#and ROB got ERASED by the ENTIRE UNIVERSE and NO ONE would help him and no one WILL help him and now hes DEAD again

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

THATS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING not aloud BUT

if i had a nickel for every time there was a cool-toned antagonistic teenaged cyclops character with terrible hair in a kids show who had just the most awful things happen to them, ended up paralyzed and stuck lying there on the ground for a while at some point, and just wanted to save everyone but couldn’t save anyone, i’d have two nickels. which isnt a lot

but it’s weird that it happened twice

[alrightberries]

strawberries and cigarettes (always taste like you)

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: angst ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: Levi celebrates Christmas Eve the only way he knew how: getting drunk and high on a rooftop while thinking about you.

❈ trigger warnings: drinking and smoking. mentions of violence, gore, blood and death. brief mention of sex. profanity.

a/n: canon compliant but also kinda not? idk if they have cigarettes in the aot/snk universe or if they celebrate christmas so just roll with it.

Smoke puffed out of Levi’s lips, slowly dissipating in the chilly December night. The breeze that passed by caused goosebumps to rise on his skin, a product of the winter’s unforgiving coldness, and the thought of getting off the rooftop where he sat in silence briefly crossed his mind. His office wasn’t that far and it wouldn’t take that long to quickly grab his coat, but the longer he stayed and stared at the dark sky, the more he found himself not caring about the cold breeze or the below zero temperatures. 

He took another puff from the cigarette in his hand, eyes drifting towards the barracks where the rest of the regiment most likely was at this hour. The torches and lamps scattered around the base glowed a warm orange-y yellow, a contrast to the whites and blues of the snow and darkness. It looked gorgeous, almost, and Levi silently chuckled to himself at the sickening thought of finding anything beautiful at this fucked up time of year.

Christmas Eve.

A time for friends. A time for family. A time for people to gather around the fireplace and drink warm beverages as they sang songs, told stories, and eagerly waited for the stroke of midnight to open and exchange their gifts.

What a load of bullshit.

Christmas Eve was Levi’s version of a pain in the ass. It was a holiday filled with a bunch of cadets greeting him with a warm and cheery ‘Merry Christmas, Captain’ every time he passed them in the halls, and he would only respond with either silence or a brief nod of acknowledgement. Not to mention, it was also the time where Hanji would try to get him to celebrate different festivities in an attempt to cheer him up. 

It was technically a week-long headache for Levi, with the eccentric soldier- for an entire seven days prior to Christmas- trying just about everything in the book in attempts to get him to sit around the fire with the other squad leaders or even do something as small as switch out tea for hot chocolate to match the holiday spirit. It seemed like Hanji’s excessive invitations would always get worse around Christmas Eve, but of course, it never worked.

Levi took a swig of the whiskey he’d brought with him onto the rooftop, extinguishing the cigarette he was holding and lighting a new one once it had reached its end, before taking another deep inhale of the stick of nicotine.

Indeed, Christmas Eve was nothing but a pain for Levi.

Perhaps Hanji thought of him as lonely. Maybe Erwin had even just half a mind to worry about his well-being. But truth be told, Levi did celebrate Christmas Eve in his own little way: at around 10 o’clock at night, without fail, Levi would make his way onto the highest rooftop of their current base carrying nothing but whiskey, nicotine, and strawberries. From there, he would drink and smoke until midnight came, at which point he would start to eat the strawberries he’d brought. Then he would drink and smoke some more until he felt like his liver couldn’t handle it anymore, before eventually making his way back to his quarters at 4 o’clock in the morning and attempt to get his drunk and high mind to rest.

It was his fucked up little Christmas Eve tradition. 

The first year Hanji had noticed that Levi wasn’t around the base for their Christmas Eve celebration, they went around asking people if anyone had seen him, to which everyone would reply with ‘No, I haven’t seen him, sorry.’ When the second year came around, Hanji once again noticed that Levi was gone and no one had seemed to know where he was. So when the third year came around, they waited for him to leave his office and stealthily followed him around the base to find out exactly where Levi runs off to during the holidays. Hanji got caught, of course, and by the third time they’d gotten caught (and almost strangled each time) they knew it was best to stick to pestering him rather than following him.

Levi grimaced at the memories of Hanji trying to follow him around, him sensing it immediately and going around the base in an attempt to shake them off his tail, failing, and eventually just resorting to telling them off (Oi, four-eyes, how much longer do you plan to stalk me like a creepy old pervert?)

He sighed.

He wasn’t always like this. He used to enjoy Christmas Eve and doing all the cliche holiday traditions that came with it; sitting around the fireplace with Isabel and Farlan and playing the guitar, pretending not to care about their tone-deaf voices as they sang their own version of holiday songs, never really knowing the lyrics but knowing the tune and making up words to accompany the melody as they go.

Where did he go wrong?

It was around his second bottle of whiskey and his second (or third? He couldn’t remember but didn’t really care at this point) packet of cigarettes when Levi’s fuzzy mind would finally unlock the memories he’d kept at the very back of his mind- a place where he couldn’t reach them and they couldn’t reach him. Memories he’d repressed years ago, never to be thought of, never to see the light of day. Except on Christmas Eve.

He closed eyes as he exhaled, lying down on the rooftop’s snow-covered shingles as he carefully set down the bottle of whiskey next to him, just within his reach. He went through cherry-picked memories of his life Underground once again, relishing in the warmth and happiness he once felt when he was with Isabel and Farlan. But at the very corner of each memory, always within his peripheral vision, was a fuzzy character- a person, no doubt- laughing. Smiling. Holding his hand. Playing with his hair. Kissing him good night. Bandaging his wounds. Showing him tricks with a knife. Making tea. Talking with Isabel and Farlan.

He took another swig of the bottle of whiskey, eager to make the fuzzy memory vivid in a way that only the drink that burned his throat could do. His heart skipped a beat as the blurry edges and lines he’d superimposed into his own mind cleared and revealed the one person that made this living hell a bit less terrible, and the only reason why he ever did his little Christmas Eve tradition.

For a moment, it felt like he was floating on air as he finally got a good look at the character that he’d tried so hard to erase from his mind but never could. His mind may have forgotten but his body still remembered, and he felt the tips of his fingers tingle not from the cold but from the memories of a touch, a touch so endearing, a touch so warm, a touch that felt like home. A touch that was unmistakably you.

Mind fuzzy from the alcohol and head just a little light from the nicotine, Levi can faintly remember the moments he’d shared with you during his time in the Underground.

He remembers being homeless after Kenny had left him, then meeting you as you both ran into each other- quite literally, at that- when you stole bread from a bakery and made a run for it as two angry adults chased after you, cutting him a deal that if he helped you get out of it alive then you would share your measly loaf of bread with him. He remembers teaming up with you from that day onward and watching each others’ backs, sleeping in alleyways and taking shifts for safety, rummaging through garbage cans for food before Levi decided that enough was enough and robbing a stall so you both could eat that day. 

Faintly, he also remembers the day he joined a gang that promised him food, shelter, and a steady paying job if he could prove how strong he was by beating up a rival gang member. He remembers getting jumped by three other people as he beat up the man he was told to pummel, fighting them off and winning without so much as a sweat. He remembers the gang he wanted to join eagerly inviting him after the fact, and he agreed on the condition that you came along too.

He remembers the first time he’d taken a shower after years of being filthy, and how clean and fresh he felt without the dirt and grime caking his clothes and his skin. He remembers hearing the door to his small room open- knowing that it was you- and turning around so he could marvel at how clean he felt. But his words died on his tongue as he took a look at you, hair clean, face visible, dirt free, and looking ever-gorgeous in the clothes he’d bought you the day before using his blood money. The clothes weren’t fancy in any way at all, just simple clothes that he bought on a whim when he realized that you’d been wearing the same unwashed garments for years, but he remembers it was enough for him to decide that, even though he didn’t understand what it meant when his heart sped up and the tips of his ears started to burn whenever he was around you, he liked looking at you when were clean. He liked being clean.

He remembers the first time you kissed him. He was sat on the bed of your shared room, gritting his teeth as you stitched up a cut on his forehead and berated him for being so careless, being too confident, on one of the jobs his boss had assigned him. He finished the job, of course, his ability to get the job done without fail being the main reason why he was assigned so many assignments in the first place, but it didn’t make you less angry when he walked into the room with bruised knuckles and a large gash on his forehead. He remembers staying silent, breathing through the pain of what was essentially surgery with no anesthesia as your berating slowly died down and he could finally see in your eyes the worry you tried to conceal with anger. He remembers taking your hand in his after you’d finished cleaning up the materials you used to administer first aid, gently pulling you down to sit next to him as your hands reached out and cradled his face, careful not to touch the freshly sewn skin as he slowly leaned in until his lips met yours.

He remembers the first time he had sex with you, how it was nothing short of awkward and clumsy as two teenagers tried to figure out what goes where and how to do this and that. You were both each others’ first, that much he knew, and though the first time wasn’t as hot and steamy as everyone had worked it out to be, he still enjoyed it because it was you. He remembers cradling you in his arms that night as you fell asleep, a small smile on your peaceful face, and he made his first silent promise that night: that he’d do anything within his power to keep you safe and happy.

He remembers Farlan and the support he gave as Levi worked his way up to a higher position in the gang’s ranks, inevitably becoming the leader through his skills and hard work (a result of the second silent promise he’d made to himself: that he would work hard and become successful enough that you wouldn’t have to lift a finger to live a decent life.) He remembers taking you out of your small shared bedroom and moving you to an actual house that you could call your own; it was barren and filthy and needed a lot of tender love and care, but it didn’t matter- as long as you were with him, he was home. 

He remembers getting his hands on some ODM gear through the black market, training Farlan to become his right-hand man as you stayed within the base and administered first-aid to any member of his gang that needed it. He refused to let you learn how to use the gear, fearing that if you were to be seen doing his dirty work with him then you would become a target of both rival gangs and the Military Police. You didn’t mind, perfectly comfortable with staying at home and handling the more business side of things that involved pay distributions and document blackmails.

He remembers meeting Isabel that fateful day she barged into your home, scaring away the thugs who chased after her and accepting her into the group, your odd little family of dysfunctional orphans now complete.

He remembers spending Christmas Eve with his little family, sitting around the fireplace as you laughed at one of Farlan and Isabel’s stories, hand tightly clutching his as he silently reveled in the peace and happiness he managed to find in the least happy and least peaceful city within the walls. He remembers you telling him to close his eyes as the clock struck midnight, eagerly placing a cardboard box on his hands and apologizing for not wrapping it because you couldn’t afford the wrapping paper anymore, money already spent on the gift itself. He remembers his heart swelling as he opened the box, a beautiful porcelain tea set staring back at him as Isabel and Farlan proudly proclaimed that they also got him a copper kettle and some quality tea leaves to match your gift. He remembers scolding the three of you for spending so much money on such lavish gifts, but you dismissed him and said that it was alright, the little extravagance and months of saving being well worth his present for Christmas and his birthday (which were, coincidentally, the same day).

He remembers the Christmas Eve after that. He remembers the three of you shyly apologizing for not getting him a gift, still recovering from your lavish spending the year before, and he said it didn’t matter because he bought whiskey and cigarettes to share. Faintly, he could still hear Farlan asking him what the hell cigarettes were, and he explained that since the whiskey itself was expensive, he couldn’t afford cigars and instead opted for the cheaper synthetic version of it. He remembers being sat on the roof as you laughed and drank and smoked until sunlight peeked through the gutters on the ceiling of the Underground, clumsily making your way back inside your home to sleep (really, it was mostly you, Isabel, and Farlan who were clumsy. Levi had a high alcohol tolerance and though he grumbled about having to always babysit the three of you when you drank, he always made sure that you were all tucked into bed and snoring away before he himself went to sleep.) He remembers it becoming a tradition for your little family, something that you did every Christmas Eve after that.

He remembers the mysterious nobleman who sat in his little carriage, offering a job to Isabel, Farlan, and himself in return for a generous fee and citizenship to Wall Sina. He remembers rushing home and relaying the news to you as you held his hand, happy that they would be able to go above ground, a privilege that few had. He remembers kissing your forehead and promising to use the money that came with the job to buy you citizenship as well, promising that he would take you above ground and show you the sky. He remembers you crying, tears of joy falling down your face as you kissed him, silently thanking whatever higher being there was that you met Levi.

He remembers his last day in the Underground, gearing up with Isabel and Farlan as they prepared to execute their plan of getting ���arrested” by the Survey Corps and taken above ground to finish the job. He remembers your sad eyes and the way you tried to conceal them with a smile, yet he saw right through your act and promised he’d be back for you. He remembers sarcastically asking what souvenir you wanted for him to bring back after the job was done, and you kissed his nose before saying you wanted strawberries, a rare delicacy in the Underground but commonly found above. He remembers agreeing, giving you one last kiss farewell before they set out to do the job.

He remembers sitting on the barracks’ rooftop with Isabel and Farlan, admiring the heavens. He remembers being in awe of how beautiful the moon and stars were, the way they twinkled and shined in the darkness of the night. It was the first time any of them had ever seen the sky. He remembers smiling as he sat between his two closest friends, a feeling of wonder and serenity washing over him as he made another silent promise to himself that night: that he would show you the sky the way he sees it now, with your little family.

He remembers the horror he felt the day after when he rushed back to Isabel and Farlan in the battlefield, finding nothing but Isabel’s severed head and Farlan’s torso on the ground. He remembers the pain, the anguish, the despair that ran through him as he yelled and cried, killing the titan that murdered his friends and ripped away half of his family before collapsing on the ground, realizing that there was no point because he was too late. He remembers Erwin telling him that he knew what he was up to all along, but he was more than welcome to stay in the Survey Corps if he so desired. He remembers agreeing numbly, mind still reeling at his loss. He remembers realizing it had almost been an entire year since he last saw you, but he was too ashamed and in too much grief to come back empty-handed. He had failed the job. He had no money. He had no citizenship for you. And he didn’t have Isabel and Farlan anymore.

He remembers working hard for the next couple of months, realizing that the longer he stayed alive the more money they would pay him. He remembers the day he realized he finally had enough money to buy you citizenship, immediately requesting for time off on Christmas Eve, planning to finally come back to you and fulfill his silent promises. He remembers stopping by the local market, buying a fresh basket of strawberries as an apology for making you wait so long (and also because he still remembered your request), before heading to the Underground the day before Christmas to surprise you.

He remembers feeling nervous yet giddy as he walked to the location of your home, thoughts of finally seeing you for the first time in so long filling up his mind. Nervousness was replaced with worry the closer he got to your home, and he realized that something was horribly wrong. He rushed to the house, fresh bodies littering the front steps as he tried not to step on them. Blood dripped around him, and he knew that whatever happened, happened recently. The door was already open, and Levi wasn’t sure what he was expecting as he cautiously stepped inside but he already feared the worst. Just then, he heard a loud thump followed by a groan coming from your shared bedroom, and Levi rushed inside. He remembers the way his heart stopped at the sight he saw: you, bleeding out on the floor, multiple stab wounds on your abdomen and struggling to breathe. He remembers dropping the basket he held, strawberries scattering around the floor as he rushed to your side, fear turning into panic as he clutched you in his arms.

“Levi,” he remembered you whispering with a weak smile. Your hand reached out to brush a stray strand of hair away from his face. “You came back.”

He remembers scoffing because of course he came back. He promised you he would.

He remembers trying to put pressure on your wounds but not knowing where to start because you had been stabbed so many times and there was only so much he could do since he only had two hands. He remembers you trying to stop him, telling him it was no use. He remembers yelling at you to shut up, okay? You’re not fucking dying on me. Not now. Not ever. 

He doesn’t remember crying, however. But he does remember you reaching out once more to wipe at his cheeks, and he was briefly aware that somehow his cheeks had gotten wet. He remembers you holding his hands that were still trying to put pressure on the wounds, begging him to stop, Levi, please. You and I both know it’s no use. 

He remembers the unmistakable sound of a grandfather clock’s bell, signaling the strike of midnight. He remembers holding your hand as you weakly looked up at his face, a small smile on your lips as you whispered “Merry Christmas and a happy birthday to you, Levi. I love you.” before your hands fell limp in his. 

He remembers collapsing, yelling out your name as he held your corpse in his arms. He remembers shifting, feeling an empty basket bumping against his leg, and he’s suddenly reminded of the strawberries he’d brought as he rushed to gather them all up with shaky hands and put them in the basket once more. “I brought you strawberries, just like you asked.” He remembered saying, pathetically placing it down next to your head. But it was too late. He was too late.

It was gang activity, most likely retaliation. He remembered the Military Police saying. You’re lucky, actually. They left just a couple minutes before you arrived.

He doesn’t remember what happened after that.

But he does remember that he broke all of his promises to you. He remembers that you never even knew that Isabel and Farlan were dead. He remembers that you never even got to see the sky or breathe in the fresh air. He remembers that you never even got to know what strawberries taste like. He remembers that he was too late. For you. For Farlan. For Isabel. 

He was always too late.

The feeling of something cold and wet on his cheeks snapped Levi from his reverie. He sat up, silently cursing the snow that fell on his face as his hands wiped at his cheeks, letting go of the bottle of whiskey in favor of blindly looking for the strawberries he’d brought up with him onto the roof. He felt numb. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the cold, the alcohol, the nicotine, or his own heartbreak at the memories he tried to suppress. He never allowed himself any time to mourn, instead choosing to keep all those memories under lock and key somewhere within the dark crevices of his mind, only to be opened on Christmas Eve, the day he lost it all.

The day he lost his entire family.

He shifts, suddenly aware of the small box in his pocket. As he took out and opened the small black velvety box, he noticed more snowflakes had melted on his cheeks, the gold ring staring back at his face for a few moments before he angrily closed it once more and shoved it back inside his pockets, its weight feeling as heavy as his heart.

He was too late.

Silently, Levi realizes that snow wasn’t falling. He realizes that the wet on his cheeks isn’t from the snow melting on his face, but rather, from his own tears as they slowly came down in gentle streams.

The bell tower rang throughout the base, signaling the stroke of midnight. Bitterly, he took a bite of the strawberries as he lied down once more, reaching for the bottle of whiskey.

Merry Christmas and a happy fucking birthday to me.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[razorblade180]

Cold confrontation

Strength is all that matters in a fight. Physical, mental, emotional, and intellectual. All of these were classified as strength. To have them all would make you a true threat. It’s what made Carmine a true threat, yet here she was, on death’s door. She gripped her pounding head and gritted her teeth from the sharp pain going through her pain, her body curled up on the numbingly cold marshlands that robbed her the pleasure of a warm end. Just the bitter cold and two pairs of eyes watching with interest. One set was the foe she so foolishly tried conquering, Shiva. It was a tall order. Carmine thought she had worked it all out. Apparently not. The proof was in the second set of eyes watching die. Her eyes. The cold warped eyes of a rose clone watching the original perish. A rose clone made from Diamond Dust.

xxxx

Warmth invaded her body like a wave. Carmine’s nerves jolted all at once and the girl sat up quickly, gasping as if she almost drowned. Her headache was replaced with haze as she her mind came to grips with the fact she was no longer in danger. She was on a couches. A warm one at that, wool covers and all. A fire place glowed nicely inside of a log cabin where several of her Interdimensional friends and siblings stayed. The ones that didn’t leave or was forced to not intervene anyways. Footsteps made Carmine look behind the couch to see Lucas walking with two mugs. He handed one to her and sat on a warm rug safely away from the fire, but close enough to give him warmth from the blizzard outside. He took a sip of his tea and looked at their girl, who was still a little blue.

Lucas:So....how does it feel to freeze to death?

Carmine:Never again.

Lucas:Yeah? Sounds about right. What happened out there?

Carmine:Your future vision didn’t show you?

Lucas:I wasn’t there. All I saw was me dragging your body through the door and when you’d wake up. Whatever went down in those marshlands is your story to tell.

Carmine:Then I rather keep it unspoken. Just know making a clone out of the dust Shiva creates when she conjures ice is a very stupid move. I guess that’s a given. Using an unknown weapon against a foe who clearly knows how it works was doomed to blow up in my face. *holds head* Ugh....crap...

Lucas:You okay? I found you holding your head.

Carmine:Did you see a clone of me with white hair and eyes with a light blue glint?

Lucas:No, Just you. Shiva saw me but didn’t seem bothered that I showed up or left with you. Didn’t hear anyone else besides her either.

Carmine:The clone must’ve vanished then. I can’t sense it. Good. Looking through their eyes and sharing info in more or less real time has always been seamless, effortless too.

Lucas:But?

Carmine:I...don’t know. That clone, it wasn’t me mentally linking with myself. There was feedback or something. It was more Shiva than me, and then traced that mental link backwards to me. Shiva, she got in my head. H..how the hell did she do that? How does Summer cope with that?!

Lucas:Discovering a new found respect for the girl? Wouldn’t blame you, but I think “cope” would be giving too much credit. Whatever the case, did you find anything else worthwhile? Watching you go off to die or comeback empty handed is very discouraging for Yujin and Tenzen.

Carmine:Not you?

Lucas:Oh you know me. I’m pretty good at knowing what’s a good attempt and what is a bust.

Carmine:So why do ask?

Lucas:Had to get the topic rolling somehow. Knowing the answer doesn’t do much without discussing the actual fruit of your labors.

The front door opened and Jacquelyn came walking in with her daughters. All three of them shook snow off their clothes and immediately went to the fire. Tenzen and Yujin must’ve heard the door open because they came from upstairs a few seconds later. Now the entire Lasting Embers crew was here. People from Shiva’s world were strictly forbidden from interacting with the beast and Carmine had sent her people away for their own safety. Between Lucas being a loner and everyone else, Carmine had no ground to stand on when it came to giving orders. They didn’t want to leave, so they didn’t.

Sienna:So how’s dying?

Carmine:Better then repeating myself.

Lucas:She didn’t enjoy the experience.

Jael:I would hope not.

Yujin:You all we’re out awhile. Learn anything?

Jacquelyn:Nothing I didn’t know before. The longer Shiva stays, the colder it gets. It either ends eventually, or we have to make it end. A test if there ever was one.

Tenzen:Shiva is like the main problem in a universe, right? How are we suppose to deal with a problem that grand? With no help from the residents either. Nick must know tricks.

Jael:He would’ve said so before leaving, or hinted. The fact that he doesn’t must mean he’s stumped. Like you said, grand problem.

Sienna:In his case maybe. Here, murder is a viable option. Killing her long enough to revert her back to Summer is an option.

Yujin:Ummm killing a friend-

Sienna:She’ll live.

Yujin:Yeah, and I’ll feel disgusted. I’m positive Summer wouldn’t appreciate being killed either. I wouldn’t.

Jael:Yeah but you’re soft and emotional about every-ow!

Jacquelyn:*pinching her arm* Be nice. Even if we down that route, whose to say we’d succeed? The Void has the benefit of allowing us to go all out but it might not be enough.

Carmine:It wouldn’t. You don’t think I tried a more lethal approach to Shiva. If I attacked to observe movement, then she did the same. It’s clear this is entertainment for her and allowing her opponent to learn what they’re doing is a flaw she happily lets show. However, murderous intent is met with more murderous intent. Her power is used to overwhelm, until you’re left helpless.

Sienna:Isn’t that you’re forte? Your style is based on overwhelming power and visual overload.

Carmine:Completely different. I am a high quality fighter that can create a quantity that doesn’t sacrifice the performance grade. Shiva’s power is based on raw nature. You ever hear of an army beating an avalanche? Some things just don’t scale.

Lucas:If that’s how we’re looking at this then that would mean to beat her would mean to endure. Running or prevention isn’t an option for this avalanche.

Tenzen:Enduring doesn’t sound like one either! Does anyone have the stamina?

Jacquelyn:Doesn’t matter. Her attacks more often than not will bypass aura because of the cold. Then there’s the actual environment. We’ll be cold while she’s barefoot on freezing water. A battle of attrition is the last thing we want.

Yujin:So the goal is speed and power. Okay, we have those in spades. Not to mention I stand the best chance when it comes to taking a hit if it comes down to it, so endurance isn’t completely out of the wheelhouse.

Lucas:We also have knowledge, current and future, to be accurate. Though acting on the the future events is another thing entirely.

Jael:How the hell is this chick contained!? Who’s putting her back in the metaphorical bod in her world? Nick survives this, regularly?

Sienna:Temperature is a factor. As well as the time she’s free. We unfortunately have her out for a long time and in constant frigid weather. We do however have a magical person to help. None of the technology though. Frankly our resources are limited.

Lucas:Talk about a troublesome situation. I’m not made for situations like this. *lays down* Insane odds, all of them pointing to ruin. It’s ridiculous. Nick sure is the real deal, smiling with a looming threat like that never far. Sibling or not, he must be terrified.

Jael:Really, I don’t think so. So what if he has a sister that’s dangerous, life threatening even? That doesn’t erase the love. It makes you wanna reach out more.

Sienna:Is that so? *smiles*

Jael:Don’t get a big head and assume things. *nudges her* Back to the matter at hand...

Carmine:What the hell is our plan exactly?

Yujin:You’re the one who said she’s a force of nature. I mean what beats that, besides a natural disaster?

She chuckled at her own words. For some reason she found them more than a little crazy, so it can as a shock to Yujin when she realized everyone was looking at her with wide eyes, like she’d solve the problem. Then, it clicked. She did provide an answer. All eyes shifted to their own force of nature, Jacquelyn, who was a little unsettled by the attention.

Jacquelyn:Hey now, don’t go getting any wild ideas.

Yujin:But can’t you literally change landscapes? Instead of of focusing on Shiva as an individual, we should focus attention on what’s around her. You can change that!

Carmine:No problem for a full fledged maiden right?

Jacquelyn:Is everyone forgetting the part where y’all are also participating the fight? You’d get swept up in whatever chaos I bring. Not only that, but doing something grand takes effort and concentration. I doubt I’d be able to back you all up faithfully, or protect myself well if Shiva puts her sights on me.

Lucas:Oh that won’t be a problem.

Jacquelyn:What?

Lucas:It won’t be a problem. *stares at fire* I have ideas. No idea how they’ll end, and I’m trying to see for once.

Carmine:That’s concerning.

Lucas:No, it’s perfect. Knowing would mean the plan is either to simple, or not chaotic enough.

Tenzen:Or you’re having performance anxiety and actually aren’t using your semblance.

Lucas:That’s neither here nor there. Alright, everyone listen carefully.

xxxxx

Snow blew ferociously around Shiva’s humble domain. The girl herself sat comfortably to watch a frog hop by. The little creature casually hopped in the cold water and then hopped onto her leg. Shiva gave it a gentle smile, then put nudged back to ground. The approaching body heat behind her gave her no sense of unease, even as a bullet flew passed her head and into a tree. In fact, Shiva found it a bit humorous. She finally rose up to lock eyes with Carmine, who stood with seven clones made from flame dust.

Shiva:Wow, you are a different breed entirely, aren’t ya? I think it’s roughly been a day at best, yet here you are, ready to scrap. Freezing to death would make a regular person filled with fear and think harder about preservation. Or least that’s what I would assume if you know, a person lived through freezing to death. Can’t till if you’re fortitude is immaculate, or your mind isn’t all there.

Carmine:I’ve been known to be a little on the intense and hardheaded side. You’ll have to do more than kill me to keep me down. That being said, no way in hell am I experiencing that ever again.

Shiva:Well good to know it fazed you. I was beginning to wonder who was the real beast here. Carmine Rose, an entertaining individual for sure. Not to mention clever. So....what’s the trick here? *looking around* is it hidden among the trees, or below my feet I wonder?

Carmine:Not sure what you mean. What you see is what you get. (I’m not only Clever one here apparently....)

Shiva:Tsk tsk, let’s not insult intelligence here. We’ve fought to often to do that. I studied you in the same way you’ve done me. Fire clones, obviously I’d sense them along with you, but you know this. You want me sensing them, focusing on it intently. If I had to make a wager, then I’d bet there’s more clones I can’t since from body heat, ice clones. Perhaps rock as well if they dig far enough. No different from slight of hand.

Carmine:Can’t you be dimwitted like a majority of people who love the sound of their own voice? Even if you are right, knowing slight of hand is happening doesn’t mean you can find what’s hidden right before you. Ice, rock, five, or maybe one, you don’t know scope of the plan, or that it’s already accomplished.

Carmine’s words left an air of mysterious. What was already accomplished? Shiva had no time to ask when the ground began to shake and a thunderous boom rattled the air again and again. Explosions throughout the marshlands were set off in sequence. The fire clones around Carmine darted into the trees at breakneck speed, leaving the original to run full force at Shiva.

Shiva conjured a pike of ice to run Carmine through. The attack was pointless however. Before making contact, Carmine bursted into petals. Yet another clone. The real one was never around to begin with. Somehow, the huntress managed sneak explosives around, most likely fire dust, undetected through the marshlands. The assumption about ice or rock clones was beginning to become fact. Not that it mattered at this point. Puny flames in blizzard didn’t bother her. It would take far more heat to hinder any of her moves. Still, Shiva now understood her opponent’s move.

“Her clones are among the flames, but I can’t sense where.” Shiva thought, realizing the heat from the flames was a smoke screen, masking the body heat movements. “Clever, but useless. Snuff the flames and-” a sudden surge of heat made Shiva turn around and get hit right in the face, knocking her to the ground out of nowhere. Shiva sprang up and looked around. Nothing, then boom! A strike against her spine. Again, she did not see it coming. Just a flash of heat before a strike. She sensed it from the left and put up an ice wall. The heat rushed at her, then made a sharp turn around the wall, hitting her gut. It wa still fast, but the detour not only lessened the blow, but was slow enough for Shiva to see the pink electricity left in its wake.

“Tenzen.” She growled, “Why didn’t I sense him before? It was just Carmine’s clones earlier.” The boy landed another blow to her head and tripped her before darting back into the distant trees. He was also using the flames to hide, choosing to attack from seemingly random locations. “He must’ve waited from afar entered after the explosions.” Shiva froze the water around with a stomp of her foot into the soaked ground. Tenzen would be in for a rude awakening on his next run by. That was the plan anyways.

Shiva felt the heat speed by again but from above this time. Back and forth, left and righ, Tenzen bounced the tree to tree. The speed of his movement brought a wind with him that spread the flames from tree to tree. Shiva sent out a wave of frost from a swat of her hand to put them out , but Tenzen was quick to light another. Shiva had to change tactics. She stomped her foot again which caused the ice to spread all throughout and up the trees near by. The ice then stook out like jagged spears.

Tenzen let out an auditable gasp before diving to the ground to avoid getting impaled. “Gotcha!” Shiva shouted, firing shards of ice from her hand in his direction.” The achievement was short lived when Yujin dropped in from above enveloped in her trade mark white flames, sword ready to strike.

“Sun slice!” An intense white flame flew at Shiva’s ice, making it weaker and hitting her directly. Yujin immediately took Tenzen’s hand then was sped off to hide.

Shiva waved of the bother attack. While hotter than the rest, Yujiin’s flames were only agitating. Still... “Okay, now I’m pissed.” Hot and run wasn’t her idea of fun. Neither was not knowing anything. At this point it was smarter to believe everyone was in the forest. Only one way to know for sure. Shiva started running to towards flames and blew them out with a breath. More were to her right from above and below. Weak or not, the flames had to go.

She raised her right hand out to send another blast of ice until a chain wrapped itself around her wrist and yanked her away. Shiva recognized it as Sienna’s and sent ice up it. “Bad move kitty!” She pulled hard once the chain went rigged, a heat signature still on the other hand. Long ice nails formed around her free hand for a counter attack. However, Sienna was not who she pulled in. It was flame clone of Carmine. “What?”

“Surprise...” the clone blew up in a fiery explosion that sent Shiva sliding into a tree. At the same time, dozens of chains shot from the flames to restrain Shiva against the tree; followed by the force of gravity to make it harder to move.

Yujin appeared once again from the flames. This time with a Carmine that held an identical flaming weapon. “Once more with feeling! Sun slice times two!” They both set flames that washed over the ground and set the trees ablaze before they rushed away from Shiva’s building anger.

Shiva’s body naturally froze the chains until they snapped, setting her free. Weighed down by gravity, Shiva grit her teeth and unleashed an immense pressure of sheer cold that would’ve frost bitten and freeze anything living within several feet. Even the white flames went out like candles. More chains came flying out to meet their end by Shiva. A mighty scream let a beam of ice fly from her mouth, shattering the attack.

“Carmine didn’t just clone herself. She cloned herself with her friend’s weapons!” Gravity around began to go back to normal. The flames on the marsh had spread in greater range, giving more room for everyone to attack. Shiva double backed to where she froze the trees. Quickly she conjured more ice and created pillars that were as cold as glaciers. Flames still only remained on the ouskirts and barely moved in. Shiva smiled and created Nick’s blade from diamond dust. “If this is the game you want to play then come on, try your luck!”

They must’ve been waiting for the invitation, because Lucas and Carmine appeared in a flash of pink lightning before her, charging with their blades ready. Ice particles built up to form shards that Shiva fired head at the duo. Carmine slowed her pace to get behind Lucas. “See this coming?”

Lucas chuckled, “Duh.” His eyes darted at every shared coming his way. Each position, distance, speed, target, nothing was unknown from his eyes. He brought his sword up to shatter two aiming at his forehead, then swung down to intercept four at his chest. He spun his katana left to block another seven and then tossed it his right hand, blocking another eight. He swung his blade forward as he transformed it into a blade whip that he used to hook a pillar. “All clear.” His blade reeled him up at out of Carmine’s way.

Carmine smiled, “Show off.” Her body lunged forward. Stamen was swung down to meet Shiva. An ice wall shoot up between them but was cleaned into by Carmine’s attack. Her blade met Shiva’s and th two looked at each other with a shared sense of anger and excitement.

“Awwww, someone needed help?” Shiva mocked. “I guess I should feel honored.”

“No need. Just feel pain...” Their swords separated briefly before clashing again. Carmine refused lose ground. Her blade countered a strike to the face, then returned the attack with a strike to the torso that was blocked as well. The slightest raise of Shiva’s foot made Carmine back step, striking the ground to send a shockwave that met forming ice spikes. A raise of her hand made Carmine grab Pistil and fired a slug shot before an icicle could spear her.

The recoil slid her back because of the ice. Range was the last thing Shiva needed to have. Another, more charged icicle was fired. Carmine shot the ground to launch swiftly into the air. The air around her became colder until ice itself formed into thin sheets as sharp as knives around her. “Lucas!” Carmine shouted. “I know!” The boy sent his whip her to grab and yanked her out of harms way and back to the ground. “Stay close!” He swung her at Shiva.

Carmine used the whip as a tether to slide herself back within melee range of Shiva. Her weapons merged to form her scythe and then was sent right at Shiva’s legs. Carmine overreached to shoot the scythe, causing it to pull backwards, sweeping both feet. Shiva was crafty though. The witch made a platform of ice that raised her just in time.

“Your mother loves that move.” Shiva looked up at Lucas and jumped at him. “Can’t leave you to your devices either!”

Lucas clicked his tongue and jumped as well. The two clashed blades midair with Lucas using his leverage to knock her back to the ground towards Carmine. They had to keep the pressure up a little longer, and Lucas knew just how to do it. He dropped to the ground and bolted towards Shiva. “Carmine! LADYBUG!”

Carmine immediately launched her forward and the two rapidly slashed against Shiva’s defenses by hitting her from both sides with alternating lunge attacks. Carmine would be lying if she didn’t think using this team was cool. She had to remember to try it with Kovu potentially.

Again and again, ice and Shiva’s blade barely deflected the onslaught of slashes. She made the mistake of jumping back to escape and was met with a pull of gravity that tugged her back into the blades, giving her opponents two clean strikes that made her knees buckled. “Gah! Son of a-” she hit the ground. Ice shot up like spikes that ended the team attack. A deep breath calmed her senses, focusing them on the heat. Her eyes locked on to a spot in front of her. “There...” Shiva channeled a large amount of diamond dust and shot it in that direction, causing an explosion of ice. The attack forced none other than Jael to fly up and out of the way.

“Shit, she found me.” Jael could sense the atmosphere around her become lethal and quickly dove back into the tree line. It didn’t stop ice daggers from forming inches from her and getting closer. She was finall met with no choice but to face them head on with her blade. It was by the grace of luck that a chain got her, yanking her up out of serious danger. And of course, it was her sister’s.

“What would you do without me?” Sienna smirked.

Jael smirked back. “Have less hair to clean out of the shower. Now let’s keep going!” They both went their separate ways and continued with the plan. Jael continued watching from the shadows with her sister and the ice clones while Yujin, Tenzen, and fire clones spread the flames as far as possible. “Just a little longer, then it’s all on you mom.”

Lucas was being put through his paces. Micromanaging every event was beginning to wear on his mind and it was starting to show when Shiva bombarded him with a flurry of attacks until one slash to his stomach sent him flying towards a tree. Fortunately, Jael’s semblance made the impact way softer than it should’ve been.

“Lucas!” Carmine shouted. She trued to run to his aid but was cut off by a wall of ice. “Damn!”

“You should keep your focus on me!” Shiva took Carmine head on with overpowering sword swings that cascaded ice shrapnel and air pressure that sent the huntress’s feet sliding back. Carmine’s eyes remained locked onto Shiva like a predator hunting prey. Her teeth were clenched and stance was solid, blocking with all her strength. Still, Carmine was only human. Lucas watched from the other side, stumbling up. His semblance reared its dual sided nature again, showing a glimpse of the silver eyed warrior falling to Shiva’s sword running her through.

He gripped his frost bitten stomach in pain. “Come on body, don’t fail me yet!” Adrenaline and an unknown passion to continue fighting pushed him forward as he ran towards the ice wall. Without having to ask, Lucas felt Jael make his body lighter right as jumped. He went right over the wall and was sent downward in front of Carmine as her block gave out; just in time to block a lightning quick thrust. Lucas slid his blade under Shiva’s at the handle then swung it up, separating the weapon from wielder.

Carmine didn’t squander the opening and made a b-line for it. She reverted her scythe back to a sword and put all of her strength into swinging it down on the ice blade, shattering it. Carmine then whipped her body around and blitzed Shiva, practically vanishing from sight before reappearing behind her to deliver a crushing hit against her ribs that sent her airborne.

Shiva rolled into her landing, head raised with anger. Blue dust flowed from her pores being like steam. The bone white color of her hair glowed with her eyes and her breath shudder out like a final breath. “Die...”

It was instant. One second there was nothing, then a moment later, the ground beneath them glowed with the pillars. Without hesitating, Lucas kicked Carmine outside of the pillars before ice enclosed it like a dome. Inside, hundreds of ice shards formed from every possible angle around him. How could power like this exist? It was too much, Shiva was too much. His eyes couldn’t find a way out, or a way to survive.

“I...can’t escape this.” Fear began to settle in, but before it could consume him, a miracle happenend. A rose, right at his feet. A clone burst into existence with its sword at the ready and back against his. What was once inescapable death in his eyes was changed the pattern of attacks shifted. The fear inside of him gave way to relief as he smiled. “You are just full of surprises. You knew I’d get you outta harm?”

“Don’t need future vision to know you’re the sacrificing type. Can’t have you saving my butt all the time. Better keep up.”

“That’s my line.”

Without another word, hell began to rain down on them. Lucas’s blade switched to whip mode for only a second to perfectly deflect eight before switching back to a blade. There wasn’t a moment his sword wasn’t carving through the and his feet pivoting in a small radius as Carmine swung her her blade just as fast, to the point the both of them became a blur of colors. The constant shattering of ice against steel echoed like broken glass. Neither Shiva or Jael could understand what they were witnessing. It was almost like a dance.

With every ice deflect they saw, there was at least fifteen they didn’t. Lucas and Carmine, constantly flipping and pivoting around each other to block an attack the other couldn’t. The relentless assault chipped their blades to the point of cracking, but they were not worried. At the same time, their hands reached for baton and sheath respectfully and continued their absolute defense. Silver and gold eyes never lost pace. Carmine’s pure athleticism protected Lucas while he did the same for her with his semblance. Seeing and predicting an attack like this was impossible, so he didn’t. Lucas was only looking at one future event, Carmine. Her moves, position, even what way she looked. All of this in just under a second, until, finally...

“She’s distracted...” He muttered.

“Yeah... just catching my breath. You kick hard.” Carmine took a glimpse at Shiva and smirked. A second later the real Carmine dashed by and swung her blade like a bat right into Shiva. The girl’s entire body was sent rolling across the ground and through several trees. Finally, the rain of ice stopped and the clone caught a fatigued Lucas that was rightfully out of breath. They had survived just long enough for Tenzen to come back with good news.

“We’re done!!!!!”

“Get us out then!” Lucas gasped. He was then swept away away along with the real Carmine to outside of the marsh. Yujin and Sienna awaited them. They were covered and ash and drenched in sweat. The sight of Jael flying straight up and out meant they were all clear.

The girl flew as fast as possible out of range towards her mother, who was also in the sky. They looked down at the blazing inferno that engulfed almost the entire marsh

Jacquelyn’s eyes glowed intensely, “she in the middle?”

“Several feet to the right of those pillars. That good enough?”

“Perfect, let’s see her snuff these flames.” Jacquelyn let a rather menacing smile show as she let the wind rage and swirl around the marsh stoking the fires. “Burn!” The wind transform the fire into vortex as wide as Amnity itself, and as tall as communication tower. “Jael, you’re up sweetie”

She nods, “right!” Jael extends her arms forward. Taking a deep breath, she exhales slowly as she focuses on pulling gravity to a single point above the vortex. Jael soars a bit closer to gain more control to the point where a small, dense orb forms. She then lowers it carefully along with her, drawing the down towards it like water rushing to fill a hole. She keeps lowering the point of gravity until the mass of flames have been compressed down to a closed sphere around Shiva.

Everyone begins to close in on the spot, ignoring the crushing hit and terrible ash of the incinerated forest. It didn’t take long to follow the heat of a contained wildlife fire. Somehow, they had done it. Shiva stood inside, firing ice in vain. Nothing was coming out, then she dropped to her knees with her hands pressed on her chest as she tried to breathe.

“H-How is...what is...?” She gasped, not understanding. The flames were indeed hot, but not enough to do this much this fast. It wasn’t the flames at all hurting her. Shiva couldn’t simply breathe.

Carmine sighed, “As much as I would love to explain this like it was my idea, I’m not the one with an A in science.” She looked at Lucas, but jealous.

He had finally caught his own breath and more than willing to pay himself on the back. “It’s not that amazing. The flames might not be hot enough to hinder Shiva directly, but they’re more than enough to mess with Summer, or anybody. It doesn’t matter how strong anybody is if they can’t breathe. That fire prison you’re in? It’s burned all the oxygen and moisture inside. No air. No ice. No problem.”

Shiva fell completely on the ground. Her vision began blurring the faces of her proud opponents. With the last of her strength, she sighed. “Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. About time I leave anyways. ”

xxxxx

“Summer?” A voice called through darkness, bringing light. The girl’s eyes opened to see many ash covered faces and tired eyes blinking at her. She sat up and looked around, confused. “Ummmm why are you all filthy and smell like smoke.” She caught whiff of herself. “Ugh, why do I smell like nature hobo who lit on fire?”

Carmine could and the others could only smile on relief as they fell to ground from exhaustion. “It’s been a long month....”

[cadomoisspokenfor]

Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 4:

Frizzytop

I theorized in episode 2 that David could see through the 4th wall, or at least into a different universe. At the start of this episode Oliver outright breaks the 4th wall. Perhaps powerful reality benders just have that capability. If David knows, and Oliver knows, then Farouk definitely knows.

“A great philosopher once wrote, ‘In times of peace, the war like man attacks himself.’ This is the route of all our problems.”

“We are the route of all our problems. Our confusion, our anger, our fear of things we don’t understand.”

If we carry those 2 quotes throughout the rest of the show, then no doubt the tragedies that happen later on are caused by a collective misunderstanding of each other. And a collective lashing out at that misunderstanding of each other.

“Violence, in other words, is ignorance.”

The most central theme of the show is empathy vs fear. I s’pose whenever there’s a conflict in the show we’re supposed to be asking whether the characters should answer with empathy or fear. Certain characters lives have revolved heavily around fear. And that informs their decision making quite a bit. This will all come up again at multiple points throughout the show.

Syd... probably can’t break the 4th wall. So maybe it’s most logical to interpret this as her inner monologue. Very Jessica Jones esque.

The same voice lines from when Syd was searching for David in episode 1 are played. I guess there go to whenever Davids lost (whether in the world or in his mind) is to transmit Syds voice calling his name in hopes he’ll hear it and come back.

Kerry can pick locks.

The concept of “bad mutants” is well established amongst the veteran summerland crew. Ptonomy’s caution about David is probably because he feels he has a selfish vibe, and that’s a well known red flag of “bad mutants.”

It should also be noted he’s partly afraid of him because he has so much trouble understanding him. His powers, which when used affectively are essentially the ability to understand where someone’s coming from, keep getting overrided by Davids.

It’s now to the point where Ptonomy is doubting his own ability to tell what’s real and what’s not real. He was pretty confident he’d always know somehow in episode 2. Now, not so much.

Ptonomy very early on is open to the idea that David both has powers and psychological issues. “He’s unstable. You try hearing voices for 10-15 years, self medicate with hard drugs and then get dumped in a looney bin.”

Ptonomy also determines that because of his instability combined with the fact he has powers, David is a bomb waiting to go off.

I suppose if we’re trying to figure out their logic with the whole “the combination of being mentally ill and having powers makes him dangerous”, and considering that their right now going over an incident where David robbed his therapist for drug money and then bashed the doctors head in when he came back, the direct concern is that David makes bad decisions and/or selfish decisions (at least), and if he were to make a bad decision regarding his powers a lot of innocent people could get very badly hurt. Or killed. Along with the worry that the voices in his head don’t exactly give him the most angelic of advice at times, and because of his powers he’s very capable of fulfilling their wills, so to speak.

Based on Olivers speech at the beginning of the episode though, it might be safe to say the overall message is instead of acting on fear they should act on empathy and help David overcome his problems instead of vilifying him for his mental illness.

Syd suggest Davids hiding his real memories behind a fake ones and Ptonomy says she going through a lot of effort just to convince herself Davids a good guy. I never really got what he meant, but I guess what he meant is that Syd’s trying to find a justifiable reason for why David would attack Dr Poole like he did when the obvious answer is just “He’s got violent tendencies.” I always just thought she was genuinely hypothesizing, ya know, trying to solve the case. Maybe she was and Ptonomy’s just mean.

“I was looking for the man I loved. Or did I just love the idea of him? The face he showed me?” Doubt springs up early. Why can none of the characters reconcile that a person can have both good and evil in them at the same time? That’s... all people, in fact.

When Kissinger ask if Amy knew David had powers Amy says, “I think so.” Amy potentially acted on fear as well, in regards to her and Davids childhood that is.

Kerry mostly only thinks of herself in relation to Cary.

Cary misses Kerry when she’s gone. Even besides the roles they fill for each other, they generally enjoy each others company. They’re quite literally as close as 2 people can be. Each one living for the sake of the other.

Davids once again surrounded by a crowd of people all yelling in his face. After they disappear though he recovers pretty fast. I guess he’s used to it.

Clockworks Podcast pointed out that the music Davids wincing at is sax heavy Jazz, which is (abstractly) the sound The Devil With Yellow Eyes makes whenever he appears. If my theory about David seeing through the 4th wall is correct, then maybe he’s actually hearing that sound whenever TDWYE is around. Alternatively, Farouk blast that in his head everytime to mess with him.

“Sorry... I forgot about your um... I had a similar- proclivity? Malady? I forget the word- what’s the word? I’ve been here a long time.”

If the previous paragraphs are right, Oliver’s probably implying he was also affected by a mental parasite at some point. It might’ve even been what stranded him in the astral plane.

From Davids perspective he skipped over the entire second half of Chapter 3.

Oliver is essentially explaining the plot of the show to David and the audience before it’s even been unfurled.

“You have an unquiet mind, so you war with yourself, like a dog trying to chew off its own tail.”

David’s still in a very pessimistic guilt ridden place at this point in the story. That’s probably the internal war Oliver’s talking about.

... why can’t Oliver leave the astral plane again? If he did have his own mental parasite, it seems long gone by now. If he just can’t find his way back, then how does he do it in Chapter 7?

Syd calls non-mutants “normals.”

“We were the ghost in a haunted house.” ~Syd, Chapter 4

“You think ghost like living in a haunted house?” ~Syd, Chapter 12

Why does Syd keep hallucinating The Angriest Boy? Or is that just visual metaphor?

Ptonomy’s a very, “Get the job done and look classy while doing it” sorta guy.

“To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.” ~Sun Tzu, Ptonomy

Is the above quote perhaps relevant to the shows message during other conflicts throughout the series? Could it be subtly implying all the characters should always look for non-violent ways to defeat their enemies? I.e. not just a classy line from Ptonomy, but a statement of themes within the show.

The food David, Philly, and Dr Poole are having in Philly’s memories is cherry pie.

In Philly’s memory David says, “I don’t keep a lot of stuff.” And Philly comments that there’s no evidence David had a past. At least among the things David owns at that point. I know Farouk edited a lot of Davids memories, but why did David himself get rid of so much physical stuff? Syd said the reason he broke into Dr Pooles that day was to destroy their taped conversations. What’s compelling him to erase himself from existence? Is it as simple as “Farouk”? It seems like on a deeper level David doesn’t want anyone to know too much about him. Everyone’s only allowed to know what he tells them. His way of feeling in control I guess.

Philly did the classic “I can fix him” when she started dating David.

Philly implies David going off his medication and keeping bad company is what caused the downfall of their relationship. And subsequently his life, probably.

Despite everything, Philly still feels sympathetic towards David.

“Whoever altered Davids memory-“ Ptonomy very early on humors the idea that Davids being acted on by a 3rd party.

The longer Kerry is away from Cary, the more antsy she is for a fight. She’s not supposed to have to sit through all this “boring stuff.”

Ptonomy left after he got the info on Pooles location from Philly. He probably wanted to get the rest of the information from the source. Ironically, they probably woulda gotten closer to the real answer if he’d just looked a bit longer.

Sys proudly says “Yes” when “Dr Poole” ask if she’s in love with David.

It never really comes up again, but Kerry and Cary are physically linked. Maybe even psychologically. When one of them gets hurt, or even exerts their body a lot, the other can feel it, even if their own body doesn’t take on the actual damage. This is still true even if they’re miles apart.

Syds definitely portrayed as the hero at the end of this scene.

“All those years of practice-“ A part of David always knew he had powers. I wonder, did he practice a little in secret? Or is he saying he was at Summerland for years? That doesn’t really add up. But then... what does he mean by years?

Lenny encourages David to get angry so that his powers will strengthen enough for them to overpower the astral plane. Sort of... cheating his way out. David will later achieve more feats of strength through honing his emotions. Like many heroes, his level of power is intrinsically linked to his emotional state.

Very directly here, Davids violence is caused by ignorance. He doesn’t know Syd switched bodies with Walter and is trying to escape.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Fu Manchu

(WARNING! This analysis contains DISCUSSIONS OF OUTDATED RACIST STEREOTYPES! This analysis does not support or condone such things whatsoever and merely is here to analyze the cultural impact of the character!)

"Imagine a person, tall, lean, and feline, high-shouldered, with a brow like Shakespeare and a face like Satan, a close-shaven skull, and long, magnetic eyes of the true cat-green. Invest him with all the cruel cunning of an entire Eastern race, accumulated in one giant intellect, with all the resources, if you will, of a wealthy government—which, however, already has denied all knowledge of his existence. Imagine that awful being, and you have a mental picture of Dr. Fu-Manchu, the yellow peril incarnate in one man."

— The Mystery of Dr. Fu-Manchu (1913)

I think it really goes without saying that the late 19th century and early 20th century were deeply, incredibly racist. One such manifestation of the racism and xenophobia of the times was the villainous archetype known as the Yellow Peril. The so-called “Yellow Peril” is a caricature of eastern cultures, portrayed in a villainous light; the characters are diabolical criminal masterminds who tend to be geniuses, know kung fu, have mystical powers, command barbarian hordes, and dress like the most stereotypical dynastic noble you could imagine. Just think of every single cringeworthy Asian stereotype you can imagine, stuff it into one villainous package, and BOOM! You have yourself a Yellow Peril villain.

You’ve most definitely seen villains that fit some semblance of this trope. Lo Pan of Big Trouble in Little China and Long Feng from Avatar: The Last Airbender are notable examples (and ones that aren’t particularly problematic, as their works don’t rely on some white guy saving the day and instead have Asian heroes). But we’re not here to talk about them, oh no – we’re here to talk about the grandaddy of them all, the villain who codified the idea of a Yellow Peril villain to such… er, for lack of a better word, “perfection,” that even though he has somewhat faded from the public consciousness he has managed to continue inspiring villains up until the present day: Fu Manchu.

While not the first Yellow Peril villain, he is pretty much the face of it. He is what comes to mind when you envision such a villain, which may be because his cultural impact runs so deep – characters such as Batman’s nemesis Ra’s al-Ghul, the Iron Man foe The Mandarin, and James Bond baddie Doctor No among many others all draw inspiration from this legendary Devil Doctor. So what exactly is his deal that has made him such a problematic icon?

Motivation/Goals: So Fu Manchu’s goals started with him being a Chinese nationalist but eventually he moved into your standard world domination, with him developing over time into becoming a sort of noble criminal, a diabolical mastermind with some level of ethics, class, and standards; the man sent his nemesis gifts on his wedding day and always stuck to his word. This doesn’t seem like much now, but you gotta remember, this guy was one of the first big literary supervillains; you’ve gotta cut him a little slack.

Performance: So it is time to discuss the elephant in the room… not once in his long and storied history in film has Fu Manchu been portrayed by an actor of Chinese, Japanese, Korean, or Indian descent. Fu Manchu has always, always been portrayed by the worst possible option in every single case: a white guy in yellow face. Christopher Lee is perhaps the most well-known white man to play him in a serious work, portraying him in a series of films, though Boris Karloff portrayed him as well. 

Peter Sellers portrayed Fu in his last major cinematic appearance, though unlike most other examples that film – The Fiendish Plot of Dr. Fu Manchu – was a parody, which does at least take away a little bit of the bad taste.

The only valid white man portrayal is, of course, from the fake trailer for Werewolf Women of the S.S. As said fake trailer is a ridiculous sendup of exploitation films and trashy cinema in general, the inclusion of a white man playing the fiendish doctor is pretty much part of the joke – but it’s who they got that’s the real treat. We’ll get to that shortly, but before that…

It is honestly really disgusting that in the long history of this character, he has never once been portrayed by an Asian actor. You’d think at some point that someone might at least just cast any sort of Asian due to the unfortunate tendency to view Asian actors as interchangeable, but they couldn’t even do that.

Final Fate: Fu Manchu is notable because he always gets away, even if his plans are foiled; in fact, he’ll sometimes have plans within plans, so even when he loses, he still wins to some degree. But enough about his in-universe fate; let’s talk about the real world fate of the character, where Fu Manchu has a very odd legal status in terms of public domain.

While the first three books are in the public domain, some characters from later books are not considered part of the public domain, which has lead to situations such as Marvel’s Master of Kung Fu not being able to be reprinted for years. On top of this, as the character’s creator Sax Rohmer died in 1959, Fu Manchu is not in the public domain in Europe; this has led to him appearing but not being directly named in Alan Moore’s The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, where he is only referred to as “The Doctor” (amusingly, he goes up against Moriarty in that comic, the character he draws inspiration from).

Best Scene: In what is one of the very few non-offensive uses of the character, Fu Manchu is given a brief cameo in the trailer for Werewolf Women of the S.S. that shows up in the Rodriguez/Tarantino double feature Grindhouse, and he’s played by… well… just watch:

Final Thoughts & Score: Fu Manchu is an absolutely fascinating villain born out of incredibly problematic places.

There is absolutely no denying that Fu Manchu was created from a deeply racist place. It’s an unavoidable fact. There is no getting around it. Fu Manchu as a character was meant to demonize the Chinese, to the point where production of films based on him as well as the novels was halted in times of war when the Chinese were allies. These books, these stories, are all extremely problematic by the standards of today.

But with that being said… who, exactly, is the title character? Do you know, without looking it up, who the hero who Fu Manchu antagonizes is, the Holmes to his Moriarty? This is Fu Manchu’s series, and throughout it he projects an air of intelligence, sophistication, and even honor that you wouldn’t expect would be afforded to a character such as him. As far as racist propaganda goes, an extremely charitable person could be able to call this “progressive” in some regard. Positive discrimination is a step up from regular discrimination, right? Again, there’s really no getting around the glaring problems with the character and his origins, but the fact Fu Manchu is one of the first supercriminals in literature and manages to just be unflinchingly cool to the point where you’ll probably end up rooting for him over the bland white protagonists says something for how utterly racism fails when it manages to make the object of its derision infinitely cooler than the race it’s trying to prop up as superior.

By my own criteria, Fu Manchu could only be an 11/10. I can’t deny how much of an impact, for better or for worse, the fiendish doctor has had on pop culture, to the point where he gave his name to and subsequently killed off a variety of facial hair, a feat only matched by Hitler. But this comes with a disclaimer: I cannot stress enough that Fu Manchu is deeply and inherently problematic on a conceptual level, and that despite how genuinely cool and fascinating he is in the right hands it doesn’t and cannot erase that his original purpose was to demonize the Chinese and Asian cultures. He also managed to help perpetuate yellowface and helped to popularize cliches that have plagued Asian villains to this day. While many in his wake have still managed to be cool and engaging in their own right, it really cannot be said how this character has a very complex history. Has he done more bad than good? That’s not for a white guy like me to determine; I’m merely here to determine the overall quality of the villain and determine their impact, and Fu Manchu undeniably has impacted culture. It would be wrong and disingenuous to break my own rules to give him a lower rating due to his problematic elements, but at the same time I cannot sit here and pretend they do not exist.

I would love to see the day where Fu Manchu can be reclaimed to some extent. Look at Shang-Chi, for example; the (at this time) upcoming Marvel film is set to feature the Fu Manchu-inspired Mandarin as a major character, and he is set to be played by Tony Leung Chiu-wai, a Hong Kong actor. If one of the characters inspired by him can get portrayed by an Asian actor, perhaps someday in the future Fu Manchu can be reclaimed from his racist origins and given the respectful treatment he deserves. Fu Manchu is a character that is in many ways accidentally incredible and iconic. Born from horrendous racism, and yet the racist screeds depicting him always somehow manage to prop him up as the best character in the lot… it’s the paradox of racist thought, to go so far in demonizing their target they manage to make them more interesting and engaging than the generic protagonists. Fu Manchu is a truly great villain mired in the problems of the time he was created; in the right hands, great work could be done with him.

Bottom line is: Rob Zombie, get Nicolas Cage on the phone and start filming Werewolf Women of the S.S.

[atamascolily]

lily liveblogs “terminator: dark fate”, part 3

Sarah Connor knows how to make an entrance.

(parts one and two)

This is in the trailer, and it's just as epic here. The focus on her boots. Then rising up to her face--complete with bulletproof vest, shades, and GIANT GUN as she opens fire. YASSSS, MY QUEEN.

The human-looking part of the Rev-9 runs for Dani but Sarah shoots him off the bridge before he can get her, then drops the gun, switches to AN EVEN BIGGER GUN and fires at the skeleton who is doing that same inhuman back arch to lurch to its feet, and he goes flying in an explosion and lies still. Then she tosses THAT gun away, and goes to peer over the edge for the first half, where the Rev-9 is impaled and twitching and already regenerating. Then she tosses the grenade over the edge, says "I'll be back," in a badass monotone and walks away as Grace registers wtf just happened and pulls Dani away from the explosion, shielding her with her body.

Sarah pulls out YET ANOTHER GUN as the grenade explodes, and keeps on walking without breaking stride. FUCK YEAH.

"Who the fuck is that?" Dani rightly asks.

"I don't know," says Grace, who is hyperventilating and red in the face, and quite deservedly tired. "But we have to move!" And she runs to pick up Sarah's discarded gun and steals her SUV. I’M HOWLING.

Dani is like, "maybe we shouldn't steal this scary woman's car," and Grace is like, "gtfo or die," and they drive away. Sarah is about to dispatch the REV-9, but sees them driving and stalks off in a huff as the REV-9 re-congeals out of the fire.

(I honestly wonder what would have happened if Sarah had taken the time to dispatch the REV-9 ‘properly’ but then this movie would be very, very short, so I’ll give it a pass.)

Grace is dehydrated. Dani's have a breakdown. Grace breaks the news that her father is dead. "It needs physical contact to copy people and they don't survive." Is that an inherent part of the process?? I don't think so, because the T-1000 copied Sarah and she was fine, it's just because they usually KILL THEM AFTERWARDS, it's not a REQUIREMENT or anything. But I give Grace a pass for not going into the details because Dani is already traumatized enough. 

The skeleton stalks down the highway past a dude who looks SO CONFUSED while EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE and the fleshy-looking part starts walking in front of the skeleton and then they MERGE holy SHIT THAT'S CREEPY and there's STILL NO EXPRESSION on his face OH MY GOD.

Grace starts crashing (physically), which is bad because she's driving, so they almost crash for real. Grace faints, so Dani has to drive, oh, wait she can't, yep that ended badly. Dani stalks off to go to the police, while Grace is SO RED and can barely walk, until Grace explains that’s such a bad idea, and all the cops will die. She ends up putting Grace in the back seat and says she'll figure out the driving bit, FUCK YEAH. did I mention I love her?

Grace robs a pharmacy for her meds, much to Dani's surprise and chagrin. Grace collapses, so Dani has to grab the gun before anybody else can and finish the job to get them out. PLEASE NOTE THIS IS THE FIRST TIME DANI HAS HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO SHOW REAL AGENCY*, AND SHE MAKES THE CHOICE TO SIDE WITH GRACE INSTEAD OF LETTING THE AUTHORITIES TAKE HER AWAY. The assistant helps her haul Grace out, and Dani makes a split second decision to trust him which turns out to be justified, because he doesn't try to hurt them.

[[*ok, technically, she showed agency before when she made the decision not to go to the cops, but there’s a big difference between that scene and pulling a fucking gun on innocent people during a robbery. And she only has like a second to decide if she’s gonna do it or not, vs. the conscious deliberation in the previous scene. This is the moment where Dani’s all-in, the moment where there’s no going back.]]

Sarah Connor is waiting for them outside. FUCK YEAH. and she is PISSED. She takes Dani's gun -- "give me that before you hurt yourself," as Dani just fucking STARES.LEGEND.

Cut to them driving through town with Grace sprawled in the backseat with her head in Dani's lap as Sarah drives, and her sunglasses are reflected in the rearview mirror. Dani claims she's just Dani... a nobody, and Sarah says she's got to be somebody for them to send whatever Grace is to protect her. Then she asks for Dani's phone and tosses it out the window.I cannot believe Dani didn’t see that one coming, but she’s had a long day.

Cut to a hotel room, dropping ice cubes on Grace, like you do. "We should have done this in the bathtub," Dani complains. "Have you SEEN the bathtub?" Sarah retorts. Also: a fuck-ton of Lay's potato chips.

"I keep my cell phone in a chip bag. The foil blocks the GPS so they can't track me." CHIP BAG. THE PUN HERE.

"I'm wanted in a couple states," Sarah admits. "Fifty, actually." (she means US, I assume, I doubt she's a wanted felon in Mexico, but...).  

"Why ten bags?"

"Because I really like potato chips." I'M HOWLING.

(are there costcos in Mexico? Just saying.)

Dani grieves over how her father and brother will die unmourned and unburied and you can see the blankness on Sarah's face, how that's so far removed from anything she's ever known for decades. "Funerals don't help them and goodbyes don't help you. You just have to learn to live with it."

Which is a) the truest advice Sarah knows, and b) SO FUCKING SAD THAT IT'S COME TO THIS OH MY GOODDDDDDD.

Sarah pumping Grace with meds and just figuring it will all work out is so in character, and also a nice contrast to her first introduction to battlefield medicine under the bridge in T1. How far she’s come...

Time for a flashback from the future while Grace is unconscious and dreaming!!

God the future war scenes are so bleak and awful and barren and boring to me I can't believe people want a whole film like this, especially when we already know that humans win and the Commander can’t die, so there’s not a lot to milk for suspense.

The Rev-7 bursting out of another Rev-7 is so fucking CREEPY I can't even--

Hey, Grace is rescued and I love the medic (a black lady!) and Grace volunteers to be an augment! I legit thought she was going to say "tribute," lol.

...I don't understand how augmentation works, though. How can they have surgery so good and so clean when everything else is rubble? Are they literally cutting apart Terminators and wiring them into Grace? WHERE DO THEY GET THE PARTS?? I WANT TO KNOW and I don't think this movie's going to explain.

Sarah wakes up Grace by pointing a gun at her and gets disarmed, having locked Dani out of the room, but Grace lets her back in. Sarah's look is withering: "Sometimes, mommies and daddies have to have grown-up discussions." I'M HOWLING. EVERYTHING LINDA HAMILTON SAYS IN THIS MOVIE IS GOLD. Also, I like how neither Dani nor Grace denies this. Maybe they’re just too stunned? I know I would be. 

(also notice how Sarah’s not smoking?? I guess potato chips are the new cigarettes)

Sarah explains some things. Her expression when Grace says she's never heard of Skynet--"Good."--is PRICELESS.

"Where's your son now?" OW OW OW OW OH MY HEART

"I hunt Terminators." RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINNNNNNNNNE AAHHHHH "And I drink til I black out."

Oh, Sarah. I'm so sorry. so so so sorry.

I'll have more things to say about the digital trail later, so this is just a placeholder for now.

That moment where Sarah puts her shades on. Hot damn. Interview and openness OVER indeed.

Grace threatens Sarah, who is unimpressed. "Great! I drive." DRIVING AS A METAPHOR, Y'ALL.

"Legion...an AI built for cyber warfare."

I've seen people pissed that Skynet was erased and replaced by a similar-but-different AI and maybe it's because I love parallel universes and AUs so much, or maybe it's because the Terminator movies represent our relationship with and fears of technology, but I think this was a valid choice and I approve. Because, as Sarah points out, "Those assholes never learn." No. No, we don't.

Sarah pulls off her shades to admit she gets texts from someone she doesn't know, WHICH IS FURTHER PROOF THAT THE SUNGLASSES REPRESENT SHIELDING FROM EMOTIONS/VULNERABILITY, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Grace hacking Sarah's phone -- "future shit"-- is hilarious, thank you very much, and I love that the PHONE CONTINUES TO BE A TRACKING DEVICE THROUGH ALL THREE FILMS BUT FOR ENTIRELY DIFFERENT REASONS. But won't the gov't/terminator/somebody find her through it now that it's out of the chip bag??? How is she getting texts if her phone is always in a chip bag? When is it safe for her to take it out??

Grace has tattoos on her body - "in case I can't remember shit" AHHAHAHHAHAHA, that's hilarious.

Sarah was on America's Most Wanted?? I bet she was. She should add that to her resume, lol.

Ohhh, that's clever that the same plot device gets them to both Carl and Sarah. I like it.

crossing the border is not this easy, but I don't think American audiences can handle that level of realism, and this isn't that kind of film, so... *shrugs*

The Rev-9 is in the data center and it's so creepy. All he has to do is plunge his hands into the cables, and... facial recognition software does the rest. (I don’t think it’s ever stated directly, but I headcanon that LEGION IS A ROGUE AI MEANT TO CONTROL PEOPLE BASED ON FACIAL RECOGNITION SOFTWARE, so it's totally in keeping with its nature.)

On the train, Sarah is eating potato chips. LOVE IT. I don't even like potato chips, per se, but it's a fun character detail and more culturally acceptable than smoking in films these days (the irony!)

flashback to bby!Grace seeing the plane crash and I'm all like I'VE SEEN THE TRAILER, I KNOW THAT'S CHEKHOV'S FLIGHT 3000 TO FORESHADOWING, more plane crashes are definitely coming.

Because the Terminator films reflect our own fears back on us, it's interesting to see how those fears have changed. Now the end of the world is more complex - technology suddenly going dead, then launching nukes and EMPs, THEN world war - fighting over food with humans WHILE being hunted by Legion. It's the same in outline and yet different from Skynet's quick and dirty nuclear war.

Sarah interjects to guess the leader of the Resistance is Dani's son, which is a) a reasonable guess under the circumstances and given the history of this franchise, and b) political commentary about what many Americans fear, namely non-white "Mexican" (as a catch-all term for anybody brown) immigrants and their children coming into their country. It also makes the inevitable subversion--that DANI is the leader, not some man--so much more pointed when it comes, as the franchise critiques ITSELF. still, I kinda wish they dealt with that here, instead of later, though. 

Sarah also makes the "Mother Mary" comparison, which is so funny given the obvious overtones to her own son (his initials are J.C.!) and lampshading the fact this is the first time in-universe that anyone has mentioned the parallels.

Now they're off the train and in a truck, with Dani's head in Grace's lap, yay parallels. Poor Sarah is probably wishing Kyle had been augmented, then maybe he could be there too (why is Michael Biehn not in this movie?? sob).

I'm not sure how the REV-9 just up and assumes they're going to Laredo just because that's where the train goes, especially since they then jump off the train for this... side-quest? What's up with that?? Does the train not go to the border?  

Oh, okay, this is where her uncle lives. Dani tries telling him the truth. It goes poorly. Grace slices a fly in half. Wow.

It's nice to see a black guy and an Asian dude on the border, but my relief lasts for ten seconds because they get sliced up by the Rev-9 posing as a woman of color, oi...

still creepy when he merges with the machine, and how does he know what he's looking for on the panopticon? can drones see faces at that distance? Can he?? I'm so confused.

Of course he tells the Border Patrol that Grace, Dani, and Sarah are members of a drug cartel and sets the authorities after them...

Of course there's a door underneath the wall. of course there is. Random dude goes first, which means he is dead meat. Oh, there was an ambush, but Dani makes the decision they're going to surrender, so I guess no one's dying here?

Sarah is lying to the authorities about being related to Grace, because of her medical condition. Good for her.

Grace senses the drone about to kill Dani and moves to save her! I guess it's going to take the Rev-9 a while to figure out she's not dead?

Dani is in detention and sounds like a crazy person trying to explain the truth. By the way, SETTING THIS SCENE AT THE BORDER CROSSING IS HELL OF A POLITICAL STATEMENT, FYI.

Grace is getting medical care, and they find her drugs. "Nice body search, fellas." Of course, they figure out she's an augment...is this going to influence the future in the same way that Cyberdyne’s discovery of the T1′s head and arm influenced Skynet??

Sarah and the other dude who got picked up with them have a plan. Good.  Let the ass-kicking begin.

[darkpoisonouslove]

“Kiss, Then Bite” Present

See how this storyline sounds when you read all the chapters together. Almost like... they’re parts of the same conversation.

Chapter 2

“I want my life back,” Griffin said, her eyes boring into him with golden flames of anger. He’d had to come to her cell in the middle of the night since she’d been blasting the walls of her cell–they were resistant to magic but wouldn’t throw it back at her like the door would–making the whole castle shake.

And her words made him shake. “You?” he glowered at her, her insolence stirring the rage she’d made his heart shelter. “I spent seventeen years frozen in an ice cube thanks to you.” He grabbed at the magical bars, squeezing hard enough to break them if they were ordinary metal. He almost wished it were her neck under his fingers. Almost. The hatred on her face excited him as much as it infuriated him. He wouldn’t free her from his presence by sending her into the soothing embrace of death. She had to suffer for everything she’d done to him.

“I moved on,” she said, the words a painful reminder of their past together that stabbed him in the heart with the knowledge that he hadn’t even been given that chance. She was etched into his mind by the years of freezing isolation, making breathing an issue even when there was plenty of oxygen since the action itself reminded him of her. “I learned how to breathe without you,” she continued, employing all of her weapons to hurt him. Why else would she bring up the fact that she’d loved him? It had to be painful for her too. It had to haunt her at night like it haunted him. It had to leave her breathless as well. It had to. “How dare you come back?” she spat at him, her face distorted by hurt now. And it was so grotesque. For her to hate him for her suffering after her crimes against him.

“And I couldn’t breathe,” he said. “Because of you.” Air was somewhat of an issue again as the hot of the rage bubbled in him, battling the ice cold of the memories inside him.

Chapter 4

“You robbed me of my entire life,” Valtor said, clutching at the magical bars as hard as ever. He probably hoped the accusation would break her. But he’d need more than that if she was still standing after all these years of loving him. “Did you really think you would ever be free of me?” His grip never loosened.

“No,” Griffin answered calmly. It was a question she’d asked herself often. Too often. “I have never been that stupid.” Stupid enough to get mixed up with him, the pull of his magic so seductive, even now when it was powered by his hatred for her. But not stupid enough to believe he’d ever relinquish his hold on her willingly. So she’d betrayed him and had him imprisoned, hoping to lock away her feelings for him as well. But she’d known he’d come back. In her soul, in her mind, in her bones. He was engraved into her being and woven into her life. “I always knew you’d come back.” She’d hoped she was wrong. She was never wrong. She couldn’t afford to be wrong when it came to him. Not again. There was too much at stake.

“And what good did it do you?” he asked as he let go of the bars and folded his arms, looking content with her admission. “You couldn’t even protect yourself,” he mocked. “Not to mention your students,” he held her gaze, making it clear just how much intention he was putting into this. He’d found her weakness and was thrilled to explore it.

Her cold gaze did nothing against him. He’d developed immunity against her ice now that he no longer wanted to feel her fire. It only affected her, causing chills to run down her spine and she shivered against her will.

Valtor smiled at her, baring his teeth like a predator ready to bite into his prey, his eyes moving to her throat where her heart was pounding in an unsteady rhythm.

Chapter 6

Griffin bared her teeth in a cornered animal’s last attempt of intimidating the hunter on its tail. “Does hurting me make you feel good?” she asked with that heartbroken stare that left him deadly wounded. Her unexpected strategy of admitting weakness worked too well on his unprepared mind.

“Seeing you behind bars definitely helps.” It did. He’d spent so much time picturing what she’d look like in a cell. And he hadn’t been disappointed. It was enough to distract him from the memories of frozen stillness that inevitably flooded his mind in the late hours when he was alone, the warmth of another human being unfamiliar to him since she’d betrayed him.

“Really?” she sounded as if she’d smelled blood, as if she’d found a weakness. When his only weakness was her. The air in her lungs that sucked all the life out of him.

“It makes me feel so much better,” he said. He lied. Seeing her against him so insolent and audacious only stole whatever breath the ice hadn’t forced out of him from his lungs. She wanted all of it. She hadn’t been satisfied with what she’d taken away when she’d abandoned him. She hadn’t been satisfied with what he’d lost in the ice. She would only stop when his Dragon Fire burned out from the lack of oxygen.

“But not good,” she said with a look so painfully sympathetic on her face that it forced all the air out of him no matter how hard he tried to hold it in. Just like she’d slipped through his fingers despite his efforts to keep her at his side.

“After all I’ve been through, I doubt anything short of my ultimate goal could make me feel good,” he adopted her strategy of using weakness to attack. It had worked so well against him. But it didn’t seem to have any effect on her. For she was his only weakness.

Chapter 8

“And Faragonda had told you I was bad for you,” Valtor shook his head in disbelief.

“She was right.” Of course she’d been right. She hadn’t been blinded by feelings.

“Because you were so good for me,” he pulled away as if repulsed by her words. As if he was anything short of one of the worst criminals the magical dimension had ever known.

“I wasn’t bad enough for you. And you weren’t good enough for me.” He carried the Dragon Fire inside. Yet, he’d chosen to plunge the world into darkness. And she’d been supposed to wreck havoc with her dark magic. Yet, she’d turned to the light to save the universe.

“What would’ve been good enough for you?” The genuine question burned worse than his mockery. Had it not been clear enough? Had she really left him thinking he had to go to extremes to win her love?

“Not destroying the universe.” She’d only ever wanted him to not be evil enough to qualify for being sent to Omega.

“I could’ve lived with that,” he said, his negligent tone pushing all of her buttons.

“Could you have?” she pushed back.

“If there was another way to gain enough power,” he said with all the composure of someone who had his priorities figured out.

“Was there ever enough for you?” Griffin asked, bitterly aware that regardless of the answer, she never could have been.

“Nobody thought there was,” he said, looking lost as if trying to decide if he himself was part of that. “They convicted me to an eternity because anything else short of that wouldn’t have been enough for me.” His gaze focused on her. “But we’ll find out together if any amount of your suffering will be enough for me.”

His words had terror creeping and nestling inside her. For she had never been enough for him. And no amount of her suffering would be either.

Chapter 10

“I gave you everything I had,” Griffin spoke quietly but her intentions were loud and crystal clear. She wanted to make herself the victim again. She wanted to make him the villain again. When he was clearly the one who’d had everything taken away from him. Everything from his power to his breath. She hadn’t even spared his memories with her betrayal.

“The only thing I got from you was cold.” His voice came out mellow enough as he kept his fire at bay. She didn’t even deserve the passion he was putting in his revenge. She didn’t deserve his time. She’d gotten enough of it already, too much of it. But the hurt on her face was so alluring, and her suffering was yet another prison for him. Just like her love. And if he couldn’t break free from one, then he didn’t stand a chance against the other.

“That’s not true,” she snapped, having the audacity to object to him erasing her from his past when she was guilty for casting him out of the dimension. She’d left him, yet, she wanted a place in his life. And not even as the enemy whose guts he despised. She wanted him to hold her in his memory as the love of his life. But the only role she had in it was of the object of his vengeance, not that of his desires.

“How does it feel to have a lie thrown in your face?” It hurt her more. The words hurt her more than him. The admission that they’d had something–everything–but she’d destroyed it hurt her more than it did him. And that knowledge helped soothe the burning agony from those feelings that refused to stay dead no matter how much ice he buried them under.

She looked at him, calm enough to think before she spoke which meant it’d be bad. “I know I broke your heart.”

His hands balled into fists and he was certain his knuckles were white with the desire to strangle her. Not out of revenge. Just to keep her from speaking again.

“But I never got mine back from you.”

It hurt him more. Her vulnerability hurt him more. The admission that they’d had something–everything–but she’d destroyed it hurt him more than it did her.

Chapter 12

Valtor glared at her from the other side of the bars. Whatever came out of his mouth next would be bad. Worse than the apparent desire to murder her. “You broke my trust which is worse than breaking my heart.” There it was again. Denial. As if refusing to acknowledge his feelings would make them go away. It didn’t work that way and they’d made each other painfully aware of that. But he’d only admit enough vulnerability to have reason to keep blaming her for everything.

“I did leave you,” she admitted. She couldn’t run away from that, nor did she want to. She’d made the right choice no matter how wrong it had felt to him. Or to her. “But I never used any of your weaknesses against you.” She kept them all safe in her mind. And even though the memories of their past together had been tainted by everything that had come after, she still held on to them, to what they’d had, to the knowledge that he’d trusted her with everything he’d had, including his weaknesses. He’d trusted her–only her–and she’d made sure she was the only one who was allowed that knowledge. She kept it close to her heart since it was the only thing she had left from him.

“That’s because I don’t have any,” Valtor spoke, his voice even and his expression impassive. And it was worse than his hatred. To know that he was trying to fool her as if she couldn’t see through him. To know that he was using his mask against her as if she’d never seen what lay under it, as if she’d never seen his mind and soul.

“Are you trying to lie to me or to yourself?” she asked to anger him. It would be better to see the flames flare in his eyes. It would be more real. Not like the deception he was trying to pull off. She’d accept his anger and his hatred but not the blatant erasure of their history together. He’d barged back into her life so he had to admit she’d been a part of his.

He folded his arms calmly and took a step forward. “Or maybe it’s just the simple truth that you don’t know me as well as you think.” There was no fire in the words and she felt the bite of the cold in her veins.

Chapter 14

“You changed me,” Valtor said, his eyes locked with hers and his face relaxed as if thinking about their past wasn’t painful for him like it was for her.

It was true. She had. She’d made him happy. But she knew for a fact he’d never admit it. So wherever he was going with that would just bring her more pain. It would be another bleeding wound in her chest when he delivered the blow and twisted the blade to cause more damage. That he was good at. They both were.

“Or rather, your betrayal did.” Of course. Of course, he’d deny everything positive she’d brought into his life. It would give him a reason to feel something else other than hatred for her. And they couldn’t have that. Not after all those years of trying to rip the other from their hearts. “My mothers always warned me how unbecoming distractions were, but you were the one to finally teach me that.”

“So I was just a distraction?” It hurt. It hurt to hear him say that. Even when she knew it wasn’t true. Even with the memories of him leaning further and further into her touch and her kisses until they were practically one. Even with the sound of him saying her name as if she was a heavenly blessing still in her ears. “If I was so unimportant,” Griffin took a breath to get her nerves under control and make sure her teeth weren’t grinding together, “then why do you spend so much time and effort on your revenge against me?” He could still lie. He would lie. He would always lie. Even when they both knew she wouldn’t fall for it. Because he’d fallen for her. And that was why she wanted to give him a chance to tell her the truth. She hadn’t given it to herself when she’d betrayed him and she’d ended up in a cell for it.

“Because you are a traitor who deserves to be punished.” It was true. And from the right perspective it could be the truth she wished to hear. But it wasn’t enough for her.

“Is that all?” she quirked a brow at him in a challenge. To rile him up, push him into a state where he’d be unable to consider and control his responses, where he’d be unable to hide behind that mask he wore like armor. It would level the playing field a bit, considering she was his prisoner.

“What else do you expect?” his words shocked her as if the spell on the door had turned her latest attempt at escape back on her.

Chapter 16

“Every time I wake up I’m reaching for you but you’re never there.” Another blade twisted just right into her heart. She could see the truth in the words just like she could see the lie. “Is that what you want to hear?” Valtor asked to make sure he’d reached his aim. Somehow his denial of being hurt hurt her more than knowing the truth about how deep a wound she’d left on his soul. Him trying to erase her from his heart altogether–as if she’d never been there–hurt more than knowing she’d ripped it to shreds.

“It will certainly be closer to the truth.” She knew he’d reached for her. That first morning after she’d left. He’d reached for her to find the bed empty and the sheets cold with her absence. He must have. He must have loved her enough to be hurt by her departure. He must have.

“The only thing I’ve missed from you,” Valtor started and she knew he was drawing back the blade just to push it in deeper, “is that additional power our partnership gave me.” He hadn’t changed one bit. Or rather, he’d reversed back into the emotionless, power-hungry wizard he’d been before she’d touched his soul. He could almost convince her she’d never been a part of his life, she’d never held him in her arms and had never filled his heart with love. But she had. Her marks were all over him and she’d claw at them to make them visible again if she had to.

“You don’t miss the good morning kisses?”

His eyes widened at the memory of how he’d gotten so immersed into them that the rest of the world had dissolved into nothingness.

“The whispered “I love you”s?”

His breath hitched at the knowledge that her love had left him breathless and filled him with life.

“My touch on your face?” She took a step closer and extended her arm towards him.

“Stop!” His voice recoiled off the walls like a whiplash and she let her arm fall at her side as he retreated.

It hurt to see him avoiding her touch like the plague when letting go of her had been his only problem. It still was. For as much as he wished for it, he didn’t have the power to erase her from his life. Just like she didn’t have the power to reach him through the magical bars.

Chapter 18

“How does it feel to lose the thing you love most?” Griffin asked with a cold expression on her face, making it clear just how deliberate the question was. He should’ve known she wouldn’t give up. She never did. She still refused to leave his life after all these years of haunting him.

“I’m doing just fine without you.” A lie. His life had been a downward spiral ever since she’d left him. “I would’ve been even better if I’d killed you before you could betray me.” Another lie. It wouldn’t have changed a thing because he would still remember what it had been like to hold her in his arms and how reluctant he’d been every time he’d had to let go of her. And because he remembered, he couldn’t kill her.

“Is that why you keep me locked up where I can’t leave you again?” She remembered it, too. She knew he’d fallen for her so she wouldn’t fall for his lies. “But no, I wasn’t talking about me. I meant your power.” She knew he was lying so she slapped him in the face with the truth. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she wasn’t talking about herself. She kept pushing back into his life so he hadn’t expected her to have any self-awareness on the matter.

“Probably the same way you felt,” he stepped forward in offense. It was time to remind her that he’d been a part of her life as well.

The response came after a second’s hesitation. “Power has never been that important to me.” It was true but she also acknowledged the importance of how powerless he’d left her, trapped in his revenge where she could do nothing he hadn’t allowed.

“I was talking about me,” he said to help her with the rest of the truth that she had conveniently left out.

Another pause. “I didn’t lose you. I left you.” Another truth. “Because the safety of the universe was more important than my feelings.”

“And how does the coldness of that choice feel?” he sneered, purposefully trying to rile her up. He didn’t need her sparing his feelings. Not after she’d ripped his heart to shreds.

“I imagine you know that,” she said quietly and he couldn’t understand how she could be stabbing him in the chest so compassionately. For her eyes were full of understanding that made the words hurt that much more. How could she know the pain he’d been through when she’d been the one who’d caused it to him?

Chapter 20

“Your eyes can be so cruel,” Valtor said but held her gaze as if he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, as if they were back in the past where she’d been the only thing he would look at, the only thing he’d wanted to look at.

“Because they speak the truth?” Griffin asked, the look in his eyes giving her hope that she’d finally gotten through to him, that he’d let her in, that she wouldn’t have to push against and hurt him. Because he’d always believed actions more than words and she’d always understood why that was.

“Yes.”

 She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A single word. A simple word. Yet, it held so much power even as it admitted vulnerability.      Because        it admitted vulnerability. And it made things much less complicated now that she didn’t have to fight against his denial. It finally allowed her to breathe.  

     She opened her eyes to find him studying her carefully. His breathing was even and barely noticeable and his face was blank as if he’d resigned to his fate. “So you believe me?” she asked, hoping to get some reaction out of him–no matter what–because the dead expression on his face was killing her. She’d only wanted him to not dismiss her pain. She hadn’t meant to hurt him so badly that he’d bleed out.  

“It would be foolish of me after everything that happened,” he said but there was no bite in the words. As if he’d accepted the fact that his death would come from his own hand. “Even when I know you’re not lying.” Yet, his words were killing her.

“Did I hurt you so much that you can’t even trust your own judgment?” She knew she’d destroyed his trust in her, but she’d never thought she’d destroyed his own trust in himself. Yet, he’d still believed her even despite that.

“Yes,” he said and the confession was so cruel. It gave a different perspective on his reluctance to accept she’d been hurt too. And if she’d known, she wouldn’t have pushed so hard. If she’d known... she never would’ve pulled away. She never would’ve been so cruel to him. Even if it had meant being cruel to everyone else. Even if it had meant being cruel to herself.

Chapter 22

“Would you start over if you had the chance?” Griffin asked, but this time the quietness of her voice and the sadness in her eyes didn’t make him want to avert his gaze. Because she looked like his words had finally reached her. He’d admitted his weakness to her, admitted that it was her, and it looked like that had been what had finally hurt her. Yet, her hurt only seemed to hurt him further, making him feel for her again after all these years of being frozen in soulless cold.

“What’s the point in mulling over that?” He didn’t want to think about it only to find out that they’d had a chance but they’d wasted it. He didn’t want to consider other possibilities only to reach the conclusion that there’d been no way for them to save what they’d had. And he didn’t want her reaching that conclusion either, for any more pain on her face would be the end of him now that he’d chosen to believe it was real, believe that she hurt for him, too.

“Would you have made different choices?” Griffin insisted. He should’ve known she wouldn’t give up. She never did.

“Would you have?” he turned the question on her for he could tell there was something she wanted to get out, something she wanted to tell him. But she knew him well enough to know he didn’t believe words. And after her betrayal, he didn’t believe at all.

“I made the only choice I could live with.” It hurt. It hurt just like he’d known it would. But not because of the words. It hurt because he was certain he could hear regret in her voice and he believed he could see it in her eyes. And it hurt him to know he was powerless to turn back time and give her the chance to choose again, to choose him. “But if a happy future was impossible, I’d at least keep the happy past,” she said as if trying to reassure him, and he made sure to cut his gaze from hers because, otherwise, he’d believe that, too. And he couldn’t.

“You wouldn’t spare yourself the pain?” he asked even though he knew. He knew her too well. Of course she wouldn’t. She’d put them both through the same, making him fall for her all over again, making him feel for her again, having no mercy for either one of them. She’d been the one who’d found it in herself to leave, after all, and he still couldn’t understand what kind of fire burned inside her that had kept her from freezing from that decision, that had kept her love burning.

“And deprive myself of the love we shared?” she asked and he hated her for the easiness with which her voice formed the words, hated her for not choking on them. The taste of heaven that they’d gotten couldn’t have possibly been enough for her. It had left him with a gaping hole in his chest that wanted to swallow her whole for he could barely breathe without her.

Chapter 24

“Get out of my head,” Valtor said as if she’d just gotten inside, as if she hadn’t been there all along, as if his words didn’t reveal all of that to her. But what was the point in hiding when she would see right through all of his words?

“I’m not trying to hurt you with this,” Griffin spoke softly, proving his point. She knew. She knew him. All of him. Every thought in his head. For he’d opened up to her and she’d seen them all as if they were hers.

“Then why does it hurt?” He couldn’t pretend even if he wanted to. And he wanted to. He really did. Speaking the thoughts as they were in his mind was too much like trusting her. And trusting her was too much like loving her. And he couldn’t do that. He’d done it once and it had ended in hell.

“Because it was real,” Griffin said. “The love was real.” The warmth in her voice was so repulsive he could barely stand the sound of it. The fondness with which she recalled his time of downfall was driving him away until he wished to leave her like she’d left him. “And so was the heartbreak.” But what really pushed him to move was the lack of ice in her eyes. Because she’d gotten to pick her own fate but he’d had his chosen by her as well. And she hadn’t been a benevolent goddess.

“I didn’t ask for any of it,” he hissed as he turned his back on her to walk away. He’d sacrificed too much of his time as tribute to her when he didn’t even worship her anymore. She’d refused his devotion and now she had to live without it. Just like he had to live without hers.

“Yes, you did,” she spoke, her voice not loud but it had him stopping dead in his tracks. “Your eyes begged me to love you every time you looked at mine and your kisses were pleading with me to stay with the very breath of your lungs.”

His eyes closed and he pursed his lips to keep any unbidden sounds from escaping. He had to drown her out and keep going but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. He wanted to listen, wanted to hear her tell him something that would ease his pain. Goddesses–when benevolent–had the power to heal the worst injuries. And he’d been deadly wounded. He needed her to breathe life into him again.

“Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

His eyes snapped open and he turned slowly to find her eyes pleading with him to believe her. And it was selfish of her to want things from him when she was the one with all the power.

“But you did it,” he said, his voice devoid of anything that could grant her silent plea.

“I had to save the universe.” No, she hadn’t. She’d been his goddess and his only. “Even if it meant destroying my universe,” her voice cracked and her eyes welled up with tears that the coldness of his glare hadn’t managed to freeze inside her heart. “I have never loved anyone else,” she whispered, granting him some mercy at last. “You are the entire universe of my love.” And she’d destroyed it. How had she been so cruel to herself, his selfish soul could never understand.

Chapter 26

“Every time you say you love me, it means a little less,” Valtor said, no bite in the words, no cold, no rage, no fire. Just nothing. An emptiness that a thousand universes couldn’t fill. And it scared her. For she had no power to do anything about it, about him. For him.

“How can you say that?” she asked, the tears evaporating under the sting of his words. She’d just wanted him to believe she hadn’t meant to be so cruel to him. She’d wanted him to give her a chance to help heal his wounds, help him feel again. Even if not for her.

“Because every time you say you love me, I believe you a little more.” She couldn’t stop the gasp the sound of which filled the empty space of the dungeons as she sought air, oxygen. She needed to breathe. And his words were making it simultaneously easier and harder. “And that makes it a little more meaningless.” The air she’d just drawn in was knocked out of her. “If you loved me,” oxygen filled her lungs again, “but you left me,” she couldn’t breathe again, “did that love mean anything?” His eyes were begging her to speak up and convince him otherwise, and she found her voice somehow, even if she was still out of breath.

“It meant everything,” she spoke and the strength of the words seemed to wash over them like a wave of magic and save their lives. “Would something meaningless hurt this much?” That seemed to convince him further for they’d both felt the pain flaming through their hearts and burning their whole lives. “Would it set your heart ablaze with hatred if it hadn’t set it with love at first?” They both knew he hated her. They’d both felt it. But she’d hated him, too. For not loving her enough to pick her. For making her choose. For making her lose him.

“It’s not burning, Griffin, that’s the thing,” Valtor spoke, spoke her name, drawing her attention to him for her to realize she’d lost him again. “It’s just empty,” the tone from earlier was back and it scared her again. It scared her because now it left a void between them. “It’s empty and it’s cold. And you clearly don’t feel the same.” She felt terror suffocating her again because their fate was in his hands and he’d never been merciful.

“Valtor-”

“You don’t feel the same.”

She waited with baited breath for him to continue, praying he wouldn’t choose to doubt her pain again, wouldn’t revert and destroy the progress they’d made. They’d fought tooth and nail for it.

“And that means you never hated me,” he opened her eyes, pried her lids open with a force akin to a storm. And it seemed to do the same to him. For he was looking at her in a way that almost made her wish he’d never believed a word she’d said.

Chapter 28

“When did you know you were going to leave?” he asked, changing the topic abruptly just like she’d expected. It wasn’t the question she’d expected, but they’d make their way there, she was sure. They’d both had a revelation. And while it mattered to her to know she’d never let any hate for him in her heart, that hadn’t changed her reality. But she suspected he’d been given a new perspective. She knew he had. He looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time and he couldn’t make up his mind when it came to whether to hate her or love her. And she wasn’t sure she’d survive the choice he made.

“I didn’t. Not until the moment I left.” It had been a torturous balance on the edge, until one day she’d jumped to the death of their relationship. She’d never wanted to do it – it had felt like murder-suicide. But she’d had to. She’d had to end it before it killed them both.

“How could you leave?” he growled, and the fire was back. It burned like fear burned. For he was afraid of her answer, and it killed her to see him so frightened, killed her to see him so frightened of her. He’d grown up in fear, raised by the most fearsome witches in history, and she’d promised herself she would only help him heal. Yet, she’d hurt him worse than they ever could have, for they’d never loved him. What kind of monster did that make her?

“I couldn’t,” she shook her head. “Not fully.” They were still in each other’s hands. “It’s why we’re here.” In each other’s eyes. In each other’s lives. He kept dragging her back, unable to let go of her, and she knew she’d be as angry with him as he was with her if he ever did.

“How could you leave my side?” he asked, and now the fire burned like hurt did, like a stab wound did. When she’d only wanted to spare them. All of them. Him, her, the world. She’d wished to save them, for they’d already had too much blood on their hands. She’d just stabbed them in the chests instead.

“I had to.” She couldn’t have stayed. Heaven knew she’d wished for nothing more. But that would’ve been the end of them both. At least now they were still standing. Even if they were doing it on the opposite ends of a battlefield, on both sides of the bars that now separated their lives.

Chapter 30

“You can keep trying to blame me, but in the end,” Valtor stopped to take a breath as if he didn’t have enough air to speak, “it’s all your fault.” His hands balled into fists, but this time, ironically enough, she knew he didn’t wish her dead, didn’t wish to strangle her. For that would leave him alone with all that misery that her choice had inflicted upon them. And he’d been alone against it for far too long.

“You were the one who gave me a reason to leave,” she said but she wasn’t trying to point fingers. They were finally telling each other the truth. And the truth was that there’d been exactly one reason behind her decision. But it had been big enough to come between them and tear them apart.

“Hadn’t I given you enough reasons to stay?” he asked and she could almost see the memories playing in front of his eyes now that he wasn’t running from the happiness in their past.

“Of course you had.” It was what had kept her from leaving for so long. All the little things they’d had. The warmth of his body under her hands. The sound of his voice whispering her name in the middle of the night. The love he’d kissed into her skin every time his lips had touched her body. She’d wished to hold on to all that, to keep it safe from the clutches of hate.

“Then why didn’t you?” he asked, and it still surprised her when she couldn’t feel the bite of the words. Because there wasn’t any. All that was left in his voice was a plea for help. He was begging her to help him understand what had gone wrong between them.

“Because I was afraid if I stayed, I would give myself a reason to hate us.” She’d been terrified that one day she’d wake up repulsed by the touch of his blood-stained hands. So it had been better to wake up craving it when she knew she could never have it instead of trying her best to avoid it when she was in his bed. “I was afraid I would give us both a reason to hate each other.” That they wouldn’t have survived. Not with their fragile hearts.

“I hate you,” Valtor said because they were finally telling each other the truth. And somehow, the lack of fire burned worse, for he wasn’t trying to hurt her, and yet, it hurt.

“Because I left,” she pushed herself to speak and was rewarded to see him finally understand, his eyes widening as he was trying to comprehend what she’d just said to him. “Not because I stayed.” That would’ve been the real tragedy. Seeing him hating her for staying with him would have been the thing that would have truly finished her.

[spiftynifty]

TeeVee Podcast’s Voltron s8 review

I’ve been waiting eagerly for TeeVee’s review of s8. If you recall, their s7 review was what gave us the man getting choked up about Shiro’s relationship. 

The link to the podcast is here but if you’d prefer a sort of transcript, here are some of the highlights for me. I didn’t always catch who was speaking but I wrote down initials where I could. S=Shanon, A=Antony, M=Moises, C=Chip D=Dan. The panel is divided on their feelings on the season. 2 of them seem to have hated it, one liked it, one thought it was fine, and one feels mixed about it. Anyway here we go, some great quotes ahead. 

Under the readmore cuz it’s long. 

S: "After 7 seasons of a show that was going to be one of the animated series of the decade, they not only did not stick the landing, they fell on their butts, rolled off the mat, off the lines, into the judge's table and their leotard popped open"

"A lot of the plot was callbacks to things from seasons ago that we really probably didn't need to see again." "I wasn't entirely sure that they weren't gaslighting me."

Man Shannon is calling out some great points. She's calling out the dropped druid plot thread, and wondering what the point was of showing Lotor's past when he's dead, and nothing can change in his present and his redemption can't really happen.

A: "endings are hard. I was disappointed with this season [...] it was let down by poor plotting and that final battle made me throw my hands up in despair most of the time. But I have enormous sympathy for the EPs. Maintaining a longform episodic story is hard. And to pull off an ending that satisfies even MOST of the audience is harder yet. and let's not forget they were always upfront that vt always had 'editorial interference' from up top. Toys, the fact that it's aimed at children, corp resistance to some of the more modern social issues that they've tried to tackle. THAT SAID, we don't know what happened on this production, who had the final say, what they argued over. and I say this cuz a lot of the fandom drama over it assumes a LOT over how media and entertainment like this is made that simple ARE. NOT. TRUE. Some of the stuff I've read has been ABSURDLY offbase, like that there were different writers rather than just 1 the whole way through which ignores how TV is made. And if you think these writers just go off and write a script without talking to anyone first and then they come back with something that must be filmed without any changes, THAT'S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS. [..]we don't know who made these decisions. The studio isn't always the bad guy. Sometimes they rescue things that would otherwise have been a horrible mess. And unless you were IN THE ROOM, you don't know, and neither do any of us. So let's all bear that in mind. [...]You can't lay the blame OR credit on any one person. For any of this." 

They're laughing & making so much fun of the final 3 episodes and how baffling they were. 

"Don't even get me started on Voltron merging with Atlas [and the crew disappearing] that was a bad, bad idea." 

"But that was the ONE time Shiro was back with the team!"

a couple dudes are relatively ok with the Allura death because we've never seen a WOC heroically sacrifice herself for the universe and usually it's the Shiro hero character D: They also point out that technically she wasn't fridged so.. yay?

Antony and Shannon vehemently disagree. 

A: "My problem with that ending was more just that it was... not. good." he makes a comparison to RotJ where Vader still dies and it's his SON, who lives, who 'redeems' him. "This was none of those things. It felt like a terrible lesson. You can be so evil that you kill literally billions of people for 10k yrs but if you say sorry just before you're about to be executed it's alright, dw about it, we'll put the universe back to rights. NO, that's a terrible lesson!!"

S:"They had the LIONS. That's my problem. Throughout this series we've had stakes going up but there has always been a trading of ideas, what can we do, what can we figure out, up to the point where they wind up sacrificing the castle, but they go through steps before that 'is there anything else we can do’. And here, there's not even... she didn't even get to say goodbye to Coran! This is the one character, WOC, and she has sacrificed throughout this entire series. She lost her planet. She lost the last connection she had to her father in the AI. She kept LOSING things over and over to the point where she sacrifices her crown to help Shiro. and the thanks she gets is that she has to turn around and say nope I've got to away and fix all of this and apparently never see you all again. It really, REALLY REALLY bothered me. All of my friends who have CHILDREN who watch this show, universally the kids were upset and angry and tearful and HATED that outcome. This did not feel like a triumph. Having to lose Allura like that robbed any kind of triumph in the success of saving all the universes. And I think that's one of the reasons that this last part of the season sits so poorly with me. I feel like it should have ended in a triumphant way. even if it meant losing a couple of the team members or the lions. Of course that takes away the toy aspect which is why that's not an option. We already had several tragedy arcs in this series. Zarkon, Honerva, and Lotor had tragedy arcs. Why does Allura have to have one too? We've had enough." 

Antony & Shanon KILLIN IT on this podcast y'all.

C: "This series relies so much on 'oh wait, there's a new upgrade', 'oh wait, there's this new thing'" A: "Well that was the entire final battle." C: "So there's this handwavy Allura has to sacrifice herself. The heavy lifting wasn't done to make this an earned moment."

S: "I do think, whether it was at the direction of DW or WEP (Vld IP), without those little epilogue cards, there is the potential opening that Allura might be able to return.[..]It was open to interpretation."

One guy likes the Shiro ending for the surprising progress aspect, even though he's not thrilled about how it was put together. also he isn't convinced the epilogue wasn't planned. He likes a lot of s8 but all the stuff he likes is tied to stuff that he really didn't like.

S:"The shiro card is the other reason that I think those things were shoved in. For me, that turns Shiro's entire character into a token when he wasn't before. When they introduced his sexuality, it was done BEAUTIFULLY. There was this conversation with his significant other a mature relationship that ran into its problems and therefore couldn't happen anymore. Adam could've been Adele, and nothing would have changed about that conversation. It was not the defining characteristic of Shiro. It was just something else about him."

S: "And then s8 happens and Shiro is divided from everybody on the team. There are so few interactions of any kind that aren't just barking orders. or making plans. Keith is the prime example. Their friendship had been a backbone of this series and suddenly they can't even stand more than feet 5ft from each other. 

A: “It’s barely evident, yeah.”

M:”And the same with the rest of the main cast. And if they had set that up at the end of s7, that he’s going to go into the background a bit, it wouldn’t have felt as weird.

S: “And they didn’t! S7 was miraculous in the fact that even though he’s no longer in a lion, he’s still got a vital part to play in the series. And s8 erased that. It pretty much neutered him! And the kind of message is once you've revealed this character to be gay, we've gotta keep him out of the way. And if they had not put those end cards in, again the fact that he's a gay man is just the fact that he's a gay man and it's not any bigger or smaller aspect of his character, but they did not EARN him marrying random bridge crew member #3."

A: "and RETIRING! A man who LEFT adam because he felt he had to go and fight."

A: "He left the guy he loved before because of his devotion to"

S:"To fighting to making things right"

A:”To being a soldier and doing the right thing.”

C:”Isn’t the whole point then that he achieves that?”

M:”The fighting’s over and he can leave that behind and he can actually be happy.”

S: “He wouldn’t’ve. I don’t see it.”

M: “I violently disagree.”

C: “I think it was a nice endcap for his character."

Moises also likes this because it’s not a BYG scenario and he gets retired. Shannon is extremely exasperated by these takes. 

S:”For me, it’s like Tangled. You go through Rapunzel and Flynn, going through their adventures, getting closer, getting to know each other, they save each other, things like that. And then she’s reunited with her parents and then we get and endcap that says ‘for political reasons her parents decided they needed to marry her off to the prince in the next county, sorry’. That would’ve had people RIOTING. Thats not how you do a story with characters that people care about. And to shove shiro off onto this random character that we--his name is never spoken!”

A:”No he had like 3 lines in the entire season.”

S:”He had 3 line sin the season, you don’t know his name unless you watched the subtitles, and in the audio narration for the visually impaired, they called him Adam in the endcap. They called him Adam! They fixed that now. It feels like a hugely clumsy attempt to grab the woke points for a character that didn’t need them.”

Moises then talks a little about Shiro and Keith and how he and Shannon both thought there was something there, and still do, but they can’t know what happened behind the scenes and to theorize on the intent of that relationship is “conspiracy theory land” and trying to decide what the writers were prevented from doing is like “reading tea leaves and chicken bones”. He references people extracting things from his own writing. 

M: “As much as I wanted to see that relationship flower and flourish, the fact that it didn’t, look, it’s one of a million times that’s happened for me, with fiction, where things didnt turn out the way I wanted to see them.”

S:”I’m talking about 2 different things, as far as Shiro’s character, vs shipping  issues. I feel Shiro’s character was done a disservice that if they were going to end him in a relationship with another man, they didn’t earn it by throwing that little endcap on.”

M:”Yeah, they could have brought back one less robeast or something.”

S:”The other thing is, I think there is enough out there as far as interviews with JDS and LM to show that at the very least I think they meant to leave it openended. Again  if you take out that endcap, the last shot includes a shot of just Shiro and Keith, together, same screen, looking up as the lions go away, without saying anything further. I know I pie in the sky hoped that they were gonna kiss this season when we did our s7 recap and yes that was the shipper in me talking. I truly did not expect that they would be able to go that far. What I did not expect was for them to tear it down. And I feel like that’s what they did. Between the complete absence of interactions in s8, and then throwing that epilogue in there.”

Dan doesn’t understand how that could be because he sees no reason for them to do that. Shannon patiently explains about DW’s history with LGBT characters but Dan insists that the creators told the story the way they wanted to and he’s fine with Shiro getting a marriage even if it’s a character they don’t know. 

Overall the panelists love the show still, and in most cases prefer to consider it in the realm of s1-6 with a weak final double season (7&8) or that the show ends after s7. They would all love to know how long the NDAs last, a making of perhaps, to know what the heck happened and what changed along the way. Big mood my dudes. Big mood.

[hoodoo12]

That Was How

I had this very nice request, and wrote it up.  hello would a story about the bartender meeting the original c-137 rick be ok? Because i'm curious as to how she knew about him and the mind erasing so maybe some backstory?

Anon, I hope you’re still around. I enjoyed writing some backstory very much, and it ties in to some information in an older story called What Evil Lurks in the Heart of Rick.

SFW, Rick c-137/Bartender

⁂

You’d been working in this dive bar for a while now. Nothing fancy, nothing hip; just pulling taps and serving the occasional mixed drink if a tourist accidently wandered in. It was dark and smelled of old cigarettes from the time before smoking wasn’t allowed in public places. You were mostly content.

There were regulars who you knew by name. You liked your job, but some times, you got an itch to do something. Be something more. Your options were limited, however, so you didn’t.

“Hey. I think that guy’s pukin’ in the restroom,” Rob, one of the regulars who shuffled in after his shift so he didn’t have to go home and deal with his family, announced unnecessarily.

You had heard, and the retching from the restroom seemed amplified.

You groaned.

“I’ll give you a free beer to check on him,” you offered hopefully.

“You know you ain’t allowed to give out free beers!”

Frowning, you had to nod. The owner of the place had threatened to terminate you when he found out you’d occasionally given away product to the people who spent a lot of their time here. “They’ll pay for it,” he’d yelled. “Don’t give it away!”

Rob smiled drunkenly at you. “If you pay for another pint, I’ll go . . .”

Your salary didn’t allow you to be that altruistic.

“Never mind,” you sighed, wiping your hands on one of the towels under the bar. “I’ll go see how he is.”

Rob waved at you as you left your workspace. Walking to the establishment’s only restroom, the retching hadn’t stopped. You knocked on the door, lightly. “Hey. Hey. You okay in there?” you asked with your head near the crack between door and doorframe.

Your answer was another bout of retching and the unmistakable sound of liquids hitting the water in the toilet.

“At least he’s not pukin’ on the floor!” Rob called to you gleefully.

Thank heaven for small favors, you guessed. Out loud, you said, “You need help?”

There was a groan in response.

Steeling yourself, you grabbed the doorknob and found it wasn’t locked. Although you half-hoped it would be so maybe the guy inside would have the chance to right himself, at least you wouldn’t have to get out the toolkit and unscrew it to get in. You weren’t incredibly happy about barging in on a vomiting man--that was nowhere in your job description!--but having someone pass out and choke on their own puke wouldn’t be a great alternative either.

“I’m coming in,” you announced.

You followed through, and found the old lanky guy who’d stumbled into the bar earlier hugging the toilet. He’d filled the bowl with pure bile-colored liquid; in your experience you knew that meant he’d been taking in only alcohol for a while, with no food in his stomach to help absorb it.

He looked haggard and pale; his eyes bloodshot and sunken. He had strings of yellow drool dangling from his lower lip. When he picked his head up to look at you, he wiped the back of his forearm and hand across his chin, and managed to smear some of the drool into his hair. Before you could move further into the room, he lifted himself upward enough to vomit into the toilet bowl once more.

When he sat back down on the floor with a groan, some of his color had returned.

“Gotta purge that swill they call Plutonian vodka,” he croaked, as he gave you a weak smile and a wink.

That was how you met Rick Sanchez.

⁂

You’d helped him clean up a little after his little evacuation in the bar’s toilet by offering him actual cloth towels instead of the cheap paper ones available that disintegrated on contact with water. He wiped his face; you swallowed your gorge and wiped his hair. Then you held his arm to assist him back to a bar stool and gave him a glass of water.

He scowled at that and requested a shot of vodka, neat.

“N-n-none of that Plutonian shit!” he’d demanded, as if you acted like you even knew what the hell he was talking about.

Gently you nudged the glass of water closer to him. He stared you down; you stared back, and he finally took it, although he coughed through the first few swallows. Then he asked again for that shot of vodka, pretty please.

Rob looked like he was going to say something. Come to your defense, maybe? Recommend the guy get the hell out? Call the cops? But at the first syllable that tried to come of out his mouth, the old guy whipped around and scowled so hard at him Rob choked off whatever he had thought to say. You saw the new guy’s free arm tense, a little, and Rob glance down.

Your regular customer gulped and in a rush of movement, he pushed away from the bar and stammered he had to get home. He threw a handful of bills on the bar and was gone before you knew it.

The new guy watched him go with narrowed eyes. You had no idea what just happened or what Rob may have seen out of your line of sight on the other side of the bar. Once Rob was gone for good, he turned back to you with a wide smile.

“What’d’ya say, baby? Set me up a drink and I’ll buy you one too.”

You find this guy in the bathroom, puking his guts out, wipe vomit out of his hair; he does something to intimidate a regular patron of this place; and now he wants to buy you a drink? What was next, him crashing on your couch?

Yes. That’s exactly what happened next.

You took him up on his offer to have a single drink with him. He launched into a wild story about his life. None of it made much sense, but he didn’t seem the kind of crazy that was going to end up stabbing you; he seemed the kind of crazy that was full of fun and adventure. He had to be an author. No other person could com up with the outrageous stories he told you. 

When he mentioned that he’d been drifting from place to place recently and was looking for somewhere to crash for the night, you did suggest your couch.  With a smug grin like he’d been waiting for you to offer, he took you up on it.

That was how Rick Sanchez came into your life.

⁂

He wandered in and out of your life randomly. He’d show up at the bar. Occasionally you found him snoring on your couch when you came home. There was never any rhyme or reason to when he would arrive, and he sometimes just disappeared again without explanation either.

Once, when you pinned him down enough to at least have breakfast with you, you mentioned you’d love to read one of his books sometime.

“Books?” he replied, completely baffled.

“Yeah. Can you give me a title or two?”

With his forkful of pancakes halfway to his mouth, he frowned. “I don’t know what the-what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Your books!” you said in exasperation, as if repeating it was going to make it clear. “All these stories you’re telling me? About different planets and different booze and the interdimensional travel--you have the whole world-building down to an art! Is it like a series or are there standalone novels? Tell me where to start, I can’t wait to read them!”

Rick set his food back onto his plate in a deliberate motion.

“You think that I-I-I am making up everything I’m telling you?” he said in a low, even voice.

You’d never seen him so serious, but you laughed anyway. “Yes! Of course!”

He scowled.

“You’re an idiot,” he announced, and reaching over the table, he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to your feet.

As you cried out in scared protest, Rick pulled a device from the inside of his lab coat and from it, produced a swirling green and yellow circle of opaque light. Ignoring your fright and confusion, he pulled you through it into another world.

That was how your adventures with Rick Sanchez started.

⁂

His visits were still erratic, but when he did deign to take you with him, he showed you things you couldn’t have imagined. Rick was your guide from one end of the galaxy to the next; he escorted you into new dimensions filled with wonder and horror. You visited with unique people living nothing like you’d ever seen. You saw worlds that were nothing like anything on Earth.

You drank with Rick at a hundred different alien bars. You accompanied him to places he had to do ‘business’. Although full of contempt that you were such a tourist and a rube, he introduced you to so much more than your entire life could have been.

You discovered that your life was not even a speck of dust in the scheme of the universe, but instead of being crushed by the knowledge, you only wanted to learn and see more.

You’d become conditioned to get excited at the sound of a portal. You looked forward to seeing his unruly blue hair and boney build. You imagined what it would be like to hug him. You had dreams about what it would be like to be naked with him, in your bed.

That was how you fell in love with Rick Sanchez.

⁂

When you realized that you had deeper feelings for him, you were giddy and nervous and moonstruck. You’d never imagined yourself with an older man; you’d never imagined yourself meeting someone in such a random way who would mean so much to you.

You were just being silly, weren’t you? You couldn’t have fallen in love with this guy who just showed up out of nowhere. Right? It was just the thrill of going on adventures. It was just the idea that he singled you out. Right?! There was no way you were thinking about a serious relationship with him!

The two of you hadn’t slept together. You hadn’t even shared a bed; every time he crashed at your place he passed out on your couch! You’d never had a kiss, never had any intimate touching unless you counted when you held his elbow to help him out of the restroom at the bar.  Rick had never brought up anything of the sort; in fact he scoffed and derided any couple you happened to see on your travels. You’d heard his rant about ‘relationships’ and ‘biological need to breed’ more than once.

But you couldn’t deny that you got a thrill in your stomach whenever he showed up. You knew you were flushed around him, you could feel the heat in your cheeks and your palms felt damp. Sometimes it was hard to hear what he was saying over your pulse pounding in your ears, and the times you were close enough to smell him, it was intoxicating.

You knew he wasn’t celibate. You hoped he wasn’t celibate! Firmly you told yourself the next time he showed up, wanting a place to sleep for the night, you were going to take him to bed. You were going to show him what you thought of him. You were going to give him the best sex of his life!

When he did arrive--unannounced, as usual--at your small apartment two weeks later, he was harried. He was preoccupied and anxious. None of those three things were anything you’d associate with Rick.

Still, you gave him the drink he asked for and, steeling yourself, you told him you wanted to talk to him about something important.

He downed the tumbler of vodka you’d handed him, belched, and took your hand.

“No-no, I’ve got to, I’ve got to--there’s something I have t-to tell you first, baby,” he said.

His touch made butterflies float in your stomach; his words tied them up in knots.

“This is impor-important,” he insisted. “I should’ve told you this a long time ago.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You were glad you opted for a matching, lacy bra and panty set today, because you couldn’t wait for Rick to see you in them, and then for his large hands to strip them from you.

“I’m in big trouble,” Rick continued feverishly, “and I think you are too.”

With no further explanation, he opened a portal and took you someplace new.

It was an apartment. It was only slightly bigger than the one you’d left, and maybe slightly nicer. You looked around, wondering if this was his place finally.

“I hope this is okay. I think it’ll be okay,” he said.

“What?”

Rick waved off your question. “I’ve paid for it, but there’s a monthly fee, like a home owner’s fee you’ll have to cover. There’s amenities like a pool and shit on the first floor, and a grocer’s and stuff nearby. It’ll be perfect for you.”

“Rick, what are you talking about?”

“I got you some clothes and stuff too. In the cl-closet. And extra towels and sheets. I know you like the heavy sheets with the high thread count. I snooped around your place. I know how creepy that sounds.”

None of this made any sense, and your arousal was starting to sour to fear. “Rick--?”

“Come on, I-I-I’ve got something else to show you.”

Before you could protest, he pulled your through another portal.

You stepped out onto a rocky plateau. You could breathe, but the atmosphere was thin because the stars in the sky were crystal clear and it was almost too cold. There was no vegetation. Straining your eyes, you could see the edge of it as well. This wasn’t even a planetoid, this was a desolate chunk of rock drifting through space.

You realized you could see your shadow blinking on and off from a yellow light behind you. Turning, you saw a single building with a flashing neon sign. The words were written in an alien language, but as you stared at them, they started to morph into something you could read.

Before you could fully make them out, however, Rick took your shoulders and turned you to him. 

“I am so sorry, baby,” he said, and he sounded genuinely upset. “The Feds are after me. They got pretty fucking close this time--”

“The Feds?” you interrupted, your gaze inadvertently drawn back to the sign you could almost read now.

“The Galactic Federation!” he said angrily, but that didn’t actually explain anything. “They’re hot on my goddamn tail, and I’m going to have to lay low to shake them off.”

His barely controlled panic finally, really, caught your attention. “What do you mean? What are you talking about, Rick?”

“I’m going to have to live with my family,” he replied, as if that made any sense either. “That’ll keep me safe. But I think you’ve been seen with me, so you may be under surveillance--you might be taken and questioned about me, and that-that . . . that just can’t happen.  The apartment? It’s yours now. They don’t know about it. You should be safe there. And this place? It’s neutral. It’s outside the Federation. I put in a good word for you. I think you’ll like it.”

Unbidden, tears formed in your eyes. “Rick, I don’t understand what you’re saying!”

For the first time since you’d met him, Rick looked remorseful. “I’m sorry, baby.”

From his inside pocket, where he kept his portal gun, he extracted a new device. It was larger and unwieldy, and looked held together with zip ties and some duct tape. He pointed it at you, told you he was sorry again even as you begged him to give you real answers, even as you told him you didn’t care what kind of trouble he was in, you just wanted to be with him, that you thought you loved him, no, please, Rick, please--and you were blinded by a white light as he pulled the trigger.

The world went blank.

When you were finally able to see again, an old man in a lab coat was standing over you, cursing at some unknown piece of equipment in his hand that was smoking and throwing sparks randomly.

“Fucking prototype!” he cursed. “Goddamn piece of shit, falling apart when the fucking trigger was pulled--”

You groaned.

The sound you made drew his attention to you.

“Oh, hey, you okay?” he asked. He sounded like he was feigning concern. “That was some tumble you took!”

He offered you a hand, which you accepted. A tiny thrill nestled in your belly as you stood, but you also felt dizzy. His hand was cool and dry, and even upright, he was much taller than you. His hair was wild spikes of blue, and he wiped a bit of drool off his lower lip. There was an itch in your brain, like some part of you recognized him.

“Do I know you?” you asked, puzzled.

His eyes shifted away from you. “Uh, n-no. Nope! I just happened by when you fell. Here, this key fell out of your pocket. Looks like an apartment key? I had one like that once. The button on top gets you home.”

You accepted it. It did look like a key to a door, and you had to just nod about the button, because there didn’t seem to be any other way to get off this rock.

“And, uh. You said you had an interview. At the Bar?” he continued, waving a hand at the building.

You looked to where he indicated. “The Bar At The End of The Universe”, the yellow neon sign flashed on its roof.

“Yeah, I guess,” you agreed slowly.  You must have hit your head when you fell, because everything was a little blank, but that had to be right. Why else would you be here?

“Well, good luck!” he said, giving you a little push and a nod. A strained smile stretched his face.

“Yeah, okay, thanks.”

You started off towards the door. You had the unmistakable feeling that he was watching you go. When you turned around, you were right.

Still puzzled, you called, “Are you sure I don’t know you?”

The smile, as forced as it was, faded from his face. He looked upset and guilty, but you had no idea why that would be. He just looked so familiar, but he replied quietly,

“No, baby, you don’t know me.”

With that, he waved you on. You studied him a moment more, sure you’d seen him somewhere else, but finally felt awkward enough that you continued to the Bar. You opened the door and walked inside, immediately greeted by a four-armed bouncer who asked your age. Telling him you were here for an interview, he looked you over and directed you to the management.

“We are looking for a new bartender!” you were told. “Rick c-137 put in a good word for you!”

“Rick . . .?” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you were assured. “He doesn’t come here very often. We get lots of other . . . guests, though.”

The staff who were standing around snickered at that, but you figured that since this was a watering hole for all sorts of aliens, it didn’t mean much.

“With that recommendation, and if you want the job, it’s yours.”

There was a niggling in the back of your mind about this “Rick c-137”, like there was something just out of memory’s reach, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. You warmed to this. You needed a job, and you knew you could bartend, so why not someplace like this?

“I’m Yvonne,” you said, smiling and offering a hand to shake. “People call me You.”

That was how you got a job at The Bar At the End of the Universe.

fin.

[discoveringhistory]

Dissertation Weekly: Making Discoveries & Changing My Interpretation and Perception

As I write this week’s blog I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of an important letter from the great-great grandson of Douglas and Kate Bemo! 

One of the pitfalls of graduate school is that you never seem to get enough time to conduct research on your chosen dissertation topic while you are 1) up to your eyeballs in coursework, 2) opt to add an additional 15 hours of coursework for a graduate minor to your program of study, 3) and are prepping for your comprehensive exams.  At this juncture in my graduate career I am past all three of these important milestones.  I also had the good fortune to come into my program with roughly 90% of my research completed (something that is rare in my field).  To date I have written the prologue, epilogue, and first two chapters of my dissertation and am working on the remaining three so I can hopefully stay on track to defend in early May and graduate in July 2019. (Note: I had hoped to be further along at this point in time. Moving, settling in to my new residence, my wedding, taking on my step son and his mental health and legal challenges, and my own near exhaustion has slowed down my progress more than I ever imagined!) One of the challenges I face is writing while researching and attempting to fill the gaps and little nooks and crannies that remain so I am have as much material as possible to flesh out the life and experiences of Douglas Bemo as an AfroMvskoke/Seminole man living in a very complex and ever-changing world in the Indian Territory in the mid to late 19th century.

The front page of the American Missionary in January 1873 touts the evangelizing work of Rev. D.B. Nichols at Howard University. In July 1872 Douglas was enrolled in and left at Howard University where he was a student in the Model School and a member of the Military Department’s Corps of Cadets until he left in 1874. Note the area highlighted by the pin box.  The “Creek Indian” Nichols refers to in his description is indeed Douglas. His presence at Howard and his connection to the non-denominational church founded by Nichols made excellent PR material.

As of late I have been able to flesh out details of Douglas’ life that 1) his wife Kate NEVER mentions in her one sided portrayal of him in her diary and 2) I never thought I would discover. To some the details may seem minor, nothing of consequence.  However, when you are writing about an AfroMvksoke/Seminole man-- a person of color-- who has been marginalized in his wife’s diary (a primary source of great value to historians) and rendered voiceless by most histories of Indian Territory, the responsibility to flesh out the small details is imperative. Being able to find Douglas’ pay slips from the Mvskoke Nation, his appointment letter as a prosecuting attorney for the Mvskoke Nation, the American Missionary article that mentions him simply as a “Creek Indian”, or a fragment of a school essay he wrote while at the Tullahassee Mission provides me with insight into him that helps me as a historian or recover his voice. When Douglas died in 1898 his wife elected to not run an obituary in any of the local papers. For historians and geneaolgists obituaries are little goldmines of information and help us to pull threads of a person’s life together. For Douglas, however, his erasure from the “go-to” local history sources silences his voice. At this point in the writing of my dissertation I almost see the project as an extended obituary for Douglas.  Despite the best attempt of his wife to erase him from memory and control how he was viewed by anyone reading her diary, my work is an intervention and call to change how we use our sources as historians. What are we missing by simply looking at them from one perspective?  LOTS is the easy answer. In my case, as I am discovering every day, the little details are the most important and telling...and so critical to my understanding of this complex interracial marriage at a time when such unions normally followed a predictable pattern of an Anglo-American male paired with an Indigenous female. 

This news snippet about Minnie Tappan, a Cheyenne survivor of the infamous Sand Creek Massacre, intersects with my look into Douglas’ time at Howard University.  Douglas and Minnie were classmates at Howard and as the only American Indians enrolled at Howard at the time they surely closed paths.

Just this week I discovered that Douglas attended Howard University with a young woman named Minnie Tappan.  A Cheyenne, Minnie was “orphaned” after the infamous Sand Creek Massacre in Colorado Territory during the Civil War.  (Note: I use the term orphaned in quotes on purpose. Even though her parents were killed, Minnie would have been taken in my Aunts, Uncles, or other members of her mother’s clan. Anglo-Americans did not recognize this cultural practice with respect to American Indian peoples.) Taken back East by Samuel Tappan, Minnie was enrolled in Howard University.  In 1873 Minnie contracted consumption and died in her dorm room at Miner’s Hall on the Howard Campus.  News of her death surely filtered among the student body. For Douglas this must have been a terrifying prospect-- would he contract consumption and be next? The presence of another American Indian face on the Howard campus surely reassured and lifted Douglas’ spirits. In letters to Kate, back in Indian Territory teaching at a Mvskoke Nation agency school, Douglas mentions the passing of an Indian girl from Colorado. To some this may seem a trivial detail. However, for Douglas seeing Minnie’s face on campus meant there was someone else like him, he was not an Indigenous island unto himself. So the small bits and pieces of his life are now coming into sharper focus and making him seem so very real.

A photo of Kate Edwards Bemo Mitchell as an older woman. This photo surfaced online and after comparing it to a verified photo of Kate in her younger days there is no doubt it is Kate.  

While looking for the traces of Douglas’ life, more details about Kate keep cropping up.  The photo above is a recent discovery that stopped me in my tracks.  Seeing the face of Kate as an older woman I was struck that Douglas did not get the privilege of living into his later years to watch his son grow into adulthood, marry, and have his own family.  Douglas never got to be a grandfather and share the stories of his life with his descendants. Their views about Douglas come solely from Kate’s very partisan telling of her life and how she was impacted by her unfortunate marriage to her “worthless” Indian. Not only was history robbed of Douglas’ voice but his descendants as well. Now, I am even more determined to search as many archival sources in Oklahoma as possible in the hope I will find an image of Douglas to counterbalance Kate’s well crafted image.  While this goal may not be realized during the writing of my dissertation I do hope that one day an image will surface. Looking into the life of Douglas’ brother Alec (Alexander) --who spent his life living in the Seminole Nation with his wife and large family-- may be the only chance to see what Douglas may have looked like, so the search for an image of Alec is on! 

My scheduling calendar and book are a crazy patchwork colors and scribbles.  This is the only way I can keep all the tasks related to my work, research, and family life in some semblance of order.

Of course the most difficult part of this entire process of writing a dissertation is keeping research, writing, thinking, reading, and family life scheduled and organized.  My calendars/schedules (seen above in glorious colors) are nothing short of a form of managed chaos/controlled insanity at the moment. At this juncture I am really soul searching and looking at my progress, deadlines, and thinking about the fact I MIGHT have to push my defense off until October 2019 and graduate in December 2019. This would mean I missed my target deadline of earning my PhD and Graduate Minor in museum studies in four years start to finish by one semester. Part of me wants to push forward and graduate in July (so I can walk in may graduation and participate in departmental convocation) while the other part of me wants to produce an important dissertation and knows deep down that I need the time. Stay tuned, resolving this dilemma will be an interesting ride.

So, in my quest to flesh out Douglas’ lived experience in the Indian Territory I will be heading to Oklahoma City and the amazing collections of the Oklahoma Historical Society at the end of February. Add to that a trip to Howard University in D.C. (February), Western Kansas and Fort Wallace (March) and the Presbyterian Historical Society in Philly (April) and a possible research swing to the Seminole Nation in Wewoka, OK and you get an idea of what it is like to write and research simultaneously. Thank goodness for frequent flyer points, my husband’s willingness to pay for trips, and my love of travel...for I truly am a historian on the road.

Thanks for reading, hope you have enjoyed this edition of Dissertation Weekly.  Stay tuned! Next week I will share about one of my recent research experiences and the need for document preservation in local communities!

Cheers,

Michelle and Josie the Kitten

Josie supervises the writing of a fellowship application. She is an excellent proofreader as long as you don’t want her to flip the pages.

[deniseyallen]

Portman Honors the Memory of Otto Warmbier, Condemns North Korean Regime

WASHINGTON, D.C. — U.S. Senator Rob Portman (R-OH) delivered remarks on the Senate floor today to honor the life of Ohio native Otto Warmbier and to condemn the North Korean regime for its unnecessary and appalling detainment and barbaric treatment of Warmbier.

Transcript can be found below and a video can be found here.

“I rise today to talk about a promising young man from Wyoming, Ohio, just outside of Cincinnati, my hometown. A young man whose life was tragically cut short at just 22 years of age. I rise to talk about Otto Warmbier. Otto had all the smarts and talent  you could ever ask for. He was a homecoming king; he was the salutatorian of the Wyoming High School class he graduated from a few years ago; he spent a summer at the London School of Economics—smart kid—he won a prestigious scholarship at the University of Virginia. As everyone expected he would, he excelled at UVA. He got great grades; he had a thirst for learning, he loved meeting new people and hearing about their lives and their perspectives. His future was as bright as it could possibly be. 

“It was this smart, kind-hearted young man, a college kid, who was taken prisoner by the North Korean regime for nearly 18 months. Otto’s detainment and sentence were unnecessary and appalling. Neither one should have ever happened in the first place. At some point soon after being sentenced to 15 years of hard labor, from what we know, Otto suffered a severe brain injury. From what? We don’t know, and we may never know. 

“Who did the North Korean government tell about this? No one. For the next 15 months or so they kept this a secret. They denied him access to the best medical care he deserved and they refused repeated requests for consular access that would normally be provided to those who had been detained, requests from our government, from the Obama administration, from the Trump administration, requests from the Red Cross, requests from the Swedish government who normally provides the consular service for Americans in North Korea, requests from many of us here in the Capitol. 

“The regime unjustly imprisoned him and then lied about his severe medical condition. By the way, they continue to tell stories that make no sense. Doctors at the University of Cincinnati, some of the best doctors in the world, and just the type of medical professionals Otto should have been able to see from the start, say that North Korea’s claims as to what happened simply don’t stand up to the evidence. 

“They called him a Prisoner of War, but they also violated the Geneva Convention. But for North Korea to imprison Otto Warmbier with no consular access for more than a year, with his medical condition and severe brain injury, it goes well beyond that: it demonstrates a complete failure to recognize fundamental human rights. Because of these actions by the North Koreans, Otto is dead. His promise has been cut short. If there were any doubt about the nature of the North Korean regime, that pariah country, then Otto’s case should erase all doubt. 

“We know this regime has no regard for the rule of law or the freedoms we enjoy here. But they also have no regard for basic human rights and dignity. They have subjected hundreds of thousands of their own people to mistreatment, torture and death for decades. They are now extending that treatment to innocent Americans. North Korea should be universally condemned for its abhorrent behavior and held accountable for their actions. 

“Otto’s family, God bless them, they tried everything they could to bring Otto home. For 18 months, and for almost 16 months not knowing of his dire condition, they were steadfast and resilient trying everything they could. 

“I was there with Fred and Cindy Warmbier when Otto finally returned from North Korea. He came home. It was incredibly emotional to watch Otto be reunited with his loving family. I believe he knew he was back home. I believe he knew he was among those who loved him. I want to thank State Department Special Representative Joe Yun, Deputy Secretary Sullivan, and Secretary Tillerson for their work to help secure Otto’s release last week and to bring him home. 

“There are still three Americans being detained by the North Koreans. They should be released immediately. And we should do everything that we can do as a country to secure their release. 

“Otto’s case is a reminder that we must on the one hand increase pressure on North Korea to force them to change and there will be more to discuss soon on that. But at the same time we’ve got to maintain an open line of communication to deal with the deadly, serious issues we face. Those are some of the lessons I’ve taken from the last 18 months.

“Fred, Cindy, and the entire Warmbier family have been incredibly strong through this ordeal. No one should have to go through what that family has experienced. My wife Jane and I will continue to be at their side, including, of course, at the funeral service tomorrow in Wyoming, Ohio. 

“So I urge my colleagues, and everybody listening at home, continue to hold this family up in prayer. But also let’s ensure that this tragedy is a wake-up call about the true nature of this brutal regime.”

###

from Rob Portman http://www.portman.senate.gov/public/index.cfm/press-releases?ContentRecord_id=0236F8D6-94A7-4C8E-8CE3-2C2BE3494C09