallica v Napster you’d think young Zaq would’ve been a little more curious... and those mp3s would’ve be right there...) Anyway, Kill ‘em All: devastating and fun. Imagine if Mötley Crüe was ever any good (were they?) No, that’s insane. And gives a person very little to go on. High energy from the jump, utter shred. Reminiscent only of a slower, hopelessly outclassed version of the same thing, which is to say I think if you slowed a track like The Four Horsemen down you’d end up with a dreary sounding Sabbath number but why would you want that? (A different day perhaps.) Definitely the sexiest of the Metallica albums, just a little bit of the electricity of hair metal bleeding in at the edges, though the most wicked excesses are in flurries of virtuosity. “Bass solo, take one” -- much as I enjoy ‘Hit the Lights,’ ‘Jump in the Fire,’ ‘Seek & Destroy’ (and other imperative calls to action,) I think the bass solo ‘(Pulling Teeth)’ that splits the album is my favourite bit. Ride the Lightning -- actually, speaking of Cliff Burton, he of the improbable bass solos -- supposedly he planted the seeds of music theory/actually thinking about the music in his bandmates’ heads, leading to acoustic guitars, curious instrumentals and harmonies winding their way into the sophomore album. This probably also led them to getting way ahead of themselves and veering out of their lane, but in the meantime, Ride the Lightning is a lot more varied to listen to than their debut. Yes, it continues to wail, but it wails in new and exciting ways. ‘Creeping Death’ and ‘Trapped Under Ice’ are the choicest tracks. ‘Fade to Black’ is a pretty good song by the standards of a power ballad and is a nice dimension to add to the album but I’d point out that it portends Metallica’s inevitable doom. Master of Puppets is considered (nearly anywhere I’ve looked) the undisputed champion of thrash metal albums. I would kinda love to have a dissenting opinion here, but it feels impossible to deny. It is stunningly heavy and loud and kinetic. It’s definitely a twin to its predecessor, they share a layout, right up to track 4 being a power ballad. As a set they’re the Pokemon Red/Blue of Thrash. Anything other than the subtle evolution in the playing and production would’ve been weird as hell -- album number three and they nearly perfect the genre. On the subject of Metallica’s power ballads, I’d make the point that ‘Welcome Home (Sanitarium)’ is the pinnacle of their efforts -- gorgeous and grotesque in equal measure. And like Ride the Lightning follows ‘Fade to Black’ with an extra-heavy track, ‘Sanitarium’ is followed by the vicious gatling gun of ‘Disposable Heroes,’ as emphatic an anti-war song as one could imagine. Again special mention to a Cliff Burton feature -- ‘Orion’ is an oddity in the Metallica canon, can’t imagine there’s anything else like it that I’ve missed. It’s the most appropriate space marine soundtrack I’ve ever heard, it previews a much nerdier version of Metallica that starts writing about horrors from outer space. My impression is that long after I’ve moved on to another passing phase I’ll retain a fondness for their instrumentals, all five of the main ones are excellent. ...And Justice for All just isn’t as good as the previous two. This is becoming less about Metallica and more a tribute to Cliff Burton, but fact is -- his phenomenal bass lines are the secret sauce, and in the absence of Burton (and apparently due to Ulrich’s hearing loss?) the bass is often lost in the mix. It still wails, though relying more on arpeggios and prog-y tempo changes and layered arrangements -- with ‘loud’ as the governing principle in the mix, the instruments all have a bit of a unnatural synthetic quality, the effect is much more processed than the earlier albums and it occasionally sounds like a flat wall of sound... which is about to become a theme, oh boy. Though it does convincingly sound like a mutant off-shoot of the Ride the Lightning/Master of Puppets aesthetic, just a shaggier and excessive cousin prone to wild mood swings. Seven of the nine tracks are at least six and a half minutes long. At 9:48, ‘To Live is to Die’ is the first song in the catalogue that I would consider straight tedious (Though the title track is about the same length and it’s quite good!) At the end of the album, ‘Dyers Eve’ appears as a great redeemer, probably the best expression of what they were trying to do here. Oh yeah -- ‘One.’ Honestly it gets there. It’s a very pretty song. I think what I don’t like about the ballads is Hetfield’s voice when he’s singing (as opposed to when he’s growling, yelling, barking) may as well be someone trying to do a Brad Roberts impression. Though maybe that’s not the issue, I always enjoy The Crash Test Dummies. Metallica/Black Album. I don’t like this. Or, I don’t like it very much but I recognize it’s pretty good. Definitely has its moments (’Of Wolf and Man,’ ‘Through the Never.’) Seems like an odd stumbling block. This was a massive hit. ‘Enter Sandman’ is a classic rock song. Of sorts. It ain’t thrash, though it’s definitely still a heavy metal album in the vein of Black Sabbath and the like. Reading about the composition I understand they were tired of what they had been doing, they felt like impostors and wanted to strip it back some, and in that sense it’s an accomplishment. It’s dark and heavy and somber and pretty sad in parts. I feel like if Metallica had collapsed into the sea and never been found afterward/gone their separate ways this would’ve been an interesting finale, but as it stands, through the lens of history I have to reckon with the fact that this is the first of four albums produced by Bob Rock and it’s easily the best of them. It’s going to get worse before it gets... less worse. Which is not to say I don’t appreciate the orchestra and the cellos and a bit more variation in the compositions but... whither Thrash? ‘Holier Than Thou,’ silly as it is, captures a bit of the lost spirit, Maybe it’s exhausting to be that band for too long. It’s a perfectly natural thing to want to progress and not make the same album over and over again, but I can’t help but feel like they abandoned their perch atop a style where they were the greatest of all time to be (at first) a pretty good metal band and then a ‘hard rock’ band. This is Jordan switching to baseball and then for some reason trying ice hockey. I’m reasonably sure ‘Nothing Else Matters’ sucks pretty viciously, though Metallica writing a love song has a conceptual appeal and I could understand people liking it. Load. Gosh, what an appropriate title. I think if you asked Chad Kroeger what his favourite Metallica album is, he’d absolutely say Load. Metallica skipped over grunge and went straight to post-grunge. It’s also so long! There’s so much of this very mediocre album. Reload. What the fuck is this. It starts off with the Soundgardenesque (well, Rusty Cage-esque) ‘Fuel’ with its fun but asinine chorus, it doesn’t do anything particularly interesting after. Just like its sibling, it’s almost eighty minutes long of sluggish, middle of the road 90s rock. Garage, Inc is amazing by comparison to anything else put out by Metallica in the 90s. Two discs, the second compiling covers from as far back as 1984, 1987′s Garage Days EP and the b-side to some awful Load song that’s just four Mötörhead covers. ‘Whiskey in the Jar,’ of course, but also ‘Am I Evil?’ Sabbath’s ‘Sabbra Cadabra’ and an exuberant cover of Queen’s ‘Stone Cold Crazy.’ It’s not solid gold but there’s a lot of stuff to like. S&M (Symphony and Metallica, but... you know.) Definitely has it moments, particularly with the older stuff -- ‘Call of Ktulu,’ ‘Master of Puppets,’ ‘The Thing That Should Never Be’ with symphonic accompaniment is very cool. St. Anger is the big ‘comeback’ album that came out when I was 15 and thus acutely aware of big music releases. I feel like I could’ve skipped the opening paragraphs of this essay and just written that as explanation of why I didn’t care about Metallica. I’m sure there was some good heavy metal happening around the turn of the century but at the time this was happening, Limp Bizkit, Saliva, Staind, Kid Rock, Godsmack, Sevendust, Slipknot, Drowning Pool, Korn, Trapt and Linkin Park (probably the best of the bunch? right?) were the biggest things in metal. Hence, in 2003 we are gifted... Nu Metallica. The title track is very bad. There are no guitar solos to be found. There aren’t any ballads to be found (that’s mostly fine.) I’ve done three tracks. I’m not listening to the rest of this. It’s just not worth it. Death Magnetic was a big surprise as a I soldiered on. Bob Rock is gone, Rick Rubin is in. Say what you will about Rubin (another time, perhaps) but for whatever reason, after a twenty year hiatus (1988-2008,) the thrash is back. I was beginning to grapple with the idea that Metallica had been past their prime my entire life, and while that’s still probably true, here they are at least dabbling with the style that made them such a big damned deal. Which is not to say this is an amazing album. It’s good though! But you can hear, even on the opening track, how exceedingly compressed the sound is. Everything is loud on this album! Without exception! All the time! It’s all peak! Consequently it’s a tiring thing to listen to all the way through. Apparently there are different versions available that turn down the mix a bit, but the Spotify version is evidently the original, as it is just a brutal onslaught of noise. It’s not a great album to sit through, but individual tracks are welcome. There’s even an instrumental for the first time since ...And Justice For All. Lulu (with Lou Reed) -- Laugh all you want, I don’t think this is as bad as Load and Reload. It’s really god damned weird, sure, and it’s not ‘good’ by any conception of (what is ‘the good,’ etc) but it’s at least interesting here and there. Hardwired... to Self-Destruct suggests a certain inevitability to the path. With or without the play-acting in the 90s (Hetfield has speculated that Ulrich and Hammett were interested in being a U2-sized band complete with the frivolous and monolithic pretensions) they might have ended up here anyway, a bunch of dudes in their 50s making a heavy metal record that is doomed to be nowhere near as vital and electrifying as the groundbreaking stuff of their youth, but is practiced, professional and what the fans have come to expect. It’s pretty good, but there’s no chance it’s their best work. Read a review that called it their best work in 25 years, which is... damning with faint praise, but definitely true. Anyway they’re in the zone. ‘Moth Into Flame’ is a pretty good example of what we’re dealing with here -- thesis, antithesis, synthesis, in this case, arriving at ‘generic Metallica.’ If there’s more Metallica on the way it’ll be pretty much like this, chugging along like Springsteen or the Rolling Stones. It seems super unlikely they’ll ever surpass their first five albums, but I think that’s true of just about every band ever. In conclusion, I’m not doing this same process for Megadeth. :P

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themathrockblog · 7 years

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MEDITATIONS ON TALL SHIPS

An Ode to Math Rock Ancestry and an Indie Pop Hereafter

For many a young person drifting hopelessly through those angst-stricken teenage years, music is the greatest comfort. Guiding lyrics sang in heartfelt tones can sooth in times of trouble, elevating an unassuming frontman into a sage of the stage. Reminiscing to oneself about having witnessed passionate performances from gigs past can bring about a warm nostalgia. In music scenes underground and with bands underloved, this is often accompanied by a feeling of privilege for having been one of the 30 or something strong audience, marooned inside a dingy venue taking shared solace in the evening’s escape. The pure release in the intimacy of these moments sets aside any lingering awkwardness of being in a room that everyone wishes was less empty. Nervous bands feel all-the-more appreciated, deservedly, as those hearty singalongs and well-timed nods prove the audience’s attentiveness and familiarity with the music.

Having seen them a dozen or so times in the past 8 years, Tall Ships embody these experiences like no other band. Ric Phethean intonates profound mantras with a sheepish innocence, an uncertainty that belies his impact in the room. Lyrics explore both the introspective and the exultant whilst instruments march along in tandem; the pensive plods along the keyboard in Vessels or Ode to Ancestors flow flawlessly into the pent-up energy of Hit the Floor or Plate Tectonics. I remember with limpid clarity the moment I heard ‘Oscar’ for the first time. On a tour preceding the release of Everything Touching, new tunes were working their way into the set. Out of an enchanting glut of songs filled with familiar sing-along anthems came a riff I had not heard before, from a band that – on recollection, I realise - were primed to air new material but also nervous about the abreaction they knew they were about to undergo. As the song rose to its crescendo (in that typically-tall-ships manner) I heard for the first time the line ‘I love you more than you know’; a heartfelt refrain pouring from exhausted lungs. Then bassist Matt Parker, crouched and cowering in the ache of the moment, paused and took respite, summoning enough energy to longingly and heart-wrenchingly reach for a lightly crumpled photograph of a loved one, sellotaped to the cabinet of his bass amp. ‘Oscar’ is about familial bonds, friends, ancestry and the joy of the unspoken contracts we assume with the people we love and care for. I’ve no compulsion to know who it was that Matt was paying tribute to so touchingly, to know that they ‘share more than blood’ and that their ‘heartbeat is the most important thing’ to him served to consecrate that moment as one of the most moving I have experienced from live music.

Approaching Tall Ships’ long-awaited second album with this rich personal history behind me was difficult. Having waited an extra month due to pressing problems, the time that had elapsed between the release of Will to Life - first aired back at ArcTanGent in 2015 - and the first full playthrough was nearing two years. How would this new album land, mixing upbeat festival songs by now so familiar with newer, mellower and more mournful offers. Long time collaborator and producer James Field had become a fully-fledged member, reducing the live performance workload of Ric to the benefit of his already engaging performance style. But how might a fourth man wholly focused on the keys in the studio play out on the album? Any nervous anticipation I had was shattered and reconciled about a minute into the album. The opener Road Not Taken is a perfect harbinger of the contrasting styles to come, the split sections encapsulating the yin and yang of the album in one bifurcated song. Once the stripped-down opening has settled in, and whispered vocals and synths have passed, the band punch in with full percussion and guitar, giving a satisfying glimpse into the indie rock anthems to come. Amongst the most radio friendly of these anthems are the two tracks released as music video singles, Will to Life and Mediations on Loss, featuring thumping rhythms and nods to old influences like Biffy Clyro, with massive hook-filled choruses and a crunchy guitar-driven tone. On the softer end of the pop spectrum, Lucille darts in with an interlocked rhythm section reminiscent of early Bombay Bicycle Club, though Tall Ships make their own mark with a chorus of vocal lines - taken from all parts of the song and interwoven - that works so surprisingly well as an ending cacophony. Testament to the true accessibility of this album, Lost & Found features a short guitar riff that sounds like the Arctic Monkeys track ‘That’s Where You’re Wrong’, showcasing the indie band making ballads with a nostalgic 80’s tone.

Ending on a note of relative optimism, Day by Day is a bittersweet anthem for repair and renewal, a chance ‘to redefine why it is you live your life’. These sentiments define this charming track as it fights its way towards being optimistic but ultimately remains grounded in the futile mire of reality: ‘we need to do something before we get too old.’ The tone is at times upbeat, the lyrics never too saccharine, the sad reflections thus far end with a glimmer of hope, like watching a split of daylight radiate between two grey clouds.

A word for the two tracks hidden away on the C side of the vinyl could not go amiss. Something of a concealed title track, Impressions creates a purposeful backdrop of layered synths as Ric roars out with a lyrical drive-by of the albums themes. A wallop of uplifting guitar slowly builds in a cinematic moment of anticipation reminiscent of their debut album closer, Murmurations; this fiery post-rock instrumental as engrossing as Rock Action era Mogwai. Meanwhile, Purge finishes the offerings of this album with a little guitar groove, jumping and darting, whilst the vision of Impressions is brought to a close with a plangent piano refrain.

As ever, Tall Ships’ drum work is understated, a highlight from Everything Touching being the simple fx-laden beat that starts and underlines Idolatry. Once again – and more ear-catching than ever - Jamie shows how best to serve the song by writing simple, crunchy motifs with the odd beat chopped off, reverb slapped on or percussive tone changed, as to excite the ear on the first listen but to let it settle in hypnotically upon repeat. Meanwhile, Matt’s complimentary bass riffs range from the pulsing grooves in Lucille to the thumping persistence of Meditations on Loss to the warm and wide undercurrents of Home.

Along this well-trodden path from largely instrumental, intricately looped and angular math-rock towards a more careful pop sound sit bands like Enemies and, more recently, Waking Aida. Similarly, Tall Ships’ turn from dense loops of interwoven riffs to an indie pop tone traces a clear path. From the spoken word samples on their first EP, to the big swooning vocal lines on ‘Chemistry’, to the more vocally driven parts of Everything Touching, now we have the complete package; nine tracks where vocal hooks don’t just adorn great riffs as an afterthought, but provide the foundation for the song. The stories and sentiments told feel as if they are influencing the style of the instruments for the first time in the band’s work.

Resultantly, the song structures are built around the lyrical drive too. And so, although the band have adopted a more indie alt-pop tone, outside of the radio-friendly singles they still have a penchant for longer songs with unusual musical throughflows. This pushes them to rewarding places. Ric’s unwinding narratives compel the band to forego the traditional verse-chorus set up in favour of one long, building and unfolding track that slowly envelopes those brave enough to listen attentively. In doing so, the band avoid a feeling of disjointedness; no longer treading back along old paths with a chorus repeated wholesale, but forging a new one on which Ric’s evocative message can develop. This allows songs like Home and Petrichor to germinate organically, to be as immersive sonically as the lyrics are in their narrative form.

Since the release of the B-side Send News from 2011’s single Hit the Floor, I have been enamoured with Tall Ships at their most delicate. When the bombast of pulsing drums and angular riffs subsides, you are left – in Idolatry, Ode to Ancestors and another B-side, Life Goes On - with layers of vocal, ripples of piano and delicate refrains to sing along to. For this reason, the lilting Lost & Found is without a doubt my personal highlight of this release, and arguably the best showcase of Ric’s unique ability never to waste a good lyric on a half-hearted melody, but to propel each line into significance with a memorable one. Lyrically, Ric writes the textbook for demonstrating how profound it can be to never worry about profundity, but to know the first words that come to mind often capture the idea at its most transparent and honest. On this theme, it is surprising that after the many years the band have had to self-produce the album, achingly crafting every single note and tone of each overdub, the album still sounds the result of an effortless, unstudied process. A common criticism from those that have been following the band since their guitar loop-driven early days is that they’ve lost their exciting mathyness. This was perfectly crystallised to me at ATG in 2014 when (in a drunkenly slurred Scottish accent) a young man confided in me his belief that ‘Tall Ships are wee bit too poppy.’ Well, I’d obviously argue after having written this ludicrously long review, I think they’re exactly poppy enough: utterly hypnotic, effortless, memorable, but still showcasing intricate, complex and thoughtful songs with stunning musicianship and a ‘less is more but 5 sets of backing vocals and 3 synth tones still aren’t quite enough’ sort of feeling. A masterful album and their best release to date. Another minute would be too intense to bear.

#tall ships #impressions #review #band #profile #horizontal #album review

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midlifemusingsfromthemidwest · 6 years

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A Companion Named Sorrow

I walked a mile with Pleasure; She chatted all the way; But left me none the wiser For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow, And ne’er a word said she; But, oh! The things I learned from her, When sorrow walked with me.-Robert Browning Hamilton

Two years ago, one of my very best friends died from complications of brain cancer. Oligodendroglia. Talk about a mouthful, that word is that and so much more. The moment that began this journey occurred over ten years ago, with a 2 am panicked call from my friend’s husband asking if I could get dressed and go to their house to stay with their kids. My friend had awakened him in the middle of the night as she had a massive seizure. Until that night at 2 am, I had no idea that from that instant on, this insidious disease would slowly take her from me, bit by bit. We would remain friends until the day she died and beyond, but that day was the day it all started. That day, Sorrow became my constant companion.

My friend was the funniest, most unique, liveliest, loyal person I had ever met. She was the most intriguing mix of sensitive and strong, tender and tough, that I had ever encountered. She made me a better person, just by being her friend. As we were living our lives pre-cancer though, I truly didn’t realize how special and unique she truly was. We were too busy simply living life and enjoying our friendship. We raised our kids together from their preschool years. We had play dates at McDonalds for toddlers, boozy hot tub evenings while our kids watched Disney movies inside, lunch dates while the kids were in school that lasted three hours, we shopped together, laughed together, and took weekend getaways together with our kids and husbands. We had so many things we were going to do in the following decades. There is no way to describe the depth of the friendship, nor the bond we shared. And it was a friendship neither of us doubted would last throughout our entire lives. We joked, as so many friends do, about the hell we would raise in the nursing home together someday. I have said so many times since she passed, that it was the friendship of a lifetime.

I had lost people to death before I lost this friend. Grandparents, a father-in-law, a co-worker had all passed away and I had grieved them. In those instances, sorrow came to stay for a short time, and then as any visitor should do, left. With my friend’s illness though, sorrow moved in. It seemed that sorrow was determined to stay a while as it had many lessons to teach me, each one difficult, frustrating, and heartbreaking.

Our decade long friendship lulled me into thinking that every day wasn’t important because we would always have tomorrow. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate or value our friendship because I did, it’s just that I didn’t appreciate it value it as much as I should have. I didn’t realize that it was going to be ripped from me in big pieces and in small ones until all I had left were precious memories.

Pleasure was kind in its lessons. There were times during our friendship when I would cancel a lunch or coffee date, because I had a little bit of a headache or I was tired from being up late with a sick kid, or finishing a writing deadline at 3 am. Likewise, she cancelled at times as well. It wasn’t a big deal, because we had so much time to do all the fun things we loved to do together. Pleasure made us feel safe to put things off, take things for granted, and under-appreciate the incredible gift of friendship that we had been given.

Then, with no warning, Sorrow moved in. First there was the seizure, the shock, and the fear. Then, there was brain surgery to remove the tumor. Next, there was the horror of realizing that brain surgery can change a person in profound ways. Your dearest friend can be wheeled away, and though she may look very similar as she comes to consciousness with her head swaddled in white bandages, the fact is she is now a different person. Eventually, she will look almost the same, but her brain is no longer whole, and at that point neither is your friendship.

Unless you have dealt with brain cancer, it is difficult to explain how much a person changes when a chunk of brain tissue is cut out of that person’s brain in an effort to remove as much of the cancer as possible. So, for ten years, I had to accept that the friend I previously had was not ever going to be the same. She was still funny, but she was severely depressed. She was still vibrant, but little by little her independence was stripped away from her until she was paralyzed on one side and confined to a wheelchair. She was angry, and had every right to be. She was sad, of course. As a result of her brain surgery, she had no filter, so at times she was harsh and cruel; she didn’t meant to be, but her brain simply didn’t work as it used to.

She was also a fighter with more tenacity and stubbornness to beat this insidious disease than I have ever witnessed. Every time it knocked her down, she dusted herself off and picked herself up. Not only that, but she did so with humor that inspired me. Strokes, seizures, falls, loss of hair, paralysis, a walker, adult diapers, a wheelchair, and death stalking her were her trials, yet she laughed at each one. We laughed together, as I lay in her hospital bed with her. We managed to find humor when I helped her to her hospital porta-potty, held her steady, and cleaned her up. We laughed as I struggled to lift her into my vehicle, and maneuver her into her wheelchair. Every day that we spent together, we laughed and we stole joy from the tiniest place we could find it. In the end, brain cancer won; it was always going to.

I continue to this day with sorrow as my companion. Sorrow has taught me so many lessons that pleasure never could have taught me. I have accepted sorrow in my life, but pleasure was a much easier companion to have. How I wish for even just one day that I could go back to the pleasure of my friendship when it was devoid of sorrow’s lessons of gratitude, humility, and patience. I am a better person today because of not only my friendship with my amazing friend who died two years ago, but also because of those difficult lessons sorrow forced upon me. Today, I don’t cancel lunch dates or coffee dates without a very good reason. I no longer assume that next week or next month is promised. I let my true friends know how much I love them, and how much they enrich my life–even if I am pretty sure they already know that. I forgive behavior that is forgivable and I move on more easily with kindness in my heart. I also no longer give my time or my energy to people who are toxic or who don’t enrich my life. Sorrow taught me that today is all we have for sure; so don’t waste it on evil, toxic people who are takers or joy-thieves. Sorry taught me to laugh, to be kinder to myself, and to more gracious with those I love. Sorrow is an expert teacher.

Sorrow no longer lives in my every thought. After two years, sorrow emerges when I visit our favorite coffee shop, or eat at our favorite restaurant, or hear something funny that I know my friend would find hilarious. Sorrow is still a frequent visitor but no longer an uninvited full-time companion. When I look back at all of the wonderful times I was blessed with during the years my friend was alive, I know pleasure was a kind companion whom I will always welcome. Not only do I welcome pleasure, but also I fully appreciate it. Sorrow, on the other hand, is the companion who has taught me lessons I needed to learn. I am sure sorrow and I will continue this journey we set out upon over a decade ago, but today we are easier companions.

#Robert Browning Hamilton #sorrow #lessons #death of a friend #brain cancer #oligodrendroglioma #grief #when sorrow walked with me #grattitude #miss my friend

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beccawastaken · 7 years

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My life summarized Pt. 1...

I started this blog cause there is always so much in my head, it moves at the speed of light, some of it makes complete and utter sense, some of it sounds great til the very second it rolls off my tongue and then sounds nothing like it did in my head, some of it is just random nonsensical stuff that seems to have fallen off a stand up comedians cue cards and straight into the part of my psyche that prefers her own lyrics. It makes it very hard to focus on one task to completion, I even tend to put down my guitar and journal for months on end...so sad!

I must admit that I have worked my ass off to try to make some kind of sense of it all and now when I am unable to rather than let frustration take over I tend to find my random head ramblings amusing. I mean it is often a frustrated, shaking my head at myself kind of amusing but still...baby steps right?

Sometimes the thoughts can be so intense and so rapid that its overwhelming and it takes every ounce of my strength not to scream til it stops. At its worst its almost like there are so many thoughts moving so quickly that it can sound like a constant high pitch buzz in my head. Super exhausting, and difficult to explain to those around you. People tell me to just go to sleep...ever tried sleeping with a shop vac on or inside a construction site? That would be comparable to this, plus, sleeping also isn't my forte so I’m double fucked so to speak.

The human mind and psyche intrigues me to no end. The way it works, and how the basic brain functions are the same across society yet our perception and the cogs and wheels inside each skull are as unique as our deoxyribonucleic acid. For each and every one of us, the way we tick can be vastly different from one another, from the person beside you on the bus, to that guy you’ve worked with for years to a lover or spouse and often really have no way of knowing. I mean how often do we turn to each other and say “can we talk about how your brain works?” We just take for granted that it does and don’t give it a second thought.(haha you will come to notice my love for puns)

Its the intricate differences between us that keep me interested in this self sabotaging species, I mean really, Earth doesn’t need humans to survive, in fact it may be better off without us! Who knows, what I do know is that while im here on this seemingly massive planet im going to make the most of it.

I have a wicked sense of humour (ask anyone haha) and I enjoy messing with people (in a jovial way of course). Im talking like practical joke type of messing with people, light, innocent funny shit. I have been referred to as a brain ninja...I took it as a compliment, however, when you are on the receiving end its possible that it isnt nearly as enjoyable. I do my best not to be mean (I said I do my best, I am not perfect) cause you know, I’m no psycho, although some will attest to that statement not being true, I have honed my inner psycho and now only use her when absolutely necessary. Like if some douchelord crosses one of my angels or my grandson. Then my wrath should be feared, simple enough right? (WOW that escalated quickly! O_O)

I just do not want to waste my life, I spent so much of it not knowing how to handle daily life, assuming (naturally cause why wouldn’t I as a single child raised by someone that constantly blamed others and the world for her problems) that everyone’s mind worked the same, everybody deals with the racing and loops of thoughts you cant kick, or falls asleep with a song stuck in they’re head and wakes up and it starts again as if paused. Every morning. (Don’t drop that duh duh duh....grrr) For days! I mean doesn't everybody worry about every move they make, and lay in bed with they’re eyes closed trying to sleep and checking the clock twenty minutes later only to find SURPRISE, its been three hours! Or this relentless saviour complex I have, I can solve almost anyone's problem or at least help them find a path they are more comfy with but for years when it came to mine, I just couldn’t. This is just a few of the things i deal with or have been forced to deal with this life, Im sure i will touch on more.

I have my children to thank for helping me learn how to deal with my version of life and not giving up on me when I know it would have been easier at times. (Dont drop that duhduhduh....ugh) I want to be honest in this blog, I pride myself on my honesty yet shy away from the darker, not so beautiful sides of who I am as if they don’t exist to the outside world. The thing is, I do not look sick, in fact I look great, besides a few extra pounds. My illness is not a physical one yet it has complete control from the inside out a lot of the time. I work very hard on a daily basis so I do not look like I am falling apart.

I feel emotions at a much higher level than the majority of humanity, I know this now. I don’t feel a lil bit of anything, if im sad, im so sad that even just being in my presence can break your heart. If something good happens and I feel a twinge of joy, I literally have to physically hold myself still sometimes cause it will surge like a lightening bolt through me and often some strange squeak comes out, fingers fully extended as if the energy just exploded form my core and out my extremities. Then, just as fast as it surges it disappears and there I am a woman bordering forty with this maniacal smile on my face like the joker and hair standing up like the professor from Back to The Future. Its quite a sight I am sure, and as much as it has been really hard to work with this side of myself I would rather be inside looking out and have to fix my hair then the onlookers forced to decide between the choice to ask if I am alright or back away slowly. Same with anger, although we have a bit of a deeper connection than other emotions, yea, thats right, we tight. Let me explain...or try;

I like to think my anger trigger point was when grandpa died, but looking back that is ridiculous, I was pissed at both my parents for what they put me through during the divorce but refused to take it out on them, they were in enough pain, they couldn't see it but i sure could. When I am angry I scare people, I seem to fear nothing (not sure if that’s brave or not) and once I am angry there is no going back, I am completely incorrigible, illogical and refuse to listen. I have scared off men twice my size, not with violence of the physical kind, my verbal violence can be so articulated that I honestly think some people are scared to the core. I have shocked myself at times and thats not easy. Once I realized that I was growing into my version of the hulk I had to do something, I was starting to hate everyone and everything.

I started replacing the empty yet extremely fucked up (for lack of a better word) threats with just simply making light of what it was that triggered me, albeit in an aggressive manner however it has proven effective in attempting to analyze what set me off and try to stop the rage fuelled rant.

I really wanted to give you an example but as I was trying to find one it proved difficult so im gonna call that progress. Anyway this venting became humorous to those around me, they all knew me so well that they would turn they’re heads and try not to laugh (ever been laughed at when your livid? its not cool, same as if are upset and someone says ‘calm down’ calm down, CALM DOWN?! like fuck off n all if you honestly believe im not trying, you think i wanna feel this way? like this is some kind of sick joke for me? pfft people!) in an attempt to not be caught in the crossfire of my verbal war.

At first this angered me too (go figure, Hulkbitch) then one day, someone laughed and I took a step back and thought about what I had said and started laughing. Clearly my loved ones weren't laughing at my agony, but the words and descriptions i used to figure it out did tend to be funny. It takes a lot for me to get angry like that now, if I do tho, I still vent with sarcastic wit and make myself laugh to bring myself out of it.

I think I have myself in line pretty well now, I guess I should give some history here, I was a very happy child on the outside but a ball of nerves within, my mother was extremely mentally ill (which i did not know til after her passing) and my father was a violent alcoholic. Luckily I was sheltered from the worst of what they put each other through as they separated when I was 2, but fought and fought and fought over me for nine years. My mum would insist dad never wanted me he just didn't want her to have me, said that I was never good enough in his eyes cause he wanted a boy. Dad, would point out the homeless lady pushing all her belongings in a shopping cart and say “hey kid, thats where your mum is headed, just you watch”. I know now they were just dealing in their own ways with what was happening between them but it really messed with me.

My father, my daddy, quit drinking not long after the separation, i to this day believe that he did this not only for himself but for me, to show me that no matter what you can make changes, just gotta face the problem head on and deal with it so you can move past it. He was always a tough, vulgar, strong, stubborn, hilarious and short lil french man with an ego the size of Goliath. He taught me not to take shit from anyone if I believed in the topic at hand and to learn to turn a cold shoulder when needed. Emotions were not discussed, Im not even sure to this day if I can remember him ever saying I love you, but he didn’t have to, I know he did.

Mum had her own ways of dealing over the years, she was all emotion, raw and uncut. She would always react first, think later, which meant she felt the need to apologize a lot. For her mistake, for not being good enough, for not doing well enough this was so hard to watch. She would repeat the same self defeating patterns she had been doing her whole life and expecting things to change. Definition if insanity much? shitty part is back then they had no fucking idea what insanity was, nor did they care to look. Had someone just took her side and spoke for her she would still be here, if only she was honest with me about how sick she was, I may never have gotten as sick as I did. She thought she was protecting me...

This woman was the sun to my moon and I loved her more than words can ever express. She never believed me when I said it, she always said right up til the end that nobody ever loved her. I know this was not true cause I figured my dad wouldn't get so mad about stuff if he didn't care, the opposite of love is not hate, its indifference. Mum was always in and out of the hospital and it was super hush hush, I assumed she had cancer. I was petrified to lose her, so I didn’t ask questions, just waited.

The custody battle went on and on, I remember my dad pushing our 1970somthing car up the street for some reason, didn't phase me much. I just said “oh look theres my daddy, he looks mad!”. We went to Expo ‘86 in British Columbia and mum was subpoena’d to come back to the prairies for court immediately, so she had to leave her vacation just to go back and find out it was remanded. They were both so angry all the time, I thought it was my fault...had I not been there there would be nothing left to fight about right?

Okay so divorce was finalized when I was 11...Grandma and grandpa (mums side) loved the shit out of me too, ive seen pics of gramma in the military which made sense as I grew up as to why she was so tough but she must have been retired by time I was born. They bought an old ‘70s van and converted it into beds in the back, a table and even a port a potty! They lovingly got personalized plates with my name and the number “2″ after it. They took really good care of me, always loved me and wanted what was best.

I remember around 10yrs old I realized my initials were B.S. and I was not impressed at all as not one word that came out my mouth (at that age) was BS. I was insulted and wanted it changed, plus I knew it would make mum happy if I changed my name to hers. The divorce was finalized my initials were changed to B.J....JUST in time for puberty, (woooooooo) yeah, didn't live that one down for a very long time.

My reason for bringing up my grandparents is so that you all know that aside from this somewhat bleak story thus far, I had many people that loved me, including mum and dad, they just preferred to fight about it.

Shit, fuck, damn, I just had a memory, not a good one but I spoz thats why our brains block things out eh? I do not know how this came about, my mother was very abused growing up and it took a toll on her. I remember mum and the grandparents fighting, i remember gramma telling mum to get her head out of her ass and i remember trying to picture that...I was not going to be seeing them for a while til things cooled down.

Mum was sure that my grandpa had molested me, I am not going to say it didn’t happen but as far as I can recall my grandpa was the sweetest most loving man ever. anyway, mum was questioning me, yelling, badgering me and generally acting crazy i spoz, this was before I know what that looked like. She kept asking inches from my face if he had done anything to me and i maintained that he hadn’t. Finally hours later I was tired and hungry and she was clearly still psychotic she yelled at me are you sure (for the millionth time) I finally yelled out “fine, he did it!” I had no idea what he had done, or when, cause i wasn't there i just wanted her to stop. She was making herself crazy and it broke my heart. I didn't see my grandparents again for three years. Grandpa had gone senile and was not himself, didnt remember close family members etc. When I got there, I ran in the house and we met at the doorway, me at the bottom of the entrance stairs and him at the top. I smiled, and he looked at me puzzled, then started crying, then laughing then crying. I was so glad he got to remember me. I missed him so much.

This was all before I was even a teenager. Grandpa died not long after he was put in a care home cause gramma wasn't able to care for him. His death was my first experience with such a thing, I had no way of knowing how to deal with a loss like this...so I guess I just didn’t.

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kindredconfectionery · 7 years

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> Jake and John: Hunt the Hunters

In which the brothers seek revenge in honor of @wanderingcherub and @hellaxing. Completed with @judgenexecutioner, who has my eternal gratitude for poking their snoozing Jake muse into wakefulness enough to pull this off when I hit a massive wall.

After far too long a period of waiting, the necessity of which nestled securely on John’s shoulders, they were finally setting out to execute the idea he had inadvertently planted into his brother’s head. He knows Jake never would have come up with it on his own, but once it had been said, he latched on, and there was no going back. There was also no way he would be allowed to do it alone, hence the wait. John didn’t have divinely bestowed powers with which to even touch the souls, but he did have the magic he had coincidentally just started learning near the time of the incident that incited both of their wraths.

Now they both finally had their shit together, Jake his gear and his holiness or whatever it was, and John his hoodlum hunting getup and enough control over his shadows for them to be of use without being dangerous. He can’t help but vaguely wonder what the weapons being packed will do, but since his brother is wielding them, John assumes they’ll be of some use. Or if all they are is a comfort, he certainly can’t begrudge that either, what with where they’re going after all.

Given John’s sad lack of wings to allow him to travel between the realms, he latches onto Jake, who works the magic with his tiny butter colored wings that are probably far more adored by others than by their actual owner. They land in the realm belonging to Lust, which is where Jake’s soul-dar has pointed them. Granted, it’s still a decent sized realm, but at least they don’t have to attempt to randomly comb through the whole of Perdition to find the hunters they’re seeking.

John is a bit ill at ease being down there at all, given the future judgment pronounced on him only months ago, but it’s nothing like what it does to his brother. It’s the antithesis of Jake’s God given abilities, and he’s a truly living soul. Apparently, being a vampire falls into neither of those categories, lucky John.

This makes it his job to keep a close watch on Jake as they travel through the realm. Bleak and depressing and neglected by its Prince, the landscape is dim and dotted with buildings in disrepair. There’s a sense maybe they were once brothels, but they’re crumbling now. Souls wander the streets, weighed down and dimmed from the natural brightness by the weight of their sins. Some are so far gone that they’re nearly snuffed out. Although that picture of the souls is reserved only for the judge himself, John merely seeing them as if they were washed out through an irremovable filter.

Unfortunately, the soul-dar doesn’t pinpoint them all that close to where the former hunters currently are. That would have made things far too easy, of course. So they head in the direction of the strongest pull. It’s not easy to tell how long they’ve been there, but it feels like hours of twisting circles and nonsense directions that yield very little in the way of progress. What they do is sap Jake of his strength to the point where his breath is labored and his shoulders are shaking with the exertion of merely walking, which would normally a simple matter for him.

And then there are the pesky shades. Neither of them really know what they are. Lucifer’s creations? Former souls? Something else? But that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that they’re all over Jake like ants to honey. He can’t outright control or transform them, but they do seem to possess a high enough percentage of actual shadow that John can give them the very strong idea that they ought to leave his brother alone. There would be consequences to the contrary if they didn’t. Whether it’s his words, the mental push of the Power he uses to wield the magic or a little of both is irrelevant to him. All he cares about is that they keep their distance. If they want to be stalker lookie loos, he won’t stop them, but the moment they try to touch, it’s bye bye shade.

There comes a point where Jake knows he should probably sit and rest, but he doesn’t. In Perdition, any delay is counterproductive to recovering his well-being. “This… this way.” He motions to John, turning left to what looks to be an opium den, which draws a nose wrinkle from the vampire, who is plenty familiar with those kinds of establishments and never cared for them all that much.

“Figures,” he comments as he glares past his brother to mentally shove at the encroaching shadows again. There really does seem to be a neverending wave of them, and they’re all out to get Jake. “You sure you’re okay enough to do this?”

Jake glances back at John. “Does it?” He doesn’t know much about the drug, except that it is capable of killing, and in a place like this, it’s a trap. A place where people could feel they’re escaping their problems without making any headway in actually absolving their sins. “I… I’m fine.” The stutter gives him away, and he mentally growls at himself. “The longer we’re here, the worse it will get.”

John shrugs. “It’s where people go to forget about their problems, and what would be worse for demon hunters than being stuck in Perdition?” He studies his brother. Jake is definitely not okay, but he also makes a solid point. The thought of leaving and returning later is dismissed, since it’s likely they will end up with the same problem. He give a small nod and starts into the opium den. “All right then. Let’s do it.”

Jake snorts softly. “I don’t know. They could see it as a veritable smorgasbord, but I do see what you mean.” Taking a deep breath to steady himself, forcing his limbs to stop shaking. He looks at his brother, nods, and goes in.

Upon entering the opium den, John fixes a neutrally pleasant expression to his face, hands tucked into the hoodie’s pocket. Just a guy, out for a stroll, with a very stoic companion, if Jake’s serious, closed off expression is anything to go by, in the middle of a hellish drug haven. There’s still something about the vampire that warns people away as they make their way through the place to their targets. It’s also obvious that some people remember Jake, and they’re none too happy about seeing the guy who sent them here. Or rather, who they blame for being sent here, since the condemned are so through their own actions, but the judge makes an easy target to shift it off themselves.

Ever vigilant, John is still following the lead of his brother, heading in the direction indicated. Even the foggy din and god awful smells can’t hide the hunters from them. Deciding to try a ruse to lure the targets out into the open and away from the other souls, the vampire waves at them as if they’re old friends. “Hey guys!”

But they recognize the two of you immediately from being judged, this being one of the times John had been present for the occasion, and they’re not stupid. Or at least they’re not stupid enough to think Jake and John are just popping by for a friendly chat. And so the chase is on. Other people are getting in the way of the pursuit. They may not be interested in a fight with either of the brothers, but they have no qualms about slowing them down.

John only actively fights back enough to keep people out of the way. This is an unnecessary distraction and a waste of precious time and energy. Jake’s time and energy mostly, since his own was perfectly fine. He also has the Mark, so he lets the divine protection do its job in getting rid of people from his way while he worries more about the ones going after his brother. That’s the last thing he needs on top of everything else about Perdition.

Even with the help, Jake’s breathing is still labored, muscles aching when they finally manage to break through. Or so they think, as he is met with a broken pipe just grazing his side. His blood is slow to well up, staining his shirt. He curses and throws a knife in the direction the pipe came from, hearing a curse of pain.

A growl erupts when John scents the blood, and if not for the curse following the knife throw, he would have gone after the pipe bearer himself. As it is, he does the one thing he was taught by the witches never to do: use the magic when he’s angry and unfocused. But he’s had enough of this and is past caring. Even their own weak, natural shadows, dim as they are in the bleak landscape, feel unpredictable, but John pulls them up around them like walls and shoves outward anyway to move the souls crowding them back. It’s rather effective, maybe a little too much, as it seems to consume a few souls in the process, which is not something he would have meant to do under normal circumstances.

“John!” Jake hadn’t expected him to do that. He curses aloud, and it’s not in a language anyone but John would recognize. He keeps clear of the shadows that had sprung up around them. He hadn’t even realized his brother had grown so powerful. All he had ever really seen was small displays, controlled efforts. And it had not escaped Jake’s notice that some of the bystanding souls had been consumed, which is one of the last things he wanted. “Brother, stop!”

Logically, this shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise. John has been alive a very long time and possesses quite a reserve of mostly untapped raw Power. He just rarely uses it. Despite it having the intended effect of grabbing his attention and making him drop the assault, he still gives Jake a look like he’s questioning what the problem is, eyes aglow with the use of his Power.

This look is short-lived, attention going back to the targets. A quick count reveals one to be missing, but he can be chased down later. They don’t have to go all together, after all, as long as they’re all gone in the end.

Jake’s brows pucker in worry. He knows what happened to the last hunter. It’s one of the ones absorbed into the shadow barrier, but he doesn’t think his brother realizes this fact. He also wonders whether John is aware at all that any souls were consumed. Licking his lips, he decides to move forward. “Do you want me to take care of them, or do you want the honor?”

“I figured we could split them. After all, Jade was family and Bel friends to both of us. It’s only fair.”

Jake nods, staring at the trapped and trembling hunters. They are at a distinct disadvantage. Cornered, weaponless, and worse, they had managed to hurt him and piss John off. His brother might not know one of them had been absorbed by his shadows, but the rest of them knew it and had a newfound fear for the vampire.

Taking a deep breath, Jake glances at his brother. “Bring your shadows down. I can’t work as well in here.”

Given how much he’s used to people cowering and begging and bargaining on vengeance missions, John doesn’t much care what they’re doing. Jake’s response takes him by surprise though, since he thought the nod meant an agreement to the splitting them arrangement. He looks over, blinking. “You want me to take all of them?”

Jake quirks a brow. “Where did you get that from what I said?”

John snorts. “The same place you pulled that request from, apparently.”

Understanding now that, Jake just wants him to start, he looks back at the hunters. “An eye for an eye. You tore apart the lives of two people we love, so now we’re going to do the same to you. Buh bye!” He smiles and waves at them. The shadows don’t come down so much as they appear in swirls and clumps around the hunters he’s focusing on, enveloping them in tendrils.

Jake mentally cringes. An eye for an eye. He realizes now what this little vengeance seeking is going to cost him, but he’s in too deep now. He watches his brother start before concentrating on starting himself. It takes a while to summon up the amount of hope and light he needs and for it to fill him up before he unleashes it on the ones John’s shadows don’t reach.

John has no idea what this will cost Jake. It’s not even on his radar of consideration. Vengeance only costs him in conscience, and his conscience is perfectly fine with it. He trusts his brother not to hit him with the light, but he still keeps an eye on it anyway as his shadows absorb into the souls before they’re essentially shredded by an outward pull of all the tendrils at once. The bits leftover absorb themselves into the darkness once that’s done.

Avoiding the vampire is all too easy for Jake. He’s paying very close attention to what he’s doing. The light fills the hunters, and their screams fill the bleak sky. They’re burned out, slow enough to be agonizing. And once it’s done, not even their ashes remain.

A part of John is vaguely horrified by this, in large part because he knows what it feels like to be burnt inside that light. What Jake did is probably more horrible than what he did, but he waits simply waits for it to be over, tucking his hands back into the hoodie pocket.

By the time he’s finished, Jake feels weakened. Maybe that’s why his lights look dimmer. He leans against his brother, breathing hard and shaking. John’s arms go around him, letting him rest on him. “You want me to get the slippery one by myself?”

Jake’s brows furrow a bit. What is John talking about? “The slippery one?”

“There were only eight people here, which means one is missing,” he explains patiently. “And I don’t think that one should get off just because they can run faster.”

Shaking his head tiredly, Jake takes a slow, deep breath. “They didn’t escape. You absorbed them into your shadows when you first used them.”

“Oh… whoops.” John smiles sheepishly. “Guess we can go whenever you’re ready then.” He’s already holding onto Jake, and resting here is probably more draining than refreshing for him.

“You didn’t even feel it?” Jake wonders if he should tell John that’s not the only soul he absorbed then. He nods to signal his readiness to depart and closes his eyes. At his back, the wings flutter, and with a small flash of light, they’re home. He brought them into the ballroom just in case. It’s now that his knees finally give out on him, and he slumps onto the floor.

“I know I hit some people, but I can’t tell one soul from another like you can. I’ll feel bad about the others later.” He knows he’ll actually just shove it aside with the all the rest of his guilts, but he says that for Jake’s benefit anyway. John tries to catch his brother before gathering him up and carrying him up the stairs to bed, because boy does Jake need it.

Fortunately for John, Jake is currently too tired to think too deeply about anything. His eyelids flutter heavily when he feels the world spin around him, and he knows he’s been picked up. “I haven’t felt this tired since I tried to pick a fight with Lucifer…”

Despite knowing he should probably just let him rest, but also knowing they have to go up three flights of stairs, John decides to indulge his curiosity. “...What on Earth were you picking a fight with Lucifer for?”

Jake blushes. Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he’s just too damn tired to blush. “He insulted my honor publicly, and I wanted to teach him a lesson. It was a fool’s errand from start to finish.”

John laughs heartily. “That sounds like something I’d do if I thought I had any honor left. Now you get some sleep. No more fool’s errands until you’re good and rested.” He admonishes, while laying his brother in bed.

He sighs, wanting to argue, but as soon as John lays him down on the soft bed, it’s almost like the darkness rises up to meet Jake, claiming him and dragging him down to sleep. Smiling softly at him, John crawls in with his brother. He could use the rest after all that too.

#death #drugs mention #narrative post #judgenexecutioner #wanderingcherub #hellaxing #Hunt the Hunters

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coreshorts · 7 years

Text

The Trial of Stone

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The stay in Swiftperch was longer than she expected. With the town coming under attack by slavers, Hali found herself pulled toward the fight to capture them after the town was cleared and she had recovered from her previous trial. Though the battle left her beaten and bloodied, having very unwisely engaging in close combat, but also being caught in the Captain’s last-ditch effort to kill his would-be captors, she was healed and after another day of rest, set out again, the crystal beckoning her to the far north.

She headed back toward Gridania, where she set off on foot for the highlands of Coerthas. Though she enjoyed Vylbrand’s cool, rainy weather, this was a whole new treat. Snow was ever her favourite, the quiet of snowfall, the crunch under her boots as she trekked through the drifts, the faint whipping of wind, and even the biting, bitter cold bringing her a strange kind of joy.

The crystal pointed further west, taking her through the snowy central highlands, and up across the mountains toward the western highlands. It took her the better part of a day, staying awake and moving through the better part of what might, if not for the perpetual snowfall, be daylight, to reach the other end.

Of course, the time it took her to trudge across the frozen land was partially owed to her wish to take her time through Coerthas, enjoying the weather, even stopping to play in the snow from time to time, making snowballs and practising her Ruinbolt spell by tossing them into the air and blowing them to bits, often with a gleeful giggling following the crack of thunder that often followed.

Though it saddened her, she eventually made her way through the mountain pass that led toward Dravania, and the crystal’s destination. When she emerged on the other side, she was thankful that the cold was still present, at least, but stood in wonder at the strange, foreign beauty of the Forelands. Everything was different: the trees, like great spiders that towered over her, the sky, dotted with what she could have sworn were floating rocks and islands, and even the very ground, which, despite the cold, remained covered in foliage.

Something got her eye as she walked the path toward what appeared to be a settlement, seeking shelter and a place to rest. With a roar, a dragon passed overhead, dipping down into a clearing in the trees, and snatched up what looked to be some kind of cross between a coeurl and a bear - a creature she’d later know to be a bandersnatch. The creature, easily twice her size, was dwarfed by the massive dragon, and she stood, transfixed, her mouth hanging open in awe and fear.

It wasn’t much further down the path that she happened upon Tailfeather, happy for the hospitality of its chocobo-hunting inhabitants, but less for the cloying stench of the birds that was ever present. Nonetheless, for some coin, she was offered shelter and a bunk to rest for the remainder of the day, and come the late evening, with enough sleep to set her in motion again and a bit of tea to help her along, she set off again.

The crystal’s direction was one of unfortunate difficulty, however. As she neared the nearby mountain, the dragons’ sacred summit of Sohm Al at the peak and home of Anyx Trine at the base, she realised that passing them to her destination would likely be the most idiotic decision she could make. However, she was equipped to bypass such an arduous and likely deadly encounter, and, nearing the base of the mountain outside Anyx Trine’s great stone walls, she began to concentrate,

The ground beneath her shifted with a crumbling noise, and, as through it were water, she sunk into it, the Burrow spell that she had learned carrying her through the mountain’s stone and earth until she reached a shaded area among its cliffs, safe from prying Dravanian eyes.

The cave mouth nearby seemed to radiate heat, and an odour akin to sulfur, marking it to Hali as a volcanic mountain, and that gave her pause. This would be a difficult trial, indeed. She focused, creating a pocket of breathable, cooling air around her with her conjury as she headed further into the cave, and, though it didn’t help to keep her senses clear of the choking fumes and smoke, it kept her safe from breathing too much, the worst of it being an acrid burning at the back of her throat.

Further into the cave that she later knew as Mourn - the final resting place of dragons - she encountered a shrine, with two of the men waiting, one before the shine, peering up at it, and the other staring off into the depths of the mountain. The shrine itself was a towering figure of a dragon, cut from stone, with glowing crystals to either side that radiated heat.

Before she could speak, as she approached, the man to the side turned to her and spoke up, “The Vessel has questions.” Hali blinked, then nodded.

“I... do,” she said, taken aback for a moment, not expecting to be offered answers already. She thought on the best ones to ask, not sure of how long the man might humour her.

“Who or what are you?” she asked, “What do you call yourselves?”

“We are Immortals,” came the simple answer. She wasn’t impressed with it, and she rethought the question.

“Okay. What is this magic you use? What’s it called...?”

“It is power,” the man replied with an arrogant tone and a scoff, “Nothing more.”

Hali’s brow furrowed and she grew irritated, beginning to think of another question that might get the answer she wanted.

She was, however, cut off, “The Vessel has one more question.”

“Mh,” she grunted, annoyed. She thought hard on that last question. She could ask them what they wanted from her, what their plans were for her, but if it was ill intent of some kind, they wouldn’t tell her. As it was, all she had been given were cryptic half-answers for the most part.

“What is a Vessel?” she finally asked, frowning.

“An empty soul. Weak, to be fed with power that it may grow strong,” was the final reply, and, without another word, the man turned to gaze out over the thick smoke rising from the depths of the mountain again, silent.

“What is this place?” asked the man before the shrine, turning to face her fully.

“Um,” she shrugged, trying to recall what the residents of Tailfeather had told her, “It’s a gravesite for dragons. A final resting place.”

“And what is this?” the man motioned to the statue behind him.

“I... assume a shrine, maybe to some god. Or a memorial of sorts.” She truly had no idea, but hazarded her best guess, shaking her head in uncertainty.

The man looked irate, furrowing his brow behind the veiled turban, the white paint around his eyes crinkling with his face as he asked, “What is the point? Do all of your people do this?”

Hali blinked rapidly for a moment, as if trying to comprehend what she’d just been asked, then shook her head to the negative, “N-no. I mean, the dragons are hardly my people in any event, but... some do. Where I was raised, it was viewed as a waste to mourn the dead overlong. It made us vulnerable. We didn’t have many enemies, per se, but there were those who would take advantage of it. We buried our dead, paid our respects, and then moved on. And... that was the end of it.”

“Our people have no such regard for the weak.” Weak. Not dead. Even the strong could, and would someday, day, she thought, but it was best not to challenge that notion.

She was distracted by the thought by a vision that raced through her head mere moments later. Hundreds of cloudkin, dead, on the ground, looking much like the beast she first slew at the behest of the strange men, and hundreds more people, marching over the corpses, all dressed in the same manner as the three she had seen time and time again.

Think...

The vision cleared, and she saw the man now facing the statue and he asked, “Would you feel anything if I destroyed it?” She furrowed her brow. Her immediate reaction was to question why she should even care - after all, it wasn’t hers - besides angering the dragons. However, the feeling inside her, that which had caused her immeasurable pain time and time again, stirred in anger, causing her to become annoyed.

“I don’t care,” she shrugged, then sighed, “But something does. I want it to be silent. I don’t understand these feelings it’s trying to force on me, and I don’t much appreciate them either. It’s annoying. I want to hurt it, to make it just shut up already.”

She detected the faintest trace of a wicked grin behind the man’s veil, his eyes crinkling around the edges slightly, and with a turn, he drew in aether and sent a beam of energy across the statue that cut it in half, the top half sliding off and crumbling to the depths.

When the statue was attacked, it was as though it targeted her very soul, and something cried out in agony, forcing her to double over in the existential pain that it had forced upon her before on multiple occasions. She hissed in pain, wincing, her whole body tensing as she fought back. Another vision overtook her.

A land much like the Dravanian stone around her spread out, red and volcanic. A longing began to crush her soul, a sadness of something forever lost. Countless statues and monuments, much like the one just toppled, crumbling into ruin beneath her. It made her want to scream in anguish and despair. No. Not her. The thing within her. These were not her feelings...

Feel...

The man turned back to her, and, without a word, withdrew a small bag, from which he drew an amulet, ever careful to hold it away from himself, not daring to touch the gem. When it was revealed, she felt as though her very soul was being pulled from her, and she drew back, eyes widening and teeth bared.

“If the Beast is too much for you,” he said, “It can come to an end here.”

Hali sneered in annoyance and pain, “Hells no. I’ve come this far, done this much, and I refuse to just give up over an annoyance. This is something I will master, so put that damned thing away. I am not making all this time and effort wasted.”

The man in blue looked satisfied, and he tucked the amulet back in its bag, the bag going beneath his robes, and the feeling disappearing as the Beast within her calmed, either for fear or from the miqo’te’s insuppressible willpower and the wall that was her absolute determination that kept her soul safe. Or... was it something else that helped her? She had felt another presence, unlike this “Beast” before, but it was gentle, comforting, steeling her against the assault on her very soul. She shook her head. It was of no consequence. She’d learn in time if it was another product of this magic.

“Your will is like stone, but how long until it begins to crack? Your final trial awaits,” the man before her said, turning and disappearing, the other nearby doing the same.

She was left alone in Mourn, but decided not to linger, making her way back to Tailfeather by way of another, longer Burrow spell that had her emerge just before its gates. Checking the crystal again, it had already begun to point to the southeast again, a hard pull, making her think of the Shroud. She resolved to rest for the day, then set off in the early evening the next day.

Back to where it all began, to the final trial... but she felt as though she still had fewer answers than questions.

#hali naras #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #rp #roleplay #balmung #aegir hlerson #bragi odinson #g&g #gold & glory #im blUE DABADEE

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