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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Witch”

Happy Saturday, everyone! Well, it's perhaps happier provided you didn't watch today’s episode lol. Getting through these 18 minutes felt like watching an extended version of a CinemaSins vid. I heard a little 'ding!' every time something nonsensical, contradictory, or just downright stupid happened. My mind became a pinball machine.

Which, in the interest of being fair as opposed to just snarky, only matters if you're looking for something resembling emotional depth in this show. RWBY, for all its faults, is enjoyable as a mindless spectacle. It's when you expect — or simply hope — for anything more that this very fragile house of cards comes tumbling down.

If it’s not clear already, today’s recap contains copious amounts of salt. Fair warning.

With that disclaimer out of the way, let’s dive in. Episode nine is titled "Witch," which is fitting since many members of our group go toe-to-toe against Salem herself. The narrative issues inherent in having your heroes fighting their final boss years before the series is meant to end might have been avoided if it weren't for Oscar's ridiculous, sacrificial attack... but we'll get to that.

We open with a sweeping shot of the Atlas battle, as hundreds of dead soldiers segue into endless grimm. Hold onto that image for a bit. At the end of this carnage is, of course, the mouth of the whale. We cut to Jaune, Ren, and Yang already safely inside.

"Well," says Yang, "that was harrowing."

I'm on the fence about this choice. On the one hand, yes, it's good that RWBY knows it can skip over extraneous scenes. We have NINE characters to keep track of and develop, fourteen if you count Ozpin, Maria, Winter, Ironwood, and now Whitley. Plus villains. There simply isn't time to show every insignificant moment... but was this insignificant? Obviously finding Oscar and escaping Salem's clutches is the true hurdle of this mission, but that doesn't mean getting through an entire army of grimm is in any way a cake walk. I'd be more willing to ignore this time skip if it weren't likewise presented as such a challenge for Winter's team. They have to "clear a path" to the whale, but our trio got there unscathed and unnoticed? The obvious implication here is that Ren just masked them the whole way — supported by his aura breaking later in the episode — but it still feels like we missed an important chunk of this task.

I'm nit-picking though. As said, I’m straddling the fence on this one and, given that, I'm inclined to settle on a, "Good job, RWBY. You're keeping the writing tight," if only because I don't have much else to praise about this episode. Throw the poor, struggling show a bone lol.

Now that they're inside, they realize they haven't the slightest idea how they'll find Oscar. “Like finding a needle in a giant…whale… why did we think this was a good idea?!” Because you and your friends are idiots who no longer bother to think about a situation before throwing yourself straight into it? This isn't me being mean to Yang, she literally says as much later on. Our heroes no longer get by on intellect, strategy, and skill, but rather plot armor and a staggering number of coincidences. For example, Ren.

Yang: Wow, it sure is lucky for us that on our way to this incredibly dangerous mission Ren inexplicably developed a new part of his semblance. Now he can not only mask peoples' emotions, see the true emotions that someone is feeling, pull thoughts out of their head about what they believe about a situation, but can also track someone across long distances through their emotions alone. Even that doesn't actually help us find Oscar, we just got lucky again when, in this maze of a whale, he ran right into us!

Me: So what were you going to do if this meta-world stopped giving you the most contrived solutions in Remnant history?

Yang: Die gloriously, I guess.

What Yang actually says is, "Okay. That's new!" and they enter the literal belly of the beast wielding a shield of convenience.

Jaune is also being awkward again because remember, RWBY doesn't know when to incorporate humor and when to treat a situation seriously. He reminds Ren not to "drain [himself]," he'll help him, and it's clear the scene is hinting at their earlier fight. There's a lot to unpack there, but I want to save it for the second conversation.

For now, we cut to Oscar, curled up in his cell, repeating stories to comfort himself. Yeah that's fine. I could use a broken heart right before Valentine's Day.

“She brushed off her bumps and bruises, for nothing hurt worse than the loneliness in her chest." It's a line from The Girl Who Fell Through the World, which Ozpin recognizes given that he's "lived through" a fair number of fairy tales. He immediately asks how Oscar is holding up — because he's a caring person! — and Oscar admits that he never understood why the girl of the tale was sad upon reaching home again. Now he does: she wasn't the same person anymore. I don't think the fact that Oscar has had both a metaphorical fall — leaving his farm to 'fall' into this war — and a literal one — falling through Atlas to unlock his magic — is lost on anyone. This is a nice allusion to our themes. Yang's speech to Salem later on? That’s something else entirely.

Storytelling done, Ozpin says he thinks "this plan to divide might have run its course” and it's time to try and find a way to leave. I'm sorry, I love my farm boy, but what plan? He didn't do anything. At least nothing that could remotely be termed an intellectual plot. Oscar convinced Ozpin to try and turn Hazel by telling him the world would end under Salem's rule and the only reason that worked is because the story decided to chuck out Hazel's entire character. You know, the one that hates Ozpin above all others, wants the world remade into a non-Academy horror show, can't understand that people make their own choices, is terrified of Salem, and has no reason to trust a prisoner he's currently torturing. Oscar's "plan" hinged on his writers erasing a great deal of work to build a new story that fits said “plan.” He didn't even get Emerald involved, she just — again, conveniently — eavesdropped outside their door at just the right moment.

To be clear, I'm not against a story being written to work in the hero's favor. Of course things are going to be convenient in a happy-ending tale. Someone manages to hold out just as long as they need to, a sword is lying just within reach, you, yes, happen to run into the one person you're desperate to find. This kind of stuff is reassuring, telling its audiences that sometimes things do work out for the best. It's enjoyable... but only provided the hero's entire success doesn't hinge on fate being shockingly kind to them. That's what RWBY has become. A world where Salem doesn't attack Mantle, Amity Tower is suddenly finished, the group can charge into any deadly situation they want to and bank on destiny twisting around itself to ensure they come out of it safely. A hero finding a convenient weapon nearby to defeat their enemy with is only reassuring after we've seen them implement a brilliant attack, struggle, nearly win, but then suddenly be faced with failure, necessitating that little push from coincidence. They earned it. The hero doesn't get to run in blindly and find a Defeat Bad Guy plot point gift wrapped for them at the first sign of trouble. They just die.

RWBY used to be a better written show because that's precisely Pyrrha's story. She charged a Maiden unprepared, without a single plan or hope for success, and she died. That's what happens in a dangerous, internally consistent world, but RWBY has since lost the second half of that formula.

I'm harping on this because this entire episode is built on that foundation of coincidence, something that shouldn't be happening at all, but especially not when you're pitting the heroes against Salem herself.

So yeah, it just gets worse from here.

Back to Oscar. Without the cane magic is the only weapon they have at their disposal, but he's reluctant to use it because every time he does, they merge more quickly.

They... do?

Okay, there are three major problems with this announcement:

I'm pretty sure we've only seen Oscar use magic once: creating that barrier to survive the fall through Atlas. That was the point of his near death experience, to unlock something that had previously been unavailable to him. Yet if he's only used it once, why is he so sure that it hurries the merge along? What's this "every time" business? This confusion could have easily been avoided if the show had just let Oscar use his magic this volume, tackling some other questions and gaps in the process. Let him use it to fight off the grimm in Mantle, giving him the opportunity to admit to at least Jaune, Ren, and Yang that Ozpin is back. He could have used some magic against the Hound with Ozpin's encouragement, answering the question of why he was entirely silent while the two of them got their ass beat. Give us a moment where Oscar uses his magic against Hazel, nearly escaping in the process, but is captured again at the last moment. Basically, his line makes it sound like magic has been this ongoing resource with an established downside when... it hasn’t.

Coinciding with all of the above, how is it that Oscar can suddenly use magic at will? Yeah, yeah, he unlocked it during the fall, but really? You open up the magic gates and from then on out it's as natural as breathing? This is the same issue with Ruby's silver eyes. The story gives these characters incredible powers, but never has them talking about how they work, let alone training them. They just exist, perfect in execution, as soon as the plot needs them. (See: the final shot of this episode.) At least Weiss had to practice her summoning for multiple volumes.

Finally, the question of how Oscar instinctively knows how to use magic could easily be answered with, "Well, he's kind of Ozpin now," but that would require the story to actually explain what the merge is. "We merge faster," Oscar says, but what does that mean? The Ozpin and Oscar we see in this scene are fundamentally indistinguishable from the Ozpin and Oscar who existed at his aunt's house, four whole years ago. They're still separate people, with one controlling the body and the other existing as a consciousness he can talk to. Nothing has changed. The show keeps insisting that Oscar is going through this deep and painful arc of losing himself to Ozpin... despite the fact that he has yet to lose a single bit of Oscar-ness. Has he changed? Well of course, but anyone going through these experiences is going to change. Remove the "merge" aspect and Oscar's confidence or power up is likewise indistinguishable from any of the other characters' developments. Nora is becoming more of an individual this volume. Ren is becoming more powerful in his semblance. Neither have an Ozpin to force that change, it just happens on its own. So what separates Oscar from every other character going through a formative experience? When is “I’m not the same person anymore” due to unnatural magic vs. just growing up?

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy our boy is getting more screen time — and that the cast is actually being kind to him now — but overall his arc is objectively terrible. He bought some clothes, told Ironwood he was as bad as Salem, told Hazel how to access the Relic, and then asked him not to be a villain anymore. Somehow these things are presented as significant moments of growth while the real questions surrounding his merge go unanswered.

“Honestly, I think you’re doing just fine on your own," Ozpin tells him, but he's not. God knows our boy is trying, but this is a moment where Ozpin's self-hatred (and the story's insistence that the younger generation is intrinsically better than the older) is blinding him to the situation. Oscar has made terrible decisions lately, in as much as he's been able to decide anything at all, and now he's rejecting escaping captivity because he's terrified of a concept he doesn't even understand yet. None of that is fine. Reassurance is one thing, but painting this situation as Oscar making better choices than he would with Ozpin's input is insane. He literally just decided to keep them in Salem's clutches indefinitely because something something magic is scary, I guess. Oscar doesn't need a, 'You're better than me' speech, he needs a reality check so they don't both die. Remember back in Volume 5 when Oscar, a brave but idiotic 14 year old, insisted on fighting someone entirely out of his league and Ozpin was like,

then saved him from getting his head crushed in like a cantaloupe? We need more of that. Our teenage heroes need guidance, but because RWBY keeps insisting that every adult they encounter is corrupt or incompetent, that hasn't happened in three volumes. They're just aloud to decide things like, “Let's tell our captor the Relic's password because UwU ~trust~” and then the story bends over backwards to make that work. Instead we could, you know, let characters learn that they can be wrong.

The snow scene was the beginning, but RWBY really went off the rails the day it let Qrow warn the group against stealing from and attacking an allied city, only for them to call him an idiot for doubting them. Now, Ozpin doesn't even get to warn Oscar about stupid decisions, he just agrees with them, reassuring and passive. Never mind the complication of whether Ozpin is even emotionally capable of providing guidance after they labeled him the worst thing to ever happen to them.

Why does RWBY keep ruining my faves 😔

Anyway, we’ve got to stay on track. Oscar has decided to just lie there but, luckily for him, Hazel's redemption — I use that term so loosely — has begun. He drags Oscar out of his cell before we cut to Winter.

She's leading a portion of Ironwood's army, trying to get things ready for when the bomb arrives. Neon and Flynt are a part of her team, sharing scared glances and trying to remain optimistic. It's a legitimately hard-hitting moment, striking that balance between horror and hope. Funny though, I wonder that RWBYJNOR would think of their friends fighting for evil Ironwood...

Marrow, continuing the tradition of insisting that our heroes be both adults and kids simultaneously, looks sadly at the soldiers heading into battle and goes, "But... they're just kids." I would like to remind everyone reading that Ruby is younger than them. Anyone who thinks that these teenagers shouldn't be fighting grimm — the thing they have been training to do as their professional career, during an unprecedented attack on their home — should not simultaneously be looking to the girl who is two years younger as his savior. (Something that, while not overt yet, is very much where Marrow is heading as he continually doubts the Ace Ops and looks to RWBY's group as his new, moral leaders.) I'm glad that, for once, this perspective is firmly called out. Elm arrives to tell him point blank that he needs to figure out his personal ethics later. It doesn't matter because there's an army of grimm out there and monsters aren't going to spare anyone, adult or child. Quit philosophizing and kill some already.

Back to Hazel where we get the doorway shot from our trailer. He's taken Oscar to the Relic, because of course he has. Do I really need to list how convenient this is too? Apparently, "the moment we move that thing, this place goes on high alert," but there’s no alarm for when Oscar is taken from his cell, they enter the Relic's room, or when they use it. What does a movement alert matter if someone can just waltz in and waste the last question themselves? Put some of those endless grimm in the room to guard it, Salem!

Just assume that I am, at any given point in this episode, letting out the longest sigh my lungs are physically capable of.

Emerald shows up, demonstrating both the convenience of everyone arriving when they need to, and the very real danger that Salem herself could come in and discover what they're up to. Hazel has Oscar summon Jinn, only to immediately say that “Actually, I think all my questions are answered now.”

I'm sorry, how does this answer any of Hazel's questions? His driving question was not, "Is the Relic actually a magical object capable of doing magical things?" but rather "Are you telling me the truth about Salem's plans to summon the Gods and destroy all of Remnant in her quest to finally die, thereby changing who I'm going to support in this war?" Seeing a naked, blue djinn does not answer that question.

Hazel's "redemption" is non-existent. He — we — learned about Salem's death wish despite how that contradicts previous lore, then he trusted Ozpin despite that contradicting his entire character, now he joins the heroes because, literally, he sees Jinn floating there. It’s bad enough that Hazel goes from clear villain to sacrificial hero in a matter of in-world hours, but we don’t even get a reason for why that change occurred.

Oh, there's also this:

So Jinn doesn't come out of her lamp unless someone intends to ask a question, but does it for Ruby because she's special, yet still reiterates that this won't happen again. Then Oscar summons her without intending to ask a question, she comes out anyway, confirms that none of them seek knowledge from her, and happily pops back inside her lamp because eh, it’s whatever.

If RWBY had any courage the three of them would be cursed now for toying with a powerful, magical object. Remember the days when Jinn was a little terrifying because it felt like she was warping her answers and we had no idea what she might do to someone who used her carelessly? When she felt like a djinn? Good times.

Or better times, at least.

So Good Guy Hazel and Good Gal Emerald promise to get Oscar out. Never mind all the horror they caused, the people they killed, and that for Hazel, at least, this defection is coming out of nowhere.

Anyone remember that Emerald orchestrated Penny's death? No? Just me?

As they leave it turns out Neo was camouflaged against the wall, because she was also precisely where she needed to be. Does everyone just periodically pop into the Relic room to see what’s going on? At least this time it's not working in the heroes' favor. Remember when I said it's beyond idiotic for Oscar to just hand out the Relic information to known enemies currently holding him captive and torturing him?

Yeeeeaah.

So Neo's got the Lamp. Funny how all of this could have been avoided if Ruby had just put it in the vault like she came to Atlas to do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

We return to our trio where Jaune and Ren need to rest because their aura is giving out. Good! These guys fought a battle, fought Neo, fought more grimm, fought the Hound, traipsed through the tundra, presumably fought through more grimm to get to the whale, and have been using both their semblances to look for Oscar. It's about time their reserves started to falter.

Jaune decides to scout ahead a bit, leaving Yang and Ren to talk about nothing of importance. I mean that seriously. Remember a few days ago when I spoke about how, if the snow conversation does come back up, Ren's points would be entirely ignored for a nonsensical “I’m glad we’re friends” speech? Remember how I also spoke about how every emotional beat now is entirely generic and you could replace any character with another and not a single thing would change? Yeah. This is both those arguments in one. Nothing is said about the points Ren made. His problems with how the group has been acting lately and the very real, very deadly consequences it has had are flat out ignored. We went from

"But these aren't the kinds of decisions we should be making because we have no idea what we're doing!"

"Forward, no matter what!"

in a matter of hours, with precisely zero insight into how Ren went from one perspective to the exact opposite. Kind of like Hazel. Because see, RWBY doesn't write arcs, it just writes one thing until it decides to switch it up for something else, with the opposite idea presented as a “resolution” or a “twist.” Our creators writes scenes they know the fandom is begging for without considering how to get a character to that place, let alone how to get them out of it. That's all Ren's speech was, the equivalent of moral fan service. Here's a glimpse of actual character depth and a morally gray situation... now forget it ever happened because we're back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Instead of working through the laundry list of issues Ren raised, Ren instead accepts Jaune's aura help — something they've been doing since Argus — and tells Yang it's okay to be scared. These moments are meaningless and, as said, could have been between anyone in our cast. Ren could have told Nora she doesn't have to use jokes to cover up that she's scared. Jaune could have reminded Ruby that she can depend on him. Yang could have tried to keep Blake and Weiss' hopes up. This scenes ignores the individuality of the characters, like the fact that they just fought over very different world views, to instead favor any dime-a-dozen moment of support. The number of times this volume has rejected the conflict and resolution the group needs for bland, generic reassurances staggering.

Also, apparently Jaune isn't scared at all? I don't think that's as good a thing as Ren seems to think...

Then Jaune immediately rounds the corner, terrified lol.

One of the seer grimm is on its way and he tells Ren to mask them. Apparently he had been masking them before — one of the reasons he's so tired now, trying to do two things at once — but it's only here that they go black and white again. Ren manages to keep it up for a little while, but his aura breaks before the seer passes and they're spotted.

Hark! A consequence!

That was well done. It makes sense and it adds to the stakes. We've seen the insane amount of fighting the group has done since Volume 7, we just established that they're at their breaking point, and then Ren's aura fails him right when he needs it the most. Add this to the miniscule pile of things that were well done this episode.

Salem runs into Emerald and Hazel, the former of which is acting very suspicious when asked if he's made any headway with Oscar. The seer's alarm interrupts them though and... okay. Was I the only one who cackled during this moment? Between Salem's voice acting and the fact that she just yeets herself down the hallway, it came across as really funny to me.

Either way, it is a bad situation. Our trio is trying to figure out what to do, to which Yang responds, "Do what we do best… charge blindly into danger!!”

Ren's aura is broken. Jaune barely has any left and it’s unlikely he could heal right now even if Ren had any aura to amplify. If Ren takes a single hit anywhere important he is dead.

Me, on my knees, surrounded by the ashes of the Hound, the last bit of serious storytelling we had: "For the love of God, the kingdom is on fire and simultaneously dying of cold. There's a grimm army decimating hundreds outside. Half their group is missing and they're wandering lost inside a devil whale, about to have the most powerful being Remnant has ever known personally try to kill them — can we please have their attitudes reflect that?"

The answer, in case you were wondering, is no.

Back to the bomb. Whatever scientists were given this task have completed it and Marrow watches as it's flown out towards the whale. "Come on, Juan" he whispers and I'm all, "Juan?" Apparently it's a callback to last volume when Marrow couldn't remember Jaune's actual name, but it took me hopping onto the RWBY wiki to remember that.

As death via explosion inches closer, the trio runs into Hazel and Emerald. Turns out though that Hazel is really Oscar, disguised through Emerald's semblance. Nice trick! Jaune immediately drops both weapons to hug Oscar and, while that's nice and all, it's also the stupidest thing he could possible do in enemy territory. Also, Oscar has been beaten up by the Hound, tortured with magic, and likewise beaten bloody by Hazel. I was hoping for a tender hug like the one Nora gave him, not a giant squeeze for more comedy purposes. It just feels like RWBY has no idea how to manage the tone of this volume, let alone the torture of a child...

There's the obligatory, "Why should we trust you?" from Yang regarding Emerald joining the team, to which Ren responds, "Because she's scared, just like us."

That doesn't prove anything. Literally everyone is scared right now. There is a war going on. I really cannot emphasize enough how RWBY throws out Deep™ sounding lines that are, upon inspection, absolutely nonsensical. Nora reminding Penny that there are different parts to her personhood, Hazel saying that all his questions have been answered, Ren announcing that Emerald is scared... it's all worthless chatter that has no bearing on their problems: How do I keep from being hacked? How do I know you're telling the truth? How do we know you're trustworthy after you spent years trying to kill us? But of course, because it's RWBY, Ren's announcement is treated as some sort of secret truth that everyone accepts. Emerald joins up.

As they head for an exit we return to Marrow who, frankly, is getting on my last nerve. I know the fandom loves him because he's clearly leaning towards Team RWBY, but does anyone actually listen to what he says? He starts yelling at Winter for sending in the bomb because the trio might still be alive in there, despite:

Seeing for himself the hundreds of soldiers that have fallen trying to keep Atlas safe

Knowing and hearing again from Winter that the only way to stop this carnage is to take out the whale. Given more time, the whole city falls

Sadly announcing to the world that children shouldn't have to fight in a battle, rather than just joining the fray and helping to keep those kids safe

How does Marrow think those kids are going to be able to stop fighting? How does he think he'll get a city to return to? It's no wonder that he's drawn to Ruby because both characters stand around twiddling their thumbs, mourning that things are bad, and blaming others for imperfect solutions rather than doing something to make the situation better. Marrow's disgust at Winter over the bomb is precisely the same as Ruby's disgust at Ironwood over Mantle: how dare you not have a plan that results in both victory for us and zero sacrifices? They want perfection which, yes, is an admirable trait, but their problem is they refuse to do anything until that perfection appears. They’re paralyzed, a trait that’s particularly dangerous when your story insists that perfection will never appear: it’s not a fairy tale. So they just continue to get mad at others for the fact that they live in an unfair world. You want that perfect solution? Think it up yourself. Otherwise, stand aside and let those coming up with something do what they can to make things better.

Marrow goes so far as to drag Weiss into things, trying to guilt Winter with the knowledge that she'll have to relate the death of her sister's friends back to her. Winter, because she's a badass who isn't in denial over the situation, tells him that yes, she will shoulder that responsibility. To Marrow's credit he backs off then, but man. RWBY has legitimate moral questions here — when is holding out for a few worth risking the many? — but they go about exploring it in the most frustrating way possible. I personally have no respect for the guy who wants to announce that Children In War Is Bad instead of, you know, using the power he currently has to protect those kids already neck deep in a battle.

Because John Mulaney remains relevant:

"There shouldn't be a horse in the hospital :( "

"We're WELL PAST THAT."

Marrow is the one going, "There shouldn't be kids in a war :( We shouldn't have to kill a few to save the whole kingdom :( " and everyone around him is like, "No shit, dude! But this is the hand we were dealt! You going to help us, or what?"

Literally all of these characters could have been so much more than what they currently are.

Except Winter. She's doing great.

Now for the final scene. Our group nearly manages to escape the whale, but is incapacitated by some sort of screechy power that Salem employs.

She contorts her body, stretching out her arms to snag Emerald, and the others have a brief, but intense skirmish. Jaune manages to block a blast of magic aimed at Ren with his shield — nice — and Yang dots Salem's face with a bunch of bombs before blowing her sky-high — double nice. Oscar shoots out some magic of his own because, yeah, I guess he can just do that now? It really feels like it came out of nowhere after eight episodes of being the punching bag.

Of course, Salem immediately reforms. She traps the group with grimm arms that come out of the whale, interrogating Ozpin about why he bothers to keep coming back. There's a very sad answer there of, "I don't," referring to his lack of choice in reincarnating to fight her.

Yang interrupts their little tet-a-tet to throw the question back in Salem's face, calling her out on her choices. A great idea but, as always, execution: "because something bad happened to you once upon a time? No one gets a fairy tale ending."

I’m sorry, but that dialogue had me cringing. Like I said before, way too on the nose. There's keeping with the fairy tale theme, and then there's shoving the viewer's face in it. More of Oscar's musings on how he relates to the protagonists of fairy tales, blurring the lines between storytelling and reality, which in turn encourages the viewer to consider how they see themselves in the RWBY cast. Less... whatever this is.

Yang goes on to talk about how many people Salem has taken from her, which upon reflection makes a certain amount of sense if you toss in all the people who are here, but changed somehow due to Salem's influence, as well as acquaintances who died as a result of her meddling: Raven is scared off, Tai suffers as a result, Pyrrha dies, Penny dies, Yang loses her arm and her school. I think the dialogue could have been revised to reflect that better though because what Yang implies is that Salem has killed countless of her loved ones, yet what she says is, "Summer Rose. My mom." Honestly, for the few seconds this exchange was happening my thoughts weren't even on Summer. Yang calls Salem out for killing loved ones and my brain went, "Pyrrha??"

That's how little they've done with Yang and Summer. I know in the past I've argued that RWBY has a "better late than never" situation going on, that I would praise them for making the right writing choices even if they arrive years too late... but now that we're here, I find that it's a hard problem to overlook. Summer is Yang's mom? When's the last time we heard that? Volume 2? Whenever the conversation with Blake was. Since then Yang has called Raven "Mom," focused on that emotional connection (or lack thereof), was excluded from the conversation with Qrow, comforted Ruby after she was blindsided by Salem's taunt, and otherwise hasn't mentioned Summer at all. There is no foundation for this accusation except a few lines about getting cookies as a child and the fact that we're tossing references in now makes me worried that we'll indeed get a grimm!Summer reveal. Better remind the audience that she exists before the twist arrives! Honestly, as much as a part of me wants to praise RWBY for trying to get things back on track, moments like this just ring hollow now. They waited years and now it’s too late. It doesn't help that this is the episode where we shrug off Ren's speech. What will Yang's cutting admission amount to based on this trend? Probably nothing. Summer will become Yang’s mom again in another six seasons.

Salem, obviously, doesn't care. The real Hazel arrives and she orders him to take Oscar back to his cell. Instead, he gives him his cane with a whispered, "No more Gretchens, boy."

Behold, another meaningless line. Hazel hates Ozpin for "forcing" Gretchen on a mission and "getting" her killed. The whole point of his villainy is that he doesn't understand the concept of choice and that bad things can happen to good people with no one able to prevent it. Not every loss has a responsible party attached (outside of, you know, Salem/the grimm). So what is he even demanding here? No more huntsmen schools? That's what you wanted Salem for. No more "forcing" people to fight for you? Ozpin never did that in the first place. Or is it just a strange promise that no one else will die here? RWBY seems to be under the impression that they can just name drop dead family members — Summer, Gretchen — and that's that. Emotional depth created, never mind a lack of buildup or clarity.

Then Hazel punches Salem across the room and she releases every single hero from their bonds. See the theme of this episode: convenience. Hazel shoves a whole bunch of dust crystals into his shoulders and yells that he's doing what Gretchen would have wanted, clearly sacrificing himself so that the others can escape. The battle between him and Salem is pretty decent. I enjoyed the dust vs. magic creativity and the sheer damage Salem can take before reforming. This fight really showcases how not human she is.

It does, however, bring into question Hazel's reveal about her needing an hour to heal at the longest. I mentioned how unlikely it would be that our heroes would get the chance to "kill" her multiple times, yet here we are, just a few episodes later. They got that opportunity and... does it matter? Salem's reforming doesn't appear to slow down at all, despite her head getting obliterated at least three times, so at what point does she need longer than a few seconds to heal? If this was meant to be a potential weakness the group would eventually exploit, we needed to see it here, both for that setup and to keep it consistent with Hazel's story.

Regardless, they fight and at first it looks like a pretty straight-forward sacrifice on Hazel's part, giving the group their chance to escape. Except... Oscar.

"She'll just come after us," he tells Jaune, turning away from him to fight.

I need a list for this:

Of course she's going to come after you. This is not some shocking revelation. At no point has anyone thought that escaping the whale is the answer to all their problems, it just creates one less problem to deal with. Namely, the problem of "Our ally is captured, being tortured, and may give up important intel to the enemy. Oh, also he's about to be blown up with a bomb." Salem coming after them doesn’t matter. What matters is making her plans as difficult as possible as you work to come up with more solutions of your own. This is just a smaller version of the Ironwood conflict: “Well, Salem will just follow Atlas into the sky so it’s useless to attempt escape, or to buy ourselves time.” It’s really not. I know I’ve used this ridiculous comparison before, but if you’re ever chased by a horror movie serial killer hell-bent on your destruction and your reaction to this problem is, “Why run? He’ll just chase us. The only possible choice is to fight him with a 99% chance of our death,” then I beg you to re-evaluate things.

What was the point of coming to rescue Oscar if he was just going to stay behind? The whale is about to be blown up by a bomb and the trio risked their lives ten times over to get to him. If I were them I would be pissed. We went through all that to get you out and now you’re refusing to leave when we have a chance? Thanks for that.

Same with Hazel. Not that I care about the guy, but if I was sacrificing myself for others to escape I'd be pretty annoyed at them randomly deciding not to do that.

What does Oscar even think he's going to do? Kill the immortal witch? The entire point of our series is that they can’t do that (yet).

However, if he is able to do something significant via Ozpin's magic, why didn't Ozpin do that generations ago? Somehow I don't think a younger Ozma closer to the height of his power was in a worse position to attack Salem than a tortured, aura-less kid who unlocked his magic yesterday. The more RWBY reveals about Salem, the more I go, “Okay, but why didn’t his happen [insert any number of years] ago?”

Did Jaune actually leave? I assume he's just grabbing an airship or something before coming back to drag Oscar away, but seriously where did he go?

There's no way I can approach this scene without throwing up my hands and going, "What? WHY?" Which is a real shame because we finally get to see a bit of what the cane does and it’s... precisely what Ozpin's magic has always done? I mean, we saw that green shield five years ago and now there's a giant white beam. Okay.

If the beam just hits Salem with Generic Magic Power then there was never anything secret about the cane, it’s just, you know, Ozpin’s weapon. If the cane does something significant to hurt her we're left with the question of why it took literal generations to use it. Nothing is making sense to me and the only way I can think to salvage this scene is if Jaune runs back in, snags Oscar like a sack of potatoes, and runs out yelling about how he's clearly suffering from a concussion because what are you trying to accomplish here?

It doesn't help that this moment feels... final. Hazel has managed to hold Salem in place. Oscar has unlocked his cane and lands some mega hit right before Hazel passes out and looses his hold. Not only does this feel like a scene that should be at the end of the volume (we've still got five episodes), but also the end of the series. RWBY is building Salem into an unbeatable enemy by giving her more and more powers, and simultaneously eliminating the stakes by having our currently weakest character (in terms of exhaustion/injuries/aura/training) landing a shot like that. Why would you nerf Salem's threat level like that in the middle of a volume? Especially with a tool our group has had available from the start? If the cane does damage, maybe lead with that in the, “Here’s why we should stay and fight” office conversation.

I assume that Oscar's hit will obliterate Salem to the point where both he and Hazel have time to escape, or he obliterates both of them (“Do it”) and that's somehow presented as a better choice than just running while Salem is captured, or the bomb will interrupt things somehow... but it's just so shoddily done. At the very least, if they were going to have Oscar refuse to let someone fight alone, have it be an actual friend he's staying to assist. Having Oscar refuse his own rescue to help Hazel has more than one problem attached to it. We can say what we want about RWBY's themes of forgiveness, but this guy was torturing him just a few hours ago while serving Remnant's version of the devil. Just let him sacrifice himself and move on.

And that's where we end. Oscar powering up, the cane getting all magic-y, and him shooting a crazy big blast that engulfs both Salem and Hazel. I can't believe how not excited I am about my farm boy doing something badass, but here we are.

Overall I think this episode was way worse than last week's. We absolutely had problems in "Dark," particularly when it came to the Hound and the group's blind devotion to Ruby, but at least those moments were cushioned by an otherwise decent episode. "Witch" felt like I was watching something closer to a parody of RWBY, one deliberately poking fun at the fandom's desires: erase all conflict for awkward silly times, your favorite villains are instantly good now, the heroes go toe-to-toe with the main antagonist because why not, throw a bunch of magic in there for good measure, and wrap it all up in some over the top "this isn't a fairy tale" lines. I can see the pieces of a much better episode here — Emerald sneaking Oscar out with her semblance, Neo snagging the relic, Flint and Neon, Hazel attacking Salem — but it simply didn't come together.

I know I said this last time, but I have no idea what we're going to do for another five episodes. Salem slowly reforming from bomb damage as the group tries to keep Penny from opening the vault? The grimm attack halted with the whale gone so Qrow can go after Ironwood? The longer this volume runs, the more I think it was a mistake for them to introduce Salem as a fightable antagonist now. RWBY doesn't know what to do with her besides have her inevitably fall in the final season, so until then she's left being stupid (Relic), passive (Mantle), or, likely, written out of the story temporarily so the heroes can turn their attention towards smaller conflicts and weaker foes. They literally can’t beat Salem yet, but they can’t focus on other problems when she’s around without coming across as negligent, so if you have to find ways to erase her to make room for that... what was the point of bringing her here in the first place? We could have established that Salem is bound to her realm and had her send the Hound and whale to attack Atlas. There, all the fun parts of the volume without her complicated presence.

Well, the next five weeks will certainly be interesting, at the very least...

Until next time 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby witch #mymetas #rwby recaps

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hymn2000 · 5 years ago

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Where The Darkness Ends - MCU AU fanfic - C6

Story summary: The concept of having a baby has been more of an idea for a long time now. Ideal candidates for a three-person baby, Loki and Tony have finally, after many Peter-based setbacks and challenges, got to the point of being tested. Now, they just have to wait for the results before they can move on to the next stage.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2 3 4 5

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family stuff, mental health stuff, hurt/comfort, hospital/medical stuff, fertility stuff, IVF, potentially some medical inaccuracies, alcohol misuse

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 6 - A Couple Of Vodka And Tonics

Thor knew from experience what damage staying inside for days on end could do for a person, so when Peter woke up in the morning, he told him to get dressed and get his shoes on. Peter did as he was told, and joined Thor by the front door when they were both ready to go.

“Where are we going?”

“I need a few things from a couple of shops, and they’re right near a game arcade. I thought you might enjoy that”

“Oh!” Peter said. “I haven’t been to an arcade for ages. Well, not here, at least. We go to them on holiday when we go to the beach. They’re kinda different though. Some of the games are similar, but not all of them”

“It gives you something to do if nothing else” Thor said. “Come along. We’ll walk and get breakfast on the way there”

“Ok” Peter said. “What kind of breakfast?”

“Well, what would you like?”

Peter thought about it while Thor locked the door and they went down the stairs onto the street. At first he really wasn’t sure, but then the more he thought about it...

“Bagels” Peter said. “I kinda fancy the ones we have at school, and I know I can’t have those. But there’s a whole bunch of places that sell bagels in town. I know you can just get one with cream cheese, and that’s a good thing. Especially if you get a coffee too”

“Do your parents let you drink coffee now?”

“Well, they do when I’m out. I don’t know why. I guess dad thinks a cappuccino or a latte or whatever is less coffee-like than the stuff he drinks. Or the instant stuff”

“An interesting take”

Peter shrugged. “I guess it is. I kinda just drink my chai tea, especially nowadays. I’ve kinda been in to it ever since daddy first introduced me to it. So that’s a pretty long time now”

“It is rather. My, it feels like almost a hundred years ago. It’s been a long decade”

Peter nodded slightly. “Dad’s gonna take me out for tea tonight. We’re not gonna be out too late, are we? Just he always gets to yours at seven, so...”

“We’ll be back in plenty of time for that, don’t you worry”

Peter breathed out, and nodded. “Good. I’d feel awful if we got back late and kept him waiting or something”

Thor rested a hand on the boys head. “Don’t you worry. I’ll make sure we’re back in time”

They went to the arcade first. Peter felt a little unsure at first, but he liked being with Thor, and he didn’t want to annoy him by changing his mind or being awkward. They had a little wander, and Peter stopped by one of the big shooting games with chunky plastic blue and pink gun shaped controllers.

“Ooh, can we play this one?” he said. “These are pretty fun”

“We can play whatever you like” Thor said, slotting a coin into the machine and picking up the pink gun controller.

“Wait, is it ok if I’m pink?”

“Ok” Thor said, swapping places with him and picking up the blue gun instead.

They got into the game pretty quickly, and Peter found himself concentrating enough to forget about his current predicament for a while.

“I used to come here with Ned” Peter said. “Ages and ages ago, even though it wasn’t really our area. We used to come quite a lot. It’s changed since then, though. New games and stuff. We got the high score on this old pinball machine, and I don’t think it was ever beaten. At least, not as far as I know”

“Maybe we could find it and have a look. Pinball isn’t that old, is it?”

“It kinda is, I think” Peter said. “They’re pretty retro. There used to be a pinball game on old computers. It was on some of the old models I used to have at the flat. I used to spend hours playing it. I was pretty good, but I mainly played because I liked the noises it made. It was kinda nice”

“You don’t really go in for that kind of thing any more”

“No, not really. I guess because I got so depressed after May died, and there’s a bunch of things I never picked up again after everything that happened. I’m not really sure there’s anything I miss anymore. Aside from Ned, maybe. But even then, that’s only when I think about it for too long” he lowered the gun, looking at the end score flashing up on the screen. “I always feel like everyone’s leaving me behind”

“Why’s that?” Thor asked, setting his controller down.

“Well. My parents died when I was little. I don’t remember them, but still. And then my uncle died. I do remember him, but the memories are starting to go pretty fuzzy. And then Liz moved away. We’re friends now, and we keep in touch, but even so. And then May died. I think that one hurt the most” he turned the gun over in his hands and then carefully set it down on its stand. “Then it was Ned, cutting me out of his life. And now my dads are at home while I’m at yours. That was horrible in a different way. It made me think of that bit in The Fox and The Hound, you know, like, when the old lady puts the fox in the car and he’s all excited but then she notices she’s sad and he doesn’t know why, and then she takes him to the woods and leaves him there and he doesn’t understand, and then he gets all scared and rained on. It felt like that... Have you seen that film?”

“Once” Thor said. “It made your daddy cry. He used to cry at lots of films”

“He still does. He cries at books too. And music”

“He can get very emotional” Thor said. “Do you want to play this one again?”

Peter shook his head. “Let’s find something else”

Peter stopped in front of the old pinball machine. The top ten high scores were displayed on the screen. There, still in first place, was ‘Peter and Ned’. Peter’s heart thudded as he looked at it. He’d hoped that, if the machine was still there, the score had been beaten. That way it wouldn’t feel so much like a painful memory. But there it was, evidence after the fact. It felt strange seeing it. But it had been like that for a long time, Peter and Ned, find one and find the other. It was that horrible meeting in the cafe with the blue curtains and broken neon sign that had been the tipping point. Or, maybe it was all the texts he didn’t respond to. He wasn’t really sure any more. It had been so long. Too long. He couldn’t really remember. But he knew that deep down, under all of it, losing Ned still hurt.

Thor put a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Are you ok?”

Peter swallowed and looked up at him. “Let’s go and have a look at those claw games. All the arcades we went to on holiday had those play till you win ones”

Thor nodded slightly. “Ok”

They had a look at all the claw machines, but none of them were the prize every time ones that Peter was hoping to find. He pouted.

“That’s no good. I can’t do the normal ones; I always lose”

“I’m ok at them” Thor said. “What do you want?”

Peter thought for a moment, and then shrugged. “I don’t know”

Thor turned and slotted a coin into one of the machines. Peter leant against him, watching. Thor missed completely the first two times, but on the third try he caught a funny smiling toy monkey. On the fourth go, he dropped a toy parrot into the prize return. On the fifth and final go, he got a fluffy toy rabbit with a soulful expression and soft little fluffy tail.

Thor picked the three toys up out of the prize door and held them out to Peter.

“Take your pick”

“You’re amazing!” Peter said, carefully taking the toy rabbit from him. “I like this one... Thank you”

“You’re welcome. You can have all of them if you like”

“I think you should keep the other two. They can go on your windowsill with those teddies daddy got for you”

“Good idea” Thor said, putting the monkey and parrot in his bag. “How about one of those racing games?”

Peter smiled. “Ok!”

They went over and jumped into the plastic seats at one of the racing games and put some money in. The loud revving and music started up, and Peter couldn’t help but laugh. It felt good to do something totally childish and fun for once.

They spent a good hour or more messing about in the arcade, and Peter had a great time. He soon forgot about everything that was troubling him, and instead got lost in the little bit of excitement of something different, grabbing Thor’s arm and dragging him over to this game and that game, his little rabbit tucked under his arm all the while.

When they left the arcade, Peter was still giggling, giddily happy, and was content to wander round the shops with Thor without making any kind of fuss. He felt good, and Thor was generous and bought him a few more treats. He had a feeling it was more of a sympathy thing than anything else, despite Thor not being the kind of man to go in for that kind of thing. Still, Peter wasn’t complaining. It was just good to be able to do something nice.

They had a late lunch before heading back to the flat. Peter helped Thor sort out all of the shopping, and then put his phone on to charge.

“I think I’m gonna have a bath” he said. “Dad said we’d go somewhere nice. I’m sure he packed some of my nicer clothes. Maybe I should iron something”

“I’ll do it for you if you choose some” Thor said. “There’s no rush; it’s still fairly early”

“It’s nearly four!” Peter said. “This day has gone quickly. I’m glad we only had a little lunch. Imagine if we got to the restaurant and I didn’t have an appetite!”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. Go and have your bath”

“Ok, ok. I’ll pick out my clothes first and leave them on my bed. Are you sure you’re ok with ironing them?”

“Certain” Thor said. “Run along now. Remember to turn the whistle to the taps”

Peter laughed slightly. Thor had one of those baths with a shower build in above it, and he’d made the mistake of trying to run a bath without turning the lever before, and it wasn’t a mistake he really wanted to repeat.

“I will. Right, I’ve wasted enough time. I’m gonna go and have my bath”

Peter had a long bath, and he felt better for it. He took his time washing his face and hair and body and scrubbing his nails. He knew Tony wasn’t feeling well right now, so maybe seeing his son seemingly well taken care of would help ease the burden a bit. Besides, if they were going somewhere nice, Peter wanted to look the part.

He dried himself thoroughly, although there was only so much he could do about his hair, which remained quite damp. Still, he combed it out and decided that since it was no longer dripping wet, it would be fine.

Thor had ironed his chosen clothes to perfection, and set them carefully on the bed. Peter took his time a little, applying deodorant and a bit of body spritzer and cologne. He checked the time and saw it was already six o’ clock. Well, at least he had another hour to continue getting ready. He bit his thumb, wondering if he should wait and get dressed in a little while.

There was a knock on the door.

“Just a minute!” Peter yelped. He quickly pulled on his dressing gown to cover his dignity. “Yeah?”

The door opened.

“I thought you might want a drink” Thor said, holding a mug out to him.

“Oh! Thank you” Peter said, taking the mug and taking a quick sip.

“Now, are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

“I’m sure. Dad’s taking me out for tea, remember? I wanna save myself. Besides, we had a late lunch”

“True” Thor said. “Well, drink your tea at least. I’ll leave you to finish getting ready. Anything else you need before I go?”

“No, I think I’ve got everything” Peter said. “Thank you”

Peter took his time drinking his tea before getting dressed. He was careful to tuck in his shirt and straighten his collar so Tony wouldn’t do it for him. He found the one pair of good shoes he had with him and gave them a quick brush before slipping them up and neatly lacing them. Finally, he pulled on his blazer and looked at himself in the mirror. Well, he thought he looked ok. He looked smart, at least, and clean. Which was just about what he was going for.

Peter checked his coat was hung up by the front door, ready to go. He checked the time. 6.45pm. Wow, the time had slipped away quite quickly. Only fifteen minutes until Tony would arrive. Lovely. He was primed and ready. He straightened is jacket.

“Peter?”

Peter spun round. “Oh! Hi, uncle Thor”

“You look good, little one. Very cute”

“Thank you” Peter beamed. “I’m gonna sit here and wait for dad”

“Ok, well I’ll just be in the other room if you need anything”

“Ok, thanks, uncle Thor”

Thor left him to it, and Peter sat down on the wooden chair in the hallway near the front door. He sat up straight with his feet together and his hands on his knees, the way some of the teachers at school told him to. He kept his eyes fixed on the door, and he waited.

And waited.

He checked his watch. Seven fifteen. He frowned slightly and looked back at the door. He waited some more.

And he waited.

And waited.

Seven forty-five.

Eight fifteen.

Eight forty-five.

Nine o’ clock.

Peter took his phone out of his pocket. He had no new messages. He put it back and looked at the door again. Waiting.

“Peter?” Thor said gently.

Peter didn’t look at him, his eyes still fixed on the door. Thor rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Peter, you need to think about going to bed now”

Peter twitched and then turned to him properly. “No! Dad’s taking me out”

“It’s nearly ten o’ clock, little one” Thor said. “It doesn’t look like he’s coming”

“But he said he would!” Peter protested. “He promised! Near enough”

“Peter. It’s late. It’s time to go to bed”

“No!” Tears sprung to Peter’s eyes. “No, I’m not going to bed! What if dad comes and I’m asleep?! We’re going out!”

“If he comes while you’re in bed, I’ll wake you up straight away” Thor said. “But look at the time, Peter. I think you need to accept that he’s not coming. It’s time to call it a night”

Peter looked at him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew he was right. He’d been waiting for more than three hours. He wasn’t quite sure how to react. Part of him wanted to shake his head and sit defiantly where he was and refuse to move. Part of him wanted to throw himself on the floor and scream and kick and shout. And part of him wanted to go to his room and get undressed and crawl into bed and cry.

Thor went to check on Peter at around half ten. Peter was curled up on the duvet, crying into a pillow. His clothes were neatly folded on the chair, ready to go if they were needed. Thor sighed sadly and went and sat down on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on the boys bare shoulder.

“I know, sweetheart” he said. “I know”

Peter slowly sat up and held an arm out to him. Thor pulled him close and rocked him gently while he cried.

After Peter had finally fallen asleep, Thor went through to the living room and picked up the phone.

“I’m sorry, but the person you have called is not available. Please leave a message after the tone”

Thor growled in annoyance. “Tony, it’s Thor. What the hell happened tonight? You could have at least let us know you weren’t coming. Poor little Peter waited for you for hours, and he’s been crying his eyes out. If you could only see the poor hurt look on that boys face! I know you’re upset and you’re having a tough time, but how dare you let him down like that? You’d better have a good excuse ready for when you come and see him tomorrow, because a simple sorry isn’t going to cut it”

Tony listened to Thor’s message a couple of times over. The sound of the phone had woken him up, and he’d waited for it to ring out before picking it up. He looked at the time and groaned.

He hadn’t forgotten. Not exactly.

He’d had a hard day. It had been a weird day, very fuzzy and confusing. But that was mainly because of the copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed.

It hadn’t been the plan. True, he and Loki had gone overboard the previous night, and slept late as a result. They were going to try to sort things out today. But they were too depressed. Loki was still tired, so he went to his own room and went to sleep again. Tony couldn’t sleep, and the more he looked around, the more he noticed how good those dregs of alcohol looked. There was barely a shot left in a lot of the bottles around him, and wasting them seemed pointless. He just finished the few leftover bits. But then he wandered about, feeling lost, and still feeling drunk, and he kept thinking about the clinic, and the baby they’d planned for, and their little boy, and the horribleness that was reality. And he was thirsty. There was a half-empty bottle of vodka next to the sink in the kitchen. It seemed to do the trick. At least, it did at first. But then that bottle was empty, and he still wanted more. So he had more.

And more.

And then he’d fallen asleep.

And then his phone had woken him up. He listened to Thor’s message a third time as he lay on his stomach on the bed. He sighed, and send Peter a text.

‘I’m so sorry, kiddo. Something came up. Love you lots xxx’

He didn’t feel great about it, but he was too fatigued to dwell on it. He turned his phone into Do Not Disturb mode, rolled over, and fell back asleep.

Tony spiralled. It just happened. He didn’t bother trying to fight against it or think about how bad an idea it was. He didn’t have to work if he didn’t want to, and he didn’t. He just wanted to stay at home and numb his feelings. The more he drunk, the less he cried. It was hard to overthink when he was fuzzy with alcohol and weak from not eating properly.

It seemed no time at all before the days all melded in to one and a week had passed. He didn’t leave the house. He didn’t reply to anyone’s messages. He wouldn’t even speak to Loki a lot of the time. Loki was too hurt to be of much use to anyone, and there was only so much he could do for Tony when he was like this. He tried, but he didn’t really get anywhere. He wasn’t giving up, but he wasn’t going out of his way to sort him either. He couldn’t. He spent a lot of time talking to Jo Jo, trying to clear his head enough to at least feed himself and wash his hair, if nothing else.

Tony didn’t seem to notice. He was quite happy to drink himself into a stupor, day after day. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He spurned Loki’s suggestions of having Li Allen visit, or to go to a therapist, or a support group, or have a doctor come to see him. He was drinking too much to think straight, or make any effort at any type of recovery, and in his mind, he was perfectly fine just doing his own thing. One thing he did know, however, was that he didn’t want anyone interfering.

On the tenth day, Loki watched his husband washing down a packet of biscuits with a bottle of vodka, and he felt so tired and worn down and hopeless. He’d been trying to do things the right way, to come to terms with his infertility and the loss of the baby that never was, but he didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. So he picked up a bottle of Archers and started drinking too.

And all the while this was going on, every afternoon, at Thor’s flat, Peter would refuse to eat. Every evening, Peter would have a bath and get himself dried and dressed up, shoes and jacket on, ready to go. And every evening, at six thirty sharp, he would sit on the wooden chair in the hallway, hands on his knees and eyes on the door, waiting for his dad. And every night at ten o’ clock, Thor would put a hand on the boys shoulder, and he’d be forced to haul himself up and go to his room. And he’d get undressed and fold his clothes carefully and put them on the chair. And then he’d turn the lights out and crawl into bed and sob and howl and wail until he’d eventually cried himself to sleep.

#my writing #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #frostiron #irondad and spiderson

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giftofshewbread · 6 years ago

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PTSD Versus My Hope of Forever

: By Jonathan Brentner Published on:November 2, 2018

My expectations of Jesus’ imminent appearing and a joyous eternity with Him are not simply things about which I enjoy writing; they are deeply personal to me. They provide an incentive to keep using my gifts to serve the Lord amidst disappointments, failures, and even fierce opposition.

My hope of forever also keeps my perspective balanced between now and forever by reminding me that eternal realities are so much more valuable than the fleeting things of this life. That, however, was a lesson I learned the hard way!

It took the Lord working through much pain and chaos in my life to change my earthbound outlook on life and through that to put me on the path of healing in my battle with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).

I am not an expert on PTSD (far, far from it). I share my experiences so that I might help others who may also be struggling with lingering anxieties and deep wounds from their past.

My Nightmarish Experiences While a Pastor

I am not a veteran of war and I fully realize that survivors of combat experience much more severe PTSD symptoms than I can imagine. My struggles have deepened my empathy for those men and women who bravely served our country facing the nightmarish terrors of war and now suffer the consequences.

My nightmare occurred during my second pastorate. Everything went well for a couple of years, and then everything changed as I encountered harsh criticism regarding my preaching and ministry. Although I tried to improve, it seemed as though, the harder I tried to please my critics, the more mistakes I made and the opposition grew more aggressive.

One of the older women in the church voiced the disapproval of several in the church with these biting words: “You’re ministry is a joke!” She repeated this accusation after countless evening services making sure everyone heard her. Some in the church defended me, but that did not deter her loud outbursts that still ring in my ears.

The opposition at church added financial pressure to my predicament; some stopped giving at the insistence of those who believed I had failed as a pastor. This intensified the pressure I felt to make things happen (never a good motivation to say the least). The harder I tried to bring about the required church growth, the more I failed.

The financial woes at church added considerable stress to an already tense situation at home. My wife had earlier fallen into a deep depression with major mood swings. I tried to encourage her, but my efforts fell far short. I did not understand what was happening or why she had become so angry with me in such a short amount of time.

I felt like a ball in a pinball machine bouncing between angry outbursts at home and hostility at the church. As the clanging of each bounce grew louder, I became increasingly fearful of my future. However, rather than face my anxieties, I buried them deep within me. Somehow I would make everything work and come out on top. That did not happen.

As opposition to my ministry intensified, I resigned from the church and continued working at a factory, a job I had begun over a year earlier as attendance at the church had dwindled.

Although I loved preaching about prophecy, I valued my success as a pastor over my life in eternity. As a result, I barely survived the trauma of being forced to leave the job I dearly loved.

Months after my resignation, my wife admitted to a lengthy romance with my closest friend and my strongest advocate amidst my turmoil as a pastor. He had stopped by many times to encourage me during my turmoil as a pastor, and now he had betrayed me.

This disclosure stunned me as nothing else could have done. I remember long walks crying out to the Lord, nights without sleep but full of tears, and deep, piercing emotional pain I believed would never end. Even at work, I often could not stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks.

I wanted to run far, far away from God, from His people, and from everything life seemed to be. Looking back, I realize it was my unwavering belief in Jesus’ resurrection that kept me from running; I knew I had nowhere else to go to find life.

A Respite from the Grief

As the shock wore off, I returned to school at The University of Iowa the following year to pursue an MBA degree. My emphasis in finance and accounting proved to be a good fit for me.

Through a series of promotions during the next several years, I moved up from a second shift data entry operator to a position as Senior Financial Analyst at the company I had begun working at while in school. I found surprising enjoyment in being a number cruncher; I loved my new career of managing the finances for various government contracts.

I soon forgot about the ugliness of my past as I pursued success in the business world.

My walk with the Lord gradually deepened during this time. I continued to write adult Sunday school curriculum for David C. Cook, something I started during my final year as a pastor (and continue to this day).

During this time of spiritual renewal, however, I remained unaware of the powerful fears that raged below the surface of my consciousness, waiting to ambush me at the worst possible time.

Terrors in the Night

Many years later, I met a woman whom I thought was the answer to my loneliness. She was not. Our marriage got off to a rocky start and never recovered. My wife’s discontentment with me caused a renewal of past anxieties inside me that caused much conflict in our relationship.

My counselor at the time diagnosed my symptoms as PTSD; he said my panic attacks stemmed from unresolved fears from long ago, especially during the tumultuous years of my second pastorate and conflict at home. Remarriage and the problems in our relationship had reopened and aggravated old wounds buried inside me.

It was the perfect storm. I came into the marriage with buried anxieties from my past, and my wife entered with high expectations stemming from deep wounds in her previous marriage. My struggles shattered her trust in me; her angry response to my issues and her frequent verbal abuse inflamed my PTSD symptoms. She wanted what she had with her previous husband, which I could not give her.

She spoke often of her desire to leave me. For more than a year, I resisted her pleas for a separation. Eventually, however, I realized I had no other choice but to go along with her plan that we sell our home and live separate lives.

As the turmoil at home grew, my panic attacks intensified. At times, these assaults sprang up out of nowhere. I remember feeling completely peaceful one night as I fell asleep. Then, at 3 a.m., I woke up overwhelmed in a state of great terror. What was happening to me? How could I feel so fearful apart from any conscious worry or threat?

On this particular occasion, I battled the anxiousness with Scripture and prayer for an hour before I again felt the Lord’s peace in my heart. I also began to recognize the devil’s role in these attacks as he sought to take advantage of my weakness that night.

A Song Restores My Eternal Focus

During this time, I attended a Steve Green concert. As I walked into the auditorium that evening, I knew my life was over. Thoughts of my failures as a pastor and husband plagued me night and day.

I will never forget, however, the way God spoke to me that night at the concert. As Steve Green introduced one of his songs, In Brokenness You Shine, I heard the Lord speak these words into my heart, “Jonathan, this is for you.” After that, it seemed as though the crowded auditorium became strangely vacant and Steve was singing only to me.

The lyrics pierced my soul that evening and ignited the process through which the Lord calmed my fears and healed the deep wounds of my heart. Jesus caused hope to come alive in my heart again just as the words to In Brokenness You Shine said He would do.

My renewed anticipation of a joyous forever seemed more than enough to get me through this life even if my circumstances never improved or even got worse. After the concert, I wrote about my hope of eternity and how that eclipsed my feelings of despair and fears regarding my earthly future.

It was not that any of my beliefs regarding my future hope changed; they hadn’t. However, I learned to give eternal realities more weight than my troubles – something Paul wrote about in Romans 8:18. As I shifted my ultimate hopes to forever, the Lord opened my heart to His healing touch.

It still took time for the Lord to heal the deep wounds of my past that continued to cause the middle of the night attacks. I later read a book written by John Eldredge entitled Wild at Heart. The Lord used the words of this book to give me a strategy for dealing with the devil’s assaults.

Rather than flee from the fears of my past, I stood my ground, asking the Lord for insight into the wounds causing them.

I remember one night in particular when the Lord used a significant panic attack to reveal the nature of my deepest wound: a long-held inner conviction of being unlovable, unworthy of love, and as a result unwanted by others. This wound began during the bullying I experienced in high school and deepened significantly with the betrayal I felt during the time of my second pastorate as everything caved in on me. My attacks were but a symptom of deep wound inside my soul.

This disclosure became a significant turning point as my panic attacks diminished both in frequency and intensity.

A Touch of the Savior’s Love

In the lyrics to In Brokenness You Shine, Steve Green used the phrase “your love surrounds.” He sang of the Lord coming to us in our grief and lovingly staying with us regardless of what others might say or do.

These words came alive for me a few years after the Steve Green concert.

After work one day, I went for a long run listening to songs of praise on my iPad Shuffle. Later, I spent time alone with the Lord in my prayer closet. Because recent events had caused anxieties regarding my future to resurface, I began my time of prayer by submitting my future anew to the Lord.

A few moments later, I asked the Lord this question: “If you were seated right here next to me in this closet, what would you say to me?”

Before I finished the question, I heard his response in my soul: “I love you!” Tears streamed down my face from both joy and amazement.

The touch of my Savior’s love that night vanquished all the remaining effects of PTSD.

My Story

This is my story of how the Lord delivered me from PTSD. It’s not a pretty story; but then again, my life shows how God can use the worst of times for His glory and bring joy out of great sorrow, feelings of hopelessness, and utter failure. The Lord can shine His light on the ugliest of circumstances and make the shattered pieces of a badly broken life shine again. It took time, but He did that for me.

As a young pastor, I could cite 20 reasons why I believed in the pretribulation rapture; but sadly, I placed a greater worth on the success I could achieve than on my hope of eternity. Once the Lord broke my fierce, self-centered pride through failure, suffering, and loss, I learned the importance of valuing my expectation of heaven over earthly success and accomplishments (see 2 Cor. 4:17-18).

The Lord in His great mercy and grace has restored my life in remarkable ways. First, after many more years of loneliness and singleness I married Ruth, who is the kindest and most loving woman I have ever met. I thank the Lord every day for His steadfast love in bringing her into my life. Second, the Lord opened up a writing ministry for me as a blogger and author.

Psalm 30:5 aptly sums up my life: “For his anger is but for a moment, and his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning.”

Jonathan Brentner

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princessbunnibun · 7 years ago

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uh writing prompt drabble i guess

Before you start I’d like to say I’m sorry for any grammar errors my shift key is broken also this is unedited.

I lay against the bed with my arms wrapped around him, my fingers running through his curls soothingly as the first rays of the sun began to peek through the window. He stirs and a smile graces my lips as i nuzzle my cheek against his own and kiss his forehead gently,

‘C’mon it’s time to wake up. I wanna play.’

I watch as his own dimpled smile spreads across his face and his brown eyes open. He peeks up at me from his curls and whispers, ‘Well good morning to you too.’

I roll my eyes and sit up poking at his cheeks, ‘I’ve been up for hours waiting on you wake up.’

He laughs and sits up stretching and yawning before swinging his legs over the bed and rubbing at his eyes, ‘Well i didn’t tell you to stay up all night waiting for today.’

More giggles erupt from the pair before a soft knock is heard on his door, his mom’s blonde head peeks through the cracked door as her kind eyes smile along with her mouth, ‘and what’s got you giggly this morning, Pedro.’

‘Jo made me giggle. She stayed up all night waiting for today. Isn’t that silly.’ She smiles a bit wider and pinches her son’s cheeks, ‘Was someone excited for their ride to the toy store.’

Pedro’s face scrunches up as he swats his mom’s hands away playfully, ‘moooom i’m not a baby any more. I’m 12 now.’

I cover my mouth as i begin to giggle behind my hand only to be met with a glare by Pedro which only succeeds in making me burst into laughter. His mom backs out of the room after telling us to get ready to go. Pedro bounced over to his closet grabbing his clothes as i sat on the bed already dressed for the day.

From the closet i could hear the rustling of clothes as well as Pedro raving about the games he was going to get and the first one he would play. ‘I’ve seen all the trailers and videos online of Halo; Spartan Assault and i’m so freaking excited to play it.’

I roll my eyes and lay on my belly as i listened to him nerd out about the lore of Halo, unable to stop the smile that comes to my face. Before i knew it he walked out of the closet dressed in his finest t-shirt and his cleanest jeans, ‘Let’s go.’

He grabs my arm dragging me off the bed as both jog out into the living room leaving giggles in our wake. We’re greeted by his dad and large man with a loud jovial laugh who looks more excited than we do. After packing every one up in the truck we take off down the road to our nearest gamestop.

With the parents at the front of the store handling the money situation as grownups do, Pedro and I go looking through the various games plotting our next moves. ‘I think you should get Bioshock Infinite next. It’s an rpg and it looks like it’s fun as heck.’

He shakes his head and picks up a copy of Call ofl Duty; Ghost. ‘No, this is the next game I’m getting. I heard the graphics are sick.’

I roll my eyes and point at Bioshock, ‘But game play is more extensive instead of the normal just...point and shoot.’ i look back over at you to see, that you’re lost in thought reading the back of the case. I sigh and cross my arms debating whether or not to get your attention.

I’m just about to reach out to grab your arm, when another kid comes walking up and grabs his own copy of Call of Duty. I see your head pop up and your dimpled smile follow, ‘You’re getting Ghost too’

The kid smiles back, ‘Yeah man. It looks sick dude.’ Pedro smirks and looks back at me, ‘Told ya, Jo.’ the kid arches an eyebrow, ‘Uh, what’ Pedro takes a step to the side and I blush as i look away from the kid, ‘Oh, this is Jo. I’m Pedro.’

‘Uh…...okay. I’m Cole.’ he sticks his hand out to shake Pedro’s and goes on to say, ‘What’s your gamer tag man.’ Pedro scratches the back of his neck as a light blush covers his cheek, ‘Well i’m just picking up my Xbox so i don’t have one yet.’

Cole laughs and punches his shoulder playfully, ‘No problem man. Mine is snipercoles all lower case. Just find me online and add me. We can play together.’ Pedro’s face lights up like a christmas tree as he smiles and nods quickly.

‘Yeah yeah that’s great, I’m so excited.’ Pedro’s dad calls out that it’s time to go and we wave goodbye to Cole as we all pile back in the truck and make our way home. When we pulled up Pedro almost jumped from the car as he grabs the bag and jogs into the house.

By the time I get inside he’s already got the box open and is setting his system up murmuring to himself Cole’s gamertag in an attempt to remember it.

I sit on the couch behind him as he finishes up before he grabs his controller and plops next to me. He flashes a smile at me as I giggle and lay my head on his shoulder. As the game begins he points out the easter eggs, and explains every bit of lore he can as i watch him play, cuddling up to his side.

Eventually I fall asleep against his side letting the sound of his voice lull me out. Pedro was happy, and I was happy he was happy. Things were wonderful.

I wake up later in the day to hear him still talking i pop up with wide eyes, shame written across my face, and an ‘I’m sorry’ on my lips. However I stop my when I realize that he wasn’t speaking to me. It seemed as though Cole got online and the two of them were building a replica of a ship on Minecraft.

Smiling, I take my place right next to Pedro once more asking questions as he went giggling softly as he did his best to talk to Cole and I at once. This is how the rest of our summer went. Pedro dividing his time between playing with me and playing with Cole. I didn’t mind it of course, I enjoyed seeing my best friend branch out and meet new people. It made me happy, though the summer doesn’t last forever.

We learned towards the end of the school year that Cole would be attending the same school as him and by goodness Pedro was excited. I was more...worried as i didn’t go to the same school i was, homeschooled in a way. No matter i was still happy that my Pedro wouldn’t be lonely at school.

The school year started off as it does every year, teachers, tests, and homework. Same students,same classrooms, same papers, and same lunches. The only difference this time was that afterschool Pedro always seemed to be….busy.

I would ask if he wanted to work on our replica of an M808 Scorpion but he would tell me that he already had plans to play online with Cole, or his was going over to Cole’s house, or he was tired from staying up all weekend with Cole. Again, I was not upset that he made friends, i swear i wasn’t, I just wish he had made time for me.

Then one day, he invited Cole over, I thought this would be a great thing, he would introduce me and we would all be friends. Things would go back to normal, I would have my friend….friends.

I stood behind Pedro’s door peeking out from behind the creaking wood as I watched Cole get dropped off and Pedro bounce in happily. Taking a deep breath i steeled myself before stepping out of the door walking into the living room and standing beside Pedro. Nudging him in the side i smiled over at him expecting him to introduce us once more.

To my surprise, he ignores me. Cole doesn’t notice me at all. Frowning i poke Pedro in the cheek but he acts as though he can’t feel me. The two of them go off to play their games sitting on the couch each with a controller in hand as they nudged each other out of the way and did their bests to headshot the other.

Fed up I finally stand in front of the T.V glaring at the two boys as they continued to play as though they could see right through me. Though with a growl, Pedro throws the controller down and stands after being killed for the third time in a row.

‘I have to go the bathroom.’ He mumbles as he makes his way into the hallway, thinking this is the perfect time to get him alone, to ask him what the hell his problem is.

Before i even make it to the bathroom Pedro grabs me by the arm and drags me into the bathroom pushing me against the wall, ‘What the HELL Jo.’

My face screws up in confusion and hurt, ‘I….what. You’ve been ignoring me Pedro. I thought we were friends.’ My voice sounds whispy and pitiful in my ears. He huffs and growls, ‘YOU’RE NOT REAL.’

His words echo through my head like a ball in a pinball machine, ‘N-no...I’m...real.’ He grips my wrist and pulls my hand up to my face forcing me to come to reality with the situation. My hand was no longer solid, it was now see through. Opaque.

Pedro glares at me, ‘You’re in my head. No one else can see you and i don’t want you anymore. I’m not a baby, so just….go away.’ My eyes widen as I look up at the face of the person I’ve known my entire life, only to realize that he no longer even resembles the person from my memory.

Nodding i take a seat on the toilet and pull my knees to my chest, he mutters something about fixing his winning streak as he flushes the toilet and walks out of the bathroom. My sniffles fill the room pitifully, when Pablo, Pedro’s twin, walked into the room. I looked up at him hoping against hope that he could see me, but as the door closed behind him and he began to undo their pants, i knew he couldn’t.

Moving through the door i make my way back to the only place i’ve known to feel like home, Pedro’s room. Sitting in the corner of the room, I take my place and just sit. Waiting, for nothing.

Life moved on and I sat in my same place slowly fading more and more as I watched Pedro grow older and older.

One day well into his highschool years i saw Pedro upset. He sat on his bed looking dejectedly at the floor as though his world had been crushed. Yes, it’s true that he had left me to fend for myself fading away slowly on the floor but i couldn’t stand to see him this way.

Pushing myself off the floor I move to sit next to him, sure that he was unable to see me. I place my hand on his own as i say softly, ‘Pedro, remember whenever life gets you down you only need to remember once piece of advice, one thing that will help you get through anything this life may throw your way.’ She sighs softly and kisses his cheek gently sure that he couldn’t feel it as she finally saw herself fading away once and for all. A small smile graces her lips as he looks at her full on tears streaming down his cheeks. A small ray of light flickered through her chest as he reaches out placing his hand on her cheek as he whispers unbelievingly, ‘Jo.’ Her smile turns sad as she fades away slowly her last words lingering on the air, ‘You are loved, Pedro.’

Writing Prompt Idea; You are a kid’s imaginary friend, he’s growing up, you’re fading away.

#writing prompt #creative writing #imaginary friend #sad #fade away

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dearchuchu · 8 years ago

Photo

Ah settle yourself in for the grand tale of how we acquired carsdorp.

Yes that is me with a 1983 Mercedes benz on the southern coast of South Africa. You may be wondering, “How the hell did they end up with a 1983 Mercedes Benz in South Africa?” Valid question.

After a successful wine festival in Stellenbosch we had to make our move to Cape Town South Africa, which at this point is practically the same city. As Cape Town has grown it has basically eaten up some neighboring cities in its progress, Stellenbosch being one of those cities. There wasn’t a bus we felt like messing with, and the train seemed ill advised by the internet community, so we decided to just take an Uber, as they are cheap and everywhere.

Our Uber driver was nice, and we talked about all sorts of political and racial issues on the around 45 minute drive to Cape Town. Unfortunately, we went to the wrong address, as it turns out there were two streets named the same thing with the same numbering system in Cape Town. This meant the Uber cost more than it should have, but we understood its a pretty easy mistake to make. Seriously though, two streets named the same thing in a city, with the same numbering system? Did they run out of street names? This seems like a really easy fix.

We arrive at our hostel safe and sound, and we go to check in. We were told pretty quickly that we canceled our reservation months ago, and they didn’t have any room for us. This was shocking to say the least. We did not cancel our reservation months ago. Mandy went ahead and let the front desk guy no that in VERY specific terms, pulling out our documentation and showing that we DID have a reservation. We were informed it was canceled from our end. Mandy was quick to inform them, “Yeah, but you took the money. The funds have been removed.”

This is a problem.

The basic gist of it is that we wanted to cancel ONE DAY from our reservation months ago and we were told that they can’t cancel just one day through the (credit card) points we were using to book. We were told to cancel the whole reservation, and then rebook, which Mandy did. The first reservation was canceled, the second was made, and at some point the hostel canceled the second reservation without telling us... months ago. This means the booking we made didn’t exist, despite us being charged for it, and the hostel had no available room for us.

Fun.

The hostel did their absolute best to find us another accommodation, but this was a Saturday night in the second largest city in South Africa... everything was obviously booked. We sat at their bar, connected to their wifi, and then set about trying to figure out what the fuck we were going to do. More importantly, where the fuck are we going to stay... TONIGHT. Like, we had no where to stay in the second largest city in South Africa on a Saturday night. HOORAY!

Remember back when we had a car? At least when we had a car, maybe we could have slept in it. Here we are, stranded in Cape Town South Africa with no where to stay, not even a car, and no real prospects of anything we can do to fix this situation. We start casting a VERY wide net of places we could stay for AT LEAST the night, mainly focusing on Airbnb. We started close to where our original booking was, and quickly discovered everything available at this short notice is LAUGHABLY over our budget. We then continued going further and further out of the city trying to find anywhere that would take us in.

Not only were we having a very hard time finding things, the things we found that were in our budget were not writing us back. We sat in the bar, the common area of the hostel we were supposed to be staying in for around 6 hours on the internet trying to find anywhere to stay. The front desk manager came to us at some point and explained they had spoken with their manager, and he was authorized to give us our full money back for our booking... in cash. Basically just handed us a fist full of rand. They were truly sorry for the problem, but there isn’t much else they could do but let us stay and use their wifi until we found something else.

At the end of our ropes, we decided that we would book a Airbnb quite a bit further out than we ever intended to stay, mainly because it was a “book now” posting. That means it is an automatic booking, so we DEFINITELY have somewhere to stay, at least for the night. The good news is that the place was quite close to a bus stop, and the Cape Town public transit is excellent, so we could start the next day out right. By the time we booked, contacted our host, and contacted Uber for our ride out of town to our Airbnb, the sun had set. We lost basically a full day in Cape Town trying to find somewhere to sleep.

At one point in this trip, one of our hosts said that we were possibly bad luck because of all the issues we have had in South Africa with the rental cars. We were slightly offended, and explained to our host, “No, we are good luck. Generally when something good is happening on our trip, we will just accidentally show up to it.” Case in point, showing up to a wine festival that you didn’t know existed and drinking all the wine you can for $15. Let me take a second here to assure you dear reader (whoever takes the time to read all this...) that we are in fact good luck.

Our host Dean greeted us at the gate to his place and told us he was glad we made it. We apologize for it being so late, and then he said, “No problem. You have a cooler? If you don’t mind my asking, you are the first backpackers I’ve ever seen with a cooler. Why do you have a cooler?” We explain to Dean, “Well Dean the long and short of it is we got the cooler for Kruger National park, but that was a lifetime ago. Our car got stolen in Durban, but the cooler wasn’t in it. When our second car got broken into in Port Elizabeth, the one thing the thieves didn’t take was our cooler. It rode under the bus with us to Stellenbosch, and then in two Ubers to get here.” Dean said, “Shit.”

Shit indeed Dean. Shit indeed. We got Dean up to date on the situation, and he agreed with everyone else that we have had some “bad luck” in South Africa. Then he apologizes for our hostel falling through. He showed us around and gave us the lay of the land for the place he had for us. We had our own little spot that included a queen sized bed, TWO bathrooms, a basic kitchen set up with all the basics and then some, and of course an HD tv mounted on the wall. At our hostel, we would have had a bed, and an ensuite bathroom, that is it. So our set up at our place was MUCH better than it would have been, also cheaper.

Dean shows us into the main house area which is a shared space for other rooms he has rented out. He has a pool table, pinball machine, arcade machine, and sodas and beer for sale at price out of a mini fridge. Yeah, Deans place was quite a bit cooler than the place we couldn’t stay at. Dean also was incredibly accommodating, asking us what our plans were in Cape Town (we had none) and how we were getting around. Dean sat us down and made up a basic itinerary for us, and then told us which busses could get us closest to where we were trying to get to. Then Dean asks us, “Are you comfortable driving on the wrong side of the road?”

Dean leads us out to his parking lot, and there is a beauty of a Mercedes Benz just sitting there. Dean explains that from time to time he will lend it to a guest, but for insurance and legal reasons, he can’t rent it. We told him we understood completely. He offered to lend it to us if we wanted, and at first we said no. Cars were not exactly doing well for us so far. Dean explained its fully insured, and if it gets stolen, he truly isn’t worried about it because of its age, and it is totally insured. We all have a good laugh, and then we decide it would be WAY easier to get around to the southern part of Cape Town with a car. We accept.

Any car as old as this 1983 Mercedes Benz is going to have some quirks, this car certainly had them, and Dean walked us through each one. First of all, the driver door doesn’t lock per say. I mean, it will sort of go down if you wiggle it just right, but if you pull aggressively on the door handle, it will unlock without a key. Good to know. Second, the car has a anti theft unit installed and won’t start without pushing a button on the keys. This seems like a no-brainer in South Africa, its almost like they should do that in rental cars. The only thing left to explain is that it handles like a 30 year old car for some reason. A 30 year old Mercedes though, to be fair.

With that we were off into the greater Cape Town area rolling around with a fantastic Mercedes Benz to explore in. At times it felt like playing the video game Grand Theft Auto, because this car is so much bigger than any car I’ve driven, and the city is completely new to me. The vibe of the car had a very “Vice City” kind of feel to it. We decided very quickly that the car needed a name. We didn’t name the last cars, and look what happened. We spent some time debating as we drove through the city, “Destro” was one of my suggestions as it was age appropriate, Mandy suggested “Jalopy”.

This car was a little janky, so jalopy fit. The driver side door “sort of locks” for fuck sake. It took a little bit of thinking, but once we came up with the perfect name, we knew it all at once.

Carsdorp.

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perpetuallyphantasizing · 7 years ago

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North and South of Happy (Chapter 3)

Summary: There’s no point in sugar-coating it. Dan will be dead in ten months, twelve if he is lucky. Even though he may be dying that doesn’t mean Dan doesn’t want to achieve his life goals. Dan’s life goals? Fining his point of existence and falling in love.

Word Count: 4.594

Warnings: depression, disease, death

Chapter 3/? masterlist

A/N: I wrote this like 8 months ago so I’m sorry if there are any typos or if it sucks

Song: Force of Nature- Bea Miller

Dan POV

There is only one class that me and my four other friends have together and that is English, Louise and Phil’s favorite subject. Although English is quite possibly my worst subject I still enjoyed the class, partially because the books we read are always fascinating and well-written, but mainly because I have all of my closest friends sitting within an arm’s distance from me. That being said, today I feel like utter shit. As the day has been progressing I’ve begun to feel worse and worse and I started a mental countdown of the minutes until I have to rush out of the room to get sick, something I really didn’t want to do in this class. None of my friends know that I’m sick and I know that they would be worried if I spontaneously “got the flu” after a nearly unimaginable lack of flu and colds this school year.

My worries were cut short when I felt my stomach lurch before tieing a knot of my intestines. Other than the whole dying thing, the nausea that comes with this illness has to be the worst part. As the rest of the classroom continued on, unaware of the inner turmoil I was experiencing, I grabbed at my stomach and laid my head in my hands to try to make the sickening feeling go away, even if it was only temporarily. If I could just breath and focus on the dotted carpet below me, then maybe I could make it through the rest of the hour. Staring down at the patterned, filth ridded ground before me I could feel my head begin to pound against my skull until I could hardly maintain my even breathing. My brain felt as if it was a pinball bouncing from thing to thing in an arcade game. The pain in my head was becoming too much, my breathing picking up as I tried desperately to control the contents of my stomach, my concious lost all concept of time and I couldn’t tell if a minute was actually a second or an hour. My stomach did another backflip and I whimpered slightly at my predicament.

Surprising me half to death, I felt a warm hand place itself on my shoulder causing my whole body to lurch forward from the shock. Springing forward, the contents of my stomach did a somersault and I placed my hand in front of my mouth in one quick motion to keep myself from throwing up on my desk. There is no possible way that this day can turn out okay.

Of course Phil being the obviously concerned friend he normally is, replaced his hand that had previously been on my back and began rubbing small circles to soothe me. “Dan?” Phil whispered under his breath so that our teacher couldn’t hear, “Are you okay? Do you need me to take you to the nurse?”

Too focused on not vomiting in front of all my classmates as well as my friends and crush, I ignored Phil’s question and tried repeatedly to return to my regulative breathing patterns. I continued to ignore Phil’s intruding questions, scared of what would happen if I were to open my mouth. In hindsight I should have excused myself to the restroom fifteen minutes ago when I felt the nausea creeping upon me, but I haven't always been the brightest. I felt Phil remove his hand from my back, allowing me to somehow relax that he was no longer touching my shaking body, and also sigh at the loss of contact. The contents of my stomach continued to violently attack my body with not foreseeable future of a surrender.

The panic that continued to grow with every passing second refused to sway ground, my mind a relentless launcher of “what if’s?” towards my already nervous anxiety. By this point all my senses seemed muted and I was unaware of what was happening around me. The voice of my teacher sounded as if she was speaking on the other side of an insulated wall and the normal stench of the slightly moldy classroom was only a memory of my entry to the classroom. The lights in the room all seemed to be fogged around the edges, like that of looking at a street lamp through a frosty window. The only real thing that I could bring myself to focus on was the air that blew down from the vent directly above me, cooling me in my heated panic.

With minutes ticking by and my body still refusing to stand down from the attack it was conducting I had no idea what to do. At this point I had given up all hope of my stomach easing itself back into peaceful waters and staying in class, I needed to go to the nurse or to the bathroom, but the trust I have in my legs is very little. Just the thought of walking made my stomach increase its continual swirling, my insides feeling like a running washing machine.

“Dan?” I heard the soft voice and looked slightly to my right to see Chris peering down at me, his face etched with concern and pity. I blinked sluggishly at the brown haired boy and the worry deepened in the wrinkles of his face.

“Dan come on, you need to go to the nurse, I’ll take you.” Chris must have known that anything too loud would only make the situation worse because he used a soft whisper to talk, despite the fact that I didn’t think he had a whisper voice.

I reluctantly nodded my head at Chris’s statement and stood up for my friend to walk me to the nurse. I always thought it was pointless to have one kid assist another to the nurse, but as my legs wobbled under my wasteland of a torso I understood why. Once I stood up Chris could see my knees bend and my back slouch at the effort and concentration it took to stand while not puking all over the classroom. Gingerly, Chris placed his arm around my waist and began walking towards the door, giving my body a small pull to get me to move. Right before we were to exit the classroom I turned my head as far as it would go with my head pounding and saw the worried understanding on our teacher’s face, the curiosity on my peers’ faces, and of course the worry of my friends. Chris opened the door and dragged me out into the silent hall.

“Dan what is going on? Are you okay? Do you just feel like you are going to be sick?” Contrary to what I thought earlier it seemed as if Christ didn’t understand the silence I was in need of as he rattled off question after question.

“Can we just go to the nurse first?”

At my words Chris immediately nodded his head and we began our walk, or if you are me it was more of a long trek, to the nurse. My best friend continued to support me from the waist as we made our way past empty hallways and busy classrooms. Thankfully, Chris didn’t try to make any more conversation, or ask any more questions, as my head was still aching, my stomach still twisting, my breathing still uneven, and my anxiety only slightly subsiding.

The walk to the nurse’s office on the other side of the school was like a hike through a mountainous terrain and I could feel my lack of breath due to my extreme unfitness paired with my crippling anxiety. Walking into the nurse’s office, Chris sat me down on one of the cots and went on a search for the nurse. It was only after Chris walked into Mrs. Hoffman’s office and some hushed whispering that I was greeted by the smiling lady who was known for handing out an absurd amount of mints during finals week.

“So Dan, what seems to be the problem?”

I snuck a glance at Chris to see if he was planning on staying against the wall next to my cot or if he was going to go back to class, but from the looks of it he wasn’t going anywhere at all.

“I feel really nauseous and my head feels like it’s about ready to pound out of my skull.” I said, surprised by my own vivid description despite the fact that it felt like I was getting ready to die.

Mrs. Hoffman approached my cot and, without much warning, placed the back of her hand against my forehead. “You are showing signs of having a temperature, possibly even the flu, let me take your temperature.”

Had nobody told the school nursel that I was fucking dying? Is that something you are supposed to share with the school?

Just the thought of telling the nurse had my head spinning in circles, not helping the preexisting pain whatsoever. I thought through my options of what to do, considering just letting the nurse do her thing or telling her that there was no point in marking me down as having the flu, nausea and headaches just kind of come with the whole death thing.

I was broken from my train of thought as a thermometer with a cold, plastic cone piece was stuck into my ear. Silence filled the room as all three of us waited to see what the thermometer would say, only I knew that it was likely to come back as a normal body temperature. The device in my ear, tickling it every so slightly, beeped and Mrs. Hoffman pulled it out to look at it and sigh. “You don’t have a fever so you must have a minor cold or something of the sort.” The tall blonde paused for a second before asking again, “Can you think of any other reason why you might have these symptoms?”

I refused to tell the nurse about my condition to an unknowing Chris so I played dumb as a bat and shook my head no. “Can I stay here for a while though? I still feel as if I might get sick, and I’d really rather not go back to class.”

“Of course! That is completely fine!” Mrs. Hoffman exclaimed as if she was excited for the company that would be in her presence for a while, I hope she knows that I won’t exactly be up for holding a conversation. “Just let me go fill out your report and get you some ibuprofen for your headache.”

“Okay.” I responded simply.

As soon as the nurse was back in her office, with the door mostly closed, Chris came to sit down next to me on the cot, both of us leaning back against the beige wall. I could tell from the creases in his face that my friend still had some questions, he was most likely worried that the reason for my sudden downfall of health was my anxiety.

“So did you really just start feeling bad, or are you sick for some other reason?”

“I don’t really know, I guess it just happens sometimes, it’s fine though. Thanks for bringing me here by the way, I kind of needed to go the nurse, but I just felt really bad, you know?” I peered at Chris to see if he understood anything that I just said and he seemed to get the majority of what I was saying, however there remained a layer of confusion upon Chris’s features.

“So why didn’t you come to the nurse with Phil when he offered?”

“What?” I said, attempting to avoid the question. The real reason I had ignored Phil was because I didn’t want my crush to have to deal with me when I was feeling bad, but there wasn’t a good way that I could explain that to my best friend sitting next to me.

“Well Phil saw that you weren’t looking your best and offered to take you to the nurse,” Chris nodded his head towards Mrs. Hoffman’s office, “But you didn’t seem to respond to him so he asked me to talk to you.”

Rather than showing any sort of understanding of what Chris was saying I stared straight ahead at a “Effects of Drugs on the Body” poster in front of me. For some odd reason Chris’s words felt like an interrogation, and while my stomach had subsided its twisting and knotting significantly I still felt as if the truth Chris was in search for could make me vomit on the plain tiles before me.

“I don’t really know, I was just really out of it I guess.”

“Okay, as long as you are okay? Are you okay Dan?”

“Yeah I’m fine.” Lies, I was telling lies.

I heaved a sigh of relief when the nurse returned from her office with some pills and a look at Chris as if to ask “what are you still doing here?”

“Chris you should probably go back to class.” I told him with a straight face, my eyes still trained on the pale wall in front of me. “Thanks for bringing me here, and for looking after me. Tell Phil that I said thanks, and I’m sorry too please.” I said with more emotion in my voice, finally looking up to meet his hazel eyes.

“Okay I will.”

Chris gave me one final smile and left the room, the sound of a door swinging closed an indicator to his departure. After he left Mrs. Hoffman proceeded to give me the pills she was holding in her hand and a cup, she then pointed in me in the direction of the water fountain that was only about ten feet away. “Let me know if you need anything else, otherwise you can just lay down and rest on the cot.”

Once I shuffled my way over to the water fountain and then swallowed my pills I found myself standing in the wide doorway of Mrs. Hoffman’s office.

“Mrs. Hoffman can I go home please?”

Turning around in her desk chair, the nurse looked at me with a sympathetic look, “Are you feeling that bad?”

“Just trust me when I say that I need to go home.” I practically begged, “Please.”

“Okay, let me just call your parents so one of them can come pick you up.”

“Thank you.” I responded simply.

. . .

When I first heard the doorbell ring I wasn’t expecting it to be for me. While I did hang out with friends a lot of the time, very rarely did they show up unexpected with gifts of cookies and candy.

“Dan! Chris and Phil are here to see you! Is it okay if they come up?” I heard my mom shout from the bottom of the stairs.

Despite the fact that I was utterly exhausted due to the my ill feelings earlier in the day, I couldn’t exactly order my friends to go home. Even if I did ask my friends to leave I knew my mom would scold me for turning away friends, when my months left with them were numbered.

“Yeah that’s fine!” I shouted back as loud as I could with my frail voice.

From my bed I could hear the shuffling of feet inside the door and greetings from both my friends any my mother, my mom seeming very excited that the two boys had decided to come see me after I had been sent home earlier today. It was only a few short minutes later when Chris and Phil scuttled into the room. With Chris taking a seat on the floor, Phil lunged for the hammock that I had hanging from the ceiling, his favorite place to sit whenever he came over to my house. Chris allowed only a few awkward moments of silence before he cleared his throat and began the conversation.

“So are you feeling any better Dan? You looked pretty out of it today in English and at the nurse’s office.”

I could tell from the way that Chris had delivered his words that he was trying to make light of the situation, something which I was grateful for. “Haha, thanks Chris, I know that I looked like shit, I still kind of do to be honest.”

Phil perked up at my comment about myself. “You look great, you’re glowing.”

“Is he pregnant?” Asked Chris as if he was actually quite curious about my answer I was going to give.

“No I’m not pregnant, and in all seriousness I’m feeling much better.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Phil said genuinely, with his sunshine of a smile.

I turned my gaze towards Phil and took a moment to study his features. Phil truly is beautiful, from his clear, pale skin to his striking eyes, I couldn’t help but get lost in his soft features. Phil was quite honestly bright enough to be a star, always shining and twinkling for others to watch him, something entirely his own, but in the most dazzling way. I was interrupted from my star-gazing, as Phil’s pools of crystal blue met mine and I watched as he smiled delicately. I was utterly transfixed by my friend, the knowledge that Chris was saying something in the back of my mind, but unimportant due to the boy sitting in front of me. Just as I was about to turn my head, still being uncomfortable with long periods of eye contact, I caught Phil wink in my direction and then return the same smile he had been wearing just a few short seconds before. What was that about? It was so unlike Phil to wink at me, or anybody for that matter.

“Dan! Phil! Are either of you listening to me?” Chris almost yelled, seeming genuinely annoyed at Phil and I’s lack of participation in the conversation. “Can you guys pay attention to my story for Christ sakes!”

Turning our heads at the same time, Phil and I looked at each other with a look of fear and began laughing as we turned to face where Chris was sat on the floor. “Okay we’re listening, I’m sorry Chris.” I apologized, as Chris was more likely to take the apology sincerely from me than Phil.

“As I was saying, I am seriously concerned for the mental health of Mr. Lamon, he legitimately thought that penguins were mammals and this guy has a masters degree!”

“Mr. Lamon is a bit of an airhead to be honest.” Phil responded in order to keep Chris happy, something to which I was thankful.

While I loved Chris deeply I was really wishing that it was only Phil sitting in my room and telling stories. My emotional and physical health really didn’t feel adequate for forced interaction, and to be quite honest all I really wanted to do was talk to Phil about the kid in my math class who outed himself today. Incapable of forcing myself to engage in the conversation I felt myself begin to drift off towards thoughts of my friends, and if today would have been easier had they known that I’m dying. At what point do I tell my friends that next year won’t be something I get to experience? Surely if I could tell anybody I could tell my best friend, but that hardly seemed right in this situation. Even if I am to consider telling any of my four friends I couldn’t imagine which it would be easiest to tell, which one I’m closest to in order to disclose that information.

When it comes to best friends it can be difficult because between all four of my friends I feel closer to each of them in a different way. I suppose Phil was the person I always went to talk about anything that’s taboo or things regarding sexuality, considering he’s questioning his own and my other friends aren’t nearly as comfortable with the topic. I loved Phil to death, quite obviously, he is sweet, caring, funny, smart, and overall an amazing person, but yet he isn’t afraid to validate my hatred for a few select people when I need him to. Then there is PJ, who although is probably my most supportive friend, doesn’t always connect with me on my crippling social anxiety traits. PJ is such a fun person to be around and incredibly caring, but the difference between PJ and the rest of my friends is that PJ doesn’t mind meeting new people and socializing while the rest of us would rather stay in our beds than go to a party. As far as Louise, I love her more than I think I realize, I value our deep conversations and ability to talk about anything and get along to an extent that most would never understand, however there are simply some things that I can not share with Louise. Finally there is Chris, the one person I would have to call my best friend. Chris and I relate in a way that I don’t think either of us, or anybody else will ever understand, we might be considered polar opposites but we have enough in common and love each other enough to fully appreciate the other to their full potential. It’s the three am conversations, and our ability to text for the entire day without getting tired of each other, that I value so much in our friendship. I know for a fact that Chris would do anything in the world for me, and I of course would return the favor. It is the deep friendship I hold with Chris, and Chris’s saddening story of his mother that keeps me from telling my friends that I’m dying. How would somebody ever tell their best friend that the same illness that stole their mother away from them is now stealing their best friend, it seems impossible.

As if being ripped away from a movie, I felt myself flash back to reality due to a screaming Chris. “Daniel James Howell! Can you not keep a conversation?” Chris said, his face close enough to mine that I could feel the air from his words vibrating against my cheeks. Despite his antics to get me to talk I still struggled to pull myself back to reality and the room I was sitting in at the moment. In a much calmer voice this time, Chris asked, “Dan are you okay?”

It was at this point that I was able to regain control over my body and acknowledge the two friends sitting in front of me. “I’m fine, just tired to be honest.”

“Are you sure that that’s all that’s wrong?” Phil piped in. I couldn’t help but read Phil’s tone of voice as accusing, making me nervously look up at him. How in the world could Phil have found out about my nearing death?

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I jutted out defensively. Realizing my mistake, I made an attempt at compensating for the obvious anxiety in my voice, “Well I mean I kind of still have a headache so Chris’s screaming isn’t helping that at all.” Just to ease the tension in the room I shot Chris a mockingly, accusatory glare from my place on my bed.

“Sorry.” Chris said in a timid voice.

“It’s okay.”

A silence seemed to fall over the three of us as if we had all forgot about the other breathing bodies in the room. I could only imagine what was running through Phil’s mind by this point, he so clearly knows that something is wrong, Chris on the other hand seemed slightly oblivious, or at least he was a state where he didn’t see the need to intervene quite yet. While I sometimes wished that my friends would settle for a silent room, opposed to constant talking, I could feel the silence eating away at my control over my anxiety. These are my friends and yet I still felt slightly nervous about what could happen in the next few moments. The quiet of the room seemed to be soaking into the walls and the furniture around us until everything was buzzing, my ears not being able to handle the lack of sound.

“So did I miss anything important today in English?” I spoke up, being rather blunt with my words.

My bland question seemed to break my friends out of the spell that had seemed to overtaken them, and they automatically glanced at each other before nodding and their heads. Weird.

“You didn’t miss much, just something boring probably.” Phil sighed.

I looked to Chris to get a better description of the hour I had missed, but was met with him shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t look at me, I spent most of class at the nurse with you.”

“I guess you’re right, I’ll just talk to her tomorrow to see if there is anything I need to make up.”

The blanket of silence seemed to fall over the three of us again and I felt as if I might implode if somebody didn’t speak the fuck up. Thankfully Chris unlocked his phone to look at the time and seemed to make a fake gasp. “It’s nearly six o’clock and I have at least four hours of history to do, I better get going, see you later Dan, and I hope you get start feeling better.”

I snorted at Chris’ words, they were so incredibly fake and he must have known that I knew he was just putting on an act, although I knew the act was only in my interest as he could see that I am tired. “You say that as if I’m a dying relative that you don’t actually want to see.” I only stopped for a second when I realized what I had said, quickly picking my sarcasm back up so that neither of my two friends would notice my realization. “I’ll text you later tonight you dingus.”

“Okay.” Chris only chuckled as he walked out of the door and down the stairs of my home.

Phil and I both waited until we heard Dan bid farewell to my mother and close the front door to begin talking ourselves. I got up off my spot on the bed and closed the door, there was no reason that my family needed to hear me telling Phil the story of Jonathan outing himself during math today. As I was up closing the door Phil seemed to have taken it upon himself to move over the spot opposite of what I had previously been sitting on my bed. Sitting next to Phil I pulled out a blanket from the chest beside the bed and tossed it over to Phil, also pulling myself one out as well.

“You look like you have been itching to tell me something ever since I walked through your door, so spill.” Phil spoke in a commanding voice, or as commanding as Phil could sound.

“How did you know that I had gossip to share?”

“Don’t try to deny the fact that we have very intense eye conversations Daniel.”

I laughed at Phil’s statement and simply nodded my head showing my appreciation to the truth behind his statement. I tried my best to keep from halting all conversation to admire the specks of varying color in Phil’s eyes as he seemed to intently stare at my flushed features. Knowing that if I didn’t stop myself now I was going to cross the line between platonic and romantic admiration I cleared my throat and began my story about Jonathan.

Previous Chapter

#north and south of happy #phanfiction #phan au #fanfiction #fanfic #phan #phandom #perpetuallyphantasizing #dan and phil fanfiction

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nateronomicon · 5 years ago

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Mojave Moon Motel

Little Setting-Place

Since the summer of 1940, the Mojave Moon Motel has been a place to relax, get away, and take in the solitude of it's namesake desert at an affordable price. Come one down to get away from it all. Take a dip to the pool, sleep your troubles away in a soft bed, or take a hike through the desert itself- heck, even the extraterrestrials seem stop by the Mojave Moon Motel, so be sure to say hi.

History: The Nighthorse family built the Mojave Moon Motel along Route 66 in 1940, having been thrifty and later prospering through factory work during the War. Paul Nighthorse witnessed a beautiful moonrise that year, which was the inspiration for the name. A Nighthorse has always been in charge of the Mojave Moon. And they will always will be.

The Motel suffered when the Interstate Highway Act of 1956 effectively destroyed the Route. Unlike many towns, though, the Mojave Moon scraped by, albeit in a reduced state. Paul Nighthorse died after fighting to keep the place open for years, and his grandson Danny took over in the 70's. Danny's mechanical appitude has helped the business greatly, and he lives in the Motel full-time now, too stubborn to quit or sell the place.

Current Sketch: The Mojave Moon Motel gives off an old and lonely vibe. But it's this atmosphere that attracts a certain kind of person and keeps the place afloat. It's not glamorous, but it's functional. Upon first viewing, patrons often feel like the Motel was displaced from an earlier time. Despite this, the Motel is not in the financial hole. At least, not yet. Times can always change. Room rates are reasonably priced and based on the customer's attitude. Normally a room costs $55 a night, but rude and/or shady customers can expect to pay $95 a night, and Danny makes sure to book them close by.

Prominent People:

Danny Nighthorse: Male Native American, age "Fucking Old". Motel owner and resident handyman. Danny handles any electrical or mechanical problems that occur around the Mojave Moon. He treats the Motel like it's an extension of himself; which is to say it's leathery, old, tired and it's bones creak from time to time, but it's still truckin'. Danny also keeps an eye on shady people who come to his establishment, booking them rooms close to his office and spying on them through a secret hallway (see below).

Rafaela Suarez: Latina, age 49. Chief cleaner lady. Rafaela is a short, plump lady who is very good at her job and assumes everyone is going to be an asshole before meeting them. However, if one is polite- or better, if they clean up their own messes, they would earn some respect from her. Rafaela doesn't live at the Motel, she carpools in daily, which Danny finds impressive. Rafaela is paid well, she is utterly loyal to Danny (and vice versa) and does not accept bribes. Tips are appreciated, though.

Carlos Suarez: Latino, age 20. Part-time pool boy. Carlos is Rafaela's youngest son and the first to go to college- her other boys all joined the military. Carlos works in the summer, cleaning the pool and getting it ready for tourist season. He's pretty popular, and old Danny lets him invite friends over to use the pool- although he charges each person $5 to use it for the day, unless they book a room.

Motel Locations:

-The Rooms: Each room offers two comfortable double beds, simple dresser-drawers, and an old TV with horrible reception. The Wifi is not great either. The bathrooms are basic as well. One thing Danny did not skimp on was the air conditioning, and each room is a safe refuge from the heat. Simple metal folding chairs can be found in the recreation room if additional seating is necessary. -The Rec Room: The recreation room offers two broken arcade cabinets that Danny hasn't gotten around to fix and sell, alongside a pinball machine that's in remarkably good condition- Danny still plays it from time to time. The Rec room also has a TV with poor reception, and a scratched pool table. For whatever reason, the air conditioning in this room is worse than the rest of the place, so this room sees little activity. -Laundry Room: If you got quarters and patience, you got clean clothes. Bring your own detergent and dryer sheets. Vending Machines: Two vending machines, recently changed out (in the 90's) sell soda pop and candy. The sodas are cold, and the candy is sometimes old. Most people head down the road to stock up at the gas station instead of risking their bowels on ancient bags of gummy bears. -The Pool: From June to August, the pool is in great condition, as Carlos maintains it. For the rest of the year, however, the pool slowly declines, becoming algae-choked and slowly drying up in the desert air. There is no lifeguard on duty so swim at your own risk (as the signs say to prevent lawsuits), and while the pool can be heated, Carlos turned this feature off a long time ago, as patrolling the Mojave makes one wish for a nuclear winter. -Secret Hall: When Danny has shady customers, he assigns them rooms close by, and makes use of the hidden passageway near his office. Only Danny knows of it's existence. Danny keeps peepholes cleverly hidden in ugly paintings. He's busted a few people this way, but more often, he just ends up seeing weird sex shit and then calls it a night.

The Weird Stuff: Being that this is the American Southwest, the residents of the Mojave Moon have seen their share of bizarre phenomena.

The Abandoned Ranch: North a few miles up the road is a collapsed farmhouse and barn, looking like they were built in the 1940's or 50's. The barn blew over when it's supports gave out decades ago, but curiously, the farmhouse looks like it's roof imploded due to great pressure, like something heavy sat on it. Perhaps the weirdest part about the abandoned ranch is the three dozen graves in the field behind the ruins. None of the people buried there are listed in the census data, and there's no sign of any animals- no bones, no droppings, nothing. Who were these people and what were they doing out here? Alien Pit Stop: Sunset Station is the only gas station closest to the Mojave Moon Motel, 8 miles south down the road. The owner, Kurt Mason, is terrified of aliens. He claims to have seen them visit his gas station in the dead of night after the power goes out. Indeed, the man claims to see UFO lights flying over the desert at least once a month. For this reason, he keeps a cot in the back room with a door latch and a loaded shotgun, just in case he can't safely go home. Danny Nighthorse doesn't believe in aliens, but he has had customers complain about somebody rattling their door knobs and tapping on the windows at night. Thirsty Roadkill: Weird coyotes have been spotted drinking from the pool at night. Those who got a closer look described them as looking decayed, like death, and moving as if their bones were broken- although sometimes frighteningly swift. Some even described them as walking upright and talking like people. Every time these are brought up to Danny Nighthorse, though, he angrily tells the person to stop talking about it, and go enjoy their stay. He won't discuss it any further.

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dallasareaopinion · 6 years ago

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Old problems, new solutions?

This idea has bounced around in my head all day like a hot pinball machine, racking up points the ball going everywhere, yet at the end of the day, I am back where I started. I think?

Seriously though, something caused my brain to run around in hundreds of tangents and I cannot remember where I started, yet at the time it was important.

I hope to narrow it down for you.

Here are the problems: Wall Street, trash and pollution, jobs, education, and so how does all this tie together?

I vaguely remember thinking earlier it would be like taking all the trash out of the ocean. Which to me is a goal we should reach. I do not remember what made me think about the trash in the ocean, but I got started thinking about why is it so hard to get people to make cleaning up our environment a priority, then the obvious hit me. There is no money in it. Duh

People talk about recycling, yet even that never gets real traction. And the recycling companies struggle to make money. I do not know the logistics of it, but let’s work on that.

Or do we need to make money from it? And this is where the Wall Street problem comes in. Instead of trying to have a for profit company that has to answer to stockholders that expect ever increasing sales, why not accept that not all companies are growth companies, some can survive without constantly trying to please Wall Street’s insatiable greed.

The key is structuring the expectations carefully and structuring what the goal of the company can be.

So instead of always trying to “grow”, instead create a dividend generating company so it has public investment and allows for income only. If you know securities you have probably have heard of preferred stock. Imagine a company with something similar, no common stock. There are no earnings structured by the stock price. Everything is based on annual earnings.

Now this would not work for most corporations especially those that sell products. The difference is you aren’t selling a product and you are doing the public a favor. And this is not specifically for recycling companies, that is just one example.

Sticking to that example though, recycling companies receive contracts from both companies and governments to clean areas, or a combination of general recycling and clean ups. The company earns x amount of dollars and the profit is sent to the investors in dividend income. Outside of capital expenditures to meet new demands or invest in better technology, the majority of the net profit is paid out.

You do have the problem of possible fluctuating income based on the contracts, yet this is a bit of a public private partnership. And to carry this further, here is an extreme example.

Coal is a dying industry, no matter how hard people try to revive it. And has it dies people are losing jobs. And coal is dirty, not just in air pollution, but what it has done to the environment where it is mined. And who has benefited the most from this, the corporations who ran the mines. And this is extreme and the coal industry won’t like it, but the government can exchange the cost of cleaning up the environment, retraining some of the workers to how it needs to be cleaned up and letting investors come in and create a company that not only cleans up the environment, but also restores either farmland or forests or brand new planned developments to invigorate the local economy and environment. The cost to the coal companies can be either they hand the land back to the government or they pay a direct fee. The government collects the fees and pays the new company or the government pays the new company through bonds and taxes then once the clean up is completed they sell the land to the newly created economy, ie forestry, farms, or new development.

And here is the kicker, the company that does this has planned end. Once the project is completed the company can be broken up or shut down and all the assets sold to finalize the payoff to the investors so they can go invest elsewhere.

The government isn’t in the business of cleaning up and finds the resources outside of raising taxes or it invests in the land and recoups their investment to offset future taxes. Once the environment is cleaned up then there is less taxes needed going forward.

And there are other companies along the same lines. And these are supply chain companies, manufacturing companies, and others. We need to go back to the business of products that can be recycled, like glass bottles, we have aluminum cans, but they are forced to perform under Wall Street pressure, and other items like real cloth instead of “synthetic” fabrics which are really plastic. The exact same companies that make plastic can switch gears and go back to products that either decompose like paper or can be recycled. THe difference is the producers are also the recyclers and this part of the business helps to offset costs, but they are not bound by Wall Street growth factors. Some may and some probably could, but overall a secondary industry that maintains a status quo of that gives you a predictable business model.

Recessions might have some effect on income, but recessions would only have muted effect. Jobs would not be as drastically affected if you knew you could adjust the dividend temporarily, or always have the dividend underpaid a small amount and the company actually has a savings account to adjust for moderate fluctuations in income so investors can rely on their plans.

We receive a secondary gain because the same jobs that rely on plastic production get switched over to the recycle industry and we have less reliance on oil. Will the oil industries be upset, yeah but who cares. They can invest in the new production just as much as the rest of us. People are always pro free market when it benefits them, take away something and they whine just like everyone else.

The trend will eventually be away from oil as it was with coal over time. They can stay relevant by investing their current profits into new ventures. Don’t believe me, research what T. Boone Pickens is doing.

And we can use the same principle to clean the ocean or wherever. Industries that benefit from the use of the ocean pay a fee to the companies responsible for cleaning and recycling what they collect. Governments can create treaties to facilitate their fee schedule.

Basically it is a temporary tax to do business that has a built in reduction as time goes on. The more the clean up is successful the less there will be in the future. There may be a smaller version of the company as time goes on, but that is good. The fees become smaller for the companies etc...and jobs can transfer to the very industries that paid the fees as they now have more potential growth as habitats and environments come back. And this “tax” or fee is applied to the companies that receive the most benefit instead of being part of larger taxes whole citizenry face that if run by governments never goes away.

Businesses can be structured where success in completing the project is where managers and employees receive bonuses, not stock price. Many of these projects will go on for decades and some of the businesses will become part of our lives. The investments won’t pay the like the growth in Apple or Amazon stock, but the investors will know that. And these will be great investments for pension plans, trusts, retirees, as similar to bonds they generate income.

So how are the original issues resolved, plus some other benefits.

Wall Street’s influenced is reduced so the certain businesses can operate solely on their core plan.

Clean up helps the environment, and as people look for new ways to address different scenarios new technology develops so businesses develop to fill this need.

Taxes can be reduced as we can switch the responsibility of EPA super clean ups to these companies. The fees are paid by the corporations who created the problem, hence some government interaction will be needed to enforce, but the overall burden doesn’t fall on the general populace.

Stable industries help communities develop so local tax bases can spend money on what is important to the community such as better schools. Retraining to help people in dying industries make the switch can encompass more than just job specific training. The need for new technologies offer new opportunities for research and development which requires more people attending higher education.

Consumers are not affected over the long term as the switch from plastics to products that either decompose on their own or more recyclable products come back into everyday use.

So you go back to paper, glass, continue use of aluminum, cotton and wool clothing, (agriculture) etc.. these businesses still exist today, you just expand them to replace all the plastic currently being used. It may not bring a net job gain, but you should not lose jobs either. Over time you might get the gain as some of these industries will become more localized by their nature, especially the clothing changes. And since these products will either be used for other products or products direct to the consumer they have the opportunity to be more traditional corporations closer to what we had in the 50’s and 60’s with just more automation and technology.

To some people this is pie in the sky thinking, when actually it is basic common sense. This won’t happen overnight, but we could begin right away. The big key is changing the mindset and millennials today already have some of this mindset.

And this has looped through my brain in many shapes forms and fashions today, so it is hard to come back and write it down. I hope you get the jist of it and gives you some food for thought. The examples aren’t as succinct as I would like, but if I try to rehash it all, it becomes even more jumbled.

Cheers

This idea has bounced around in my head all day like a hot pinball machine, racking up points the ball going everywhere, yet at the end of the day I am back where I started. I think?

Seriously though, something caused my brain to run around in hundreds of tangents and I cannot remember where I started, yet at the time it was important.

I hope to narrow it down for you.

Here are the problems: Wall Street, trash and pollution, jobs, education, and so how does all this tie together?

People talk about recycling, yet even that never gets real traction. And the recycling companies struggle to make money. I do not know the logistics of it, but let’s work on that.

Or do we need to make money from it? And this is where the Wall Street problem comes in. Instead of trying to have a for-profit company that has to answer to stockholders that expect ever increasing sales, why not accept that not all companies are growth companies, some can survive without constantly trying to please Wall Street’s insatiable greed.

The key is structuring the expectations carefully and structuring what the goal of the company can be.

So instead of always trying to “grow”, instead create a dividend-generating company so it has public investment and allows for income only. If you know securities you have probably have heard of preferred stock. Imagine a company with something similar, no common stock. There are no earnings structured by the stock price. Everything is based on annual earnings.

Now, this would not work for most corporations especially those that sell products. The difference is you aren’t selling a product and you are doing the public a favor. And this is not specifically for recycling companies, that is just one example.

Sticking to that example though, recycling companies receive contracts from both companies and governments to clean areas or a combination of general recycling and cleanups. The company earns x amount of dollars and the profit is sent to the investors in dividend income. Outside of capital expenditures to meet new demands or invest in better technology, the majority of the net profit is paid out.

You do have the problem of possible fluctuating income based on the contracts, yet this is a bit of a public private partnership. And to carry this further, here is an extreme example.

So how are the original issues resolved, plus some other benefits.

Wall Street’s influenced is reduced so the certain businesses can operate solely on their core plan.

Clean up helps the environment, and as people look for new ways to address different scenarios new technology develops so businesses develop to fill this need.

Consumers are not affected over the long term as the switch from plastics to products that either decompose on their own or more recyclable products come back into everyday use.

Cheers

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