#because our stupid fucking greater society wants them dead
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I just had to finally put into words that I might not be able to go again to the most meaningful thing I've ever done in the past few years
with the best people, and strongest community, and most me I've ever felt.
But, with the lack of covid tracking, inaccessibility of testing, and basically no one masking (added to the fact that I can't drive, so I would have to take a bus or plane to get there), I just can't do it again.
Last year, enough people were masking and testing and I could keep enough of an eye on the numbers, that I felt decently comfortable attending, but now all of that's gone and everyone's acting like there's no more pandemic
And I don't know if the issue is more my physical health or my anxiety, but it is impossible.
And there are no more virtual options. I had to back out of a performance last weekend because there were no covid precautions in their indoor venues and my outdoor performance got rained out
It just feels so...scary and so empty.
I don't get to do my work. I don't get to be with my community. I don't get fucking anything except fear and illness.
And, out of most disabled people, I am definitely one of the safer ones. What about the people who couldn't have even taken the risk when there was some attempts at mitigation and tracking? What about the people who literally haven't been able to leave their houses for however fucking long it's been?
Like, when people don't mask, there's the health risk of getting covid, but there's also the fact that vulnerable disabled people are losing family, community, and support because of this.
Like, one of my friends recently started publicly transitioning and going to in-person events at a local lgbt community center and it has been lifechanging for her. But she isn't masking and no one else is either, and I just have this burn of jealousy because I haven't been able to go to a drag or burlesque show or be in queer community that isn't my workplace in so long. And then I think about all the trans people who don't even get to share a shitty workplace with other trans people.
This is a terrifying, scary time to be trans and some disabled trans people don't get to be in community because our leaders seem to think the risk is over and it's fine for us to die.
It's awful and I'm so fucking angry. And I know this community and I know these people and I know they would do anything in their power to get me to the thing safely if it's possible. But what about all the at-risk people they don't know? Could they commit to doing the same? Would they even have the funding or resources to do that for more than one person? How long until the well-meaning, low-resourced people who want to do the right thing crack because the fucking government and capitalist institutions don't give a shit?
I don't know. Enjoy a rant. I'm So Fucking Tired.
#in which I rant#because it is heartbreaking to have to say no to this thing#but it's even more heartbreaking to think about all the people who will never get to experience it#because our stupid fucking greater society wants them dead#asdljkfashlfjkdsah
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Chapter Seven - The Shutdown
Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]
This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. There's descriptions of emotional repression in this chapter, so be aware of that. Hope you enjoy it.
You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.
Chapter Seven – The Shutdown
This was pathetic, and Freed knew it.
He was a grown man. He was a lawyer. He was a well-respected member of society who had earned his place on multiple occasions. And yet, apparently, this was what he had resorted to. Switching off his phone while glaring at it, locking himself in his apartment, and refusing to speak to anyone who might want to talk. He had shut himself off completely, like a fucking teenager who didn't know how to handle his emotions.
Which, other than him not being a teenager, was accurate. Because all of this ridiculous behaviour that Freed hated himself for doing – that he couldn't stop himself from doing – was all because he didn't know what to do about what he was feeling.
And he was feeling. He was feeling a lot.
It was something that only added to his annoyance because Freed wasn't an overly emotional person. He was pragmatic, and allowed his feelings to be put to the side to focus on greater tasks. He'd lived his entire life that way, and had done so to great success and happiness, and yet now he felt as though he was fucking drowning in these feelings. In the feelings that he couldn't quantify or push to the side or ignore. And the pure amount of them, the ferocity with which they had hit him, and range of different feelings was just so awful. He couldn't deal with it.
So, he did what he always did when he was overwhelmed. It didn't happen often, and usually only when he was taking on a case that was more troublesome than he had expected, but he had techniques in place that usually helped. He wrote a list of everything that was overwhelming him.
Confusion – He had always lived in Era, and his life resolved around the city. It was confusing to feel so drawn to Magnolia, a place so contrasting to what he knew.
Annoyance – He knew that he wanted Magnolia to be a larger part of his life, but wouldn't say it out loud. His pride was getting in the way, but he couldn't push past it to be honest about his wants.
Anger – He should have spoken to Laxus. He shouldn't have let him go after… what had happened. Because they hadn't spoken since Laxus had left, two weeks ago. And he missed him, more than he could admit to himself. He missed him so much.
Anger – Because he shouldn't have goaded Laxus into a flirtatious competition.
Anger – Because he shouldn't have left the house and gone to the carnival to see Laxus.
Anger – Because he shouldn't have gotten allowed his stupid crush to become more than that.
Anger – Because he shouldn't have let Laxus be anything other than a workman to him.
Anger – Because why couldn't he speak his goddamn mind when it came what he was feeling?
He sighed, slamming his pen onto his desk, and rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand. He looked down at the list with an annoyed expression because it had done exactly what it was meant to do. It had highlighted the greater problem that was worrying Freed, and it was all very clear as to what was actually troubling him. As he always did after finishing a list, he wrote a final point to clarify what was actually happening, and he sighed at his own words.
Attraction – He was drawn to Laxus in a way that he couldn't control. He didn't know what to do with this attraction, but he couldn't stop it. It felt like he was trapped by it.
And for Freed, a man whose emotions had never been an issue, it was concerning.
Worse still, a lot of their time spent together seemed to be cast in a new light now. All of Freed's insistence that Laxus teach him new skills, perhaps that was just a way to get closer to him more often. Their shared meal and the private revelations of their childhoods, maybe that was how Freed was making his relationship with Laxus more personal. The time they spent at the carnival, before the incident after the dunk tank, might have been Freed getting a date from Laxus without even knowing it.
It all made Freed feel rather sick.
One worrisome thought was that he might have manipulated Laxus into friendship unknowingly. But Laxus wasn't that good of an actor, and he seemed to genuinely like Freed. Though that could be because Freed was his boss, and he wanted to get a good reference at the end of their working relationship.
A sharp nocking sound echoed through Freed's empty apartment, cutting off that thought.
He didn't move to answer it, of course. With seemingly a million and one random and predominantly negative thoughts hitting him every second, he wasn't in the mood to greet visitors. The idea of pretending to be happy sounded exhausting, and Freed would much rather gather his thoughts on his own. Though, in reality he would probably try and fail to gather his thoughts, only to be angry at himself for failing, and he'd end up sleeping while enraged.
"If you are not dead in there, I will kill you!" Evergreen yelled, slamming the door again.
"That means she's worried," Another voice followed, lighter sounding than Evergreen's. Bickslow. "But also kinda murderous, so open the door."
Freed sighed, moving from his desk and walking towards the door. Out of everyone he knew, Freed would feel the least amount of guilt for not being polite and engaged with the two of them. And it was entirely possible that if Freed didn't open the door quickly, Evergreen would take it off its hinges. He didn't even know how they'd gotten into the building without having him buzz the door open.
When he opened it, he felt a small flush of guilt overtake him. Bickslow, who was normally grinning wider than Freed thought possible, had a concerned expression. Evergreen was hovering between anger and worry. Freed almost didn't understand the expression, but Evergreen made it easy for him.
By punching him in the chest, then hugging him.
"Motherfucker," She grunted into Freed's chest, and he looked down at her with a frown. He considered speaking, but thought against it. "I was worried about you."
"Why?"
"Because you've been missing for like four days, man," Bickslow said as he walked into Freed's apartment and closed the door; apparently they were staying. "You wouldn't answer your phone or any emails. Normally it feels like you reply to things before we manage to send them," He shrugged. "We wanted to make sure you're okay."
"Well," Freed said slowly. "I am."
"Then I can punch you again," Evergreen grunted, removing herself from Freed's body and slamming her fist into his arm. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing," Freed turned and walked back to his desk. "You know I'm okay, so is there anything else you need?"
Freed knew his friends well, and even though he had turned his back away from them, he knew they'd be exchanging looks in place of a conversation, and it annoyed Freed when his suspicions were confirmed in the window's reflection. He understood that they were worried, and he understood that they were probably angry at him for how he was acting now that they knew he was okay, but they could at least be subtle.
And why were they treating him like a child? He had known and worked with them both for years, and surely he'd proven himself to be a capable adult hundreds of times by now. For heavens sake, when they'd all been in the same office, Freed had always been the project manager. Self-appointed too. But apparently wanting some time alone meant the respect that he had earned had completely gone, and instead had been replaced by a patronising level of care from his friends. His friends who had barged their way into his house uninvited, and were now clearly talking about him behind his back, expecting him to be okay with it.
"I'd like to be left alone," Freed stated, turning to face his friends again. "So if you're going to act like I'm not here, then you might as well leave."
"Come on Freed," Bickslow sighed, and Freed stiffened slightly.
His tone was almost exhausted, as if this was a regular and tedious occurrence. Which it wasn't. This was abnormal, something that Freed had never done before, and he would hope that his friends might respect his wishes about the situation. He was about to voice this annoyance when Evergreen spoke.
"Laxus texted me," She stated, and his eyes flickered over to her.
"Saying what, exactly?" He said slowly, the demand clear. He didn't know what Laxus had thought of the situation, whether he had noticed Freed slightly leaning in when they were face to face, and frankly he was a little scared of what Evergreen was about to say.
"That you didn't leave on the best terms, and that you didn't go back to Magnolia over the weekend," She said, sitting on Freed's sofa and staring him down. "He said you didn't fight, but you've been ignoring his calls. So, what happened?"
"I don't see why I should tell you," Freed walked to his kitchen. He got himself a glass of water, not offering anything to the two of them. He hoped they would understand the passive-aggressive message behind it.
"Because it's making you act like an-"
"What she means is," Bickslow interrupted. "That if you tell us what happened, then we might be able to help out with it. Make you feel a little better."
"I don't need you to make me feel better."
"You need something, baby," Bickslow sighed, looking at Freed with an annoyingly honest smile. It cracked a little at Freed's anger, as Bickslow mostly was exaggerative with his emotions, not honest. "Because, whatever you're doing right now, it's not like you. And it doesn't look very healthy."
Freed looked to where Bickslow was looking, and huffed. It was his trash can, around which were discarded remains of takeout food.
"So I'm no longer allowed to order food for myself?" He snapped.
"Of course you are," Evergreen placated him. "But you always cook for yourself, you always have. It'd be weird for you if you ordered takeout once a week, and this is a lot more than once a week," She sighed as she caught Freed's rolled eyes. "Look, we know it's only a little thing. But you're isolating yourself and not dealing with whatever the problem is, and that's not like you. And if something's affecting you that much, then we just thought that maybe we could help you with it. Even if it's just talking it out together."
"And we can go, if you want," Bickslow continued. "But I think it'd be best if we stayed."
Freed was silent, then huffed quietly. "Tea or coffee?"
After he had prepared them their drinks, and some further light convincing from the two of them, he began to explain what had happened. He only described what he needed to: that he had slowly been getting closer to Laxus over their time together, and that he had been developing a crush. That he felt a draw to Laxus that he couldn't understand, and it was sometimes making things uncomfortable for him.
Then he explained what had happened at the carnival. How he'd been angry, and he'd instinctively gone to Laxus to change that. How they'd spent the afternoon together, doing something very close to flirting. How he'd challenged Laxus to a ridiculous game, and what had happened because of it.
How they'd nearly kissed.
How Laxus had basically fled.
"So," Evergreen spoke up again after Freed had finished. "You did something you regret, and you're embarrassed?"
"Yes, because I'm a child" Freed agreed sarcastically.
"Everyone gets embarrassed Freed, not just kids," Bickslow sighed. "But I don't think that's why you're acting like this. I think the real issue is that you were embarrassed, but it didn't bother you as much as it normally would," Freed's brow furrowed slightly, and Bickslow continued. "You almost forgot to be embarrassed because it didn't matter. You were more worried about the things you did than the situation itself. You only felt embarrassed about it when you had time to think, and that's not normal for you."
"When did you become a psychologist?" Evergreen mumbled.
"Sorry, I just spent a lot of time around them now, with work. It's interesting stuff," Bickslow chuckled to himself, patting Freed's leg. "What I'm trying to say is, I think this is one of the first time's you've kind of wanted to be vulnerable for someone. That you've actually felt that it might be worth it, and it's messing you up a bit."
"I," Freed said slowly. "I suppose that might be possible. It's true that relationships aren't an area of expertise. It's possible that might be a… contributing factor."
"You should talk to him," Evergreen suggested. "It's probably the best way to get past this."
"We nearly kissed one another, and we haven't spoken to each other since then," Freed deflected at the idea, hand wrapping tightly around the mug of tea in his hand. "And he walked away from me the moment it happened. He's hardly enthusiastic about the situation."
"He was overwhelmed," Evergreen exclaimed. "I had to stop him from taking the train up here when he found out we hadn't heard from you for days," Freed scoffed a little at that. "Freed, did it really not occur to you that he might be just as crappy with his emotions as you, he just sucks in a different, more subtle way?"
Freed didn't answer that.
With his lack of an answer, the room fell into an uncomfortable quiet. Freed was now glaring down at his tea, gripping it tightly as a rush of annoyance ran over him. Because, not only had Evergreen and Bickslow acted as if they knew his mind better than he did, but they were also trying to tell him that Laxus might have nearly kissed him as well. It was angering, because even if it was true, they were missing the point.
Laxus wasn't someone Freed could get into a relationship with; he just wasn't. Not only was the man his employee, and therefore dating him would be a large conflict of interest, but he also lived three hours away in a place that was the direct antithesis of Era. As cliché as it was, they were from different worlds.
He had a feeling that, if he said any of that out loud, they'd say he was making excuses.
Maybe he was.
"There's something else we want to talk to you about, too," Evergreen spoke again, and her voice had a cautious edge to it that caught Freed's attention. Pre-emptively, he found himself getting defensive. "We've been talking, and we know it's not your favourite thing to talk about but…"
"The last time we saw you acting like this," Bickslow continued. "It was when your dad died."
"What are you implying?" Freed asked sharply.
"We just thought that maybe the reason you've become so," Evergreen thought for a moment, clearly trying to think of a word that wouldn't antagonise Freed. It probably wouldn't work. "Closed off might be because you don't know how to deal with the fact that she's… gone."
"For god's sake," Freed grunted. "Why are you both so insistent that her death is going to destroy me in some way? I am fine."
And he was. He was perfectly fine. Yes, his mother had died a few months ago, but that didn't mean that Freed had to become an inconsolable mess. That wasn't going to happen with Freed, especially considering how he and his mother had been drifting apart, more so after his father had died. And even if they hadn't separated from one another, it didn't mean that Freed was going to have some kind of break down months after the event. That wasn't something that more emotional people went through, so why the hell did they think Freed would?
It was infuriating to think about, now that he was. The fact that the people closest to him in the world were now trying to instil some kind of grief as an explanation for his behaviour. His behaviour that, in his mind, wasn't even that bad. There had been a bad situation, he took a step back from it and tried to calm himself down. If they thought it was an unhealthy way to deal with it, that was their issue.
"We're worried that you're refusing to talk about something," Bickslow insisted. "We don't want you to be dealing with something bad on your own."
"Well that would be quite difficult given you don't seem to be leaving me alone," Freed snapped.
"Come on man," Bickslow sighed. "You don't need to get-"
"So, just allow me to clarify what's happening," Freed spoke quickly, standing up and pacing. He needed to move. "You came here after speaking to Laxus about me behind my back. Now you're here, with your own ideas about why I'm behaving in a way that you believe is antisocial and unhealthy. You then make me explain the situation in detail, then essentially explain my own feelings to me despite the fact neither of you have a damn clue about what's happening in my mind," Freed was breathing hard now, finger running over his palm and jaw tight. "And now you're ignoring all of that, and trying to bring attention to my mother's death for some reason, despite the fact that you've heard me say that I am fine multiple times."
"Freed," Evergreen said patiently – as if he were a child. Why were they treating him like this! "Maybe you should take a few minutes to-"
"You'd already concluded that my supposed 'shut down' was because of my mother's death, correct? You'd probably spoke about it together before coming here," Freed continued, anger rising still. "So why even mention Laxus? Is it just so you can continue the trend of being overly invasive in my life? The moment you realised I was befriending someone around my age who happened to be my type, you started asking pointless questions and making irritating jokes. Perhaps you just wanted more gossip and saw an opportunity."
"Okay, you're not in the best of moods, I understand," Bickslow sighed, standing up. "Maybe we should go."
"You should," Freed snapped.
"Fine," Evergreen muttered, seemingly annoyed herself now. "But turn your fucking phone on, and if Laxus calls you again then answer, because he's worried," She walked to the door, but turned before leaving. "And when you wanna call us and apologise for that last remark, I'll be waiting."
She left the apartment, huffing. Bickslow sighed, patted Freed on the shoulder with a promise of texting him later, before leaving as well.
Freed deflated slightly, falling into his desk chair while his leg jumped up and down with anxious energy. He ran a hand over his face and spun towards his desk, only to be confronted with the sight of the list he had wrote down earlier. And now, after what his friends had said, it was painfully clear that he had missed one thing that he was feeling more than anything else.
'Fear – I don't want to be alone.'
~~~
He'd fallen asleep not long after, curling onto his leather sofa, and drifting off with ease. The sudden rush of adrenaline that had accompanied his anger had deflated not soon after Bickslow and Evergreen had left. It was interesting to know that, after a volatile emotional outburst, you had an overwhelming urge to sleep.
In this situation, you also felt an overwhelming urge to apologise.
Because Bickslow and Evergreen were his friends, and always had been. They weren't the type of people to conspire against him, especially not for something as small as a damn piece of gossip about his relationship with Laxus.
In retrospect, this was entirely obvious. They were good people, and clearly had his best interests at heart. They'd come to his apartment because they were worried about him and they wanted to make sure he was okay, find out what was bothering him, and offer their advice. But, in the moment, he had felt almost attacked by the two of them, as if they were ganging up on him. He had gotten defensive and fought back against what he considered an attack on him.
Now, it felt stupid. And he felt guilty.
Phoning Evergreen would have been the first thing he did after waking up, had it not been his ringing phone being the reason he woke. He took a few second to realise what the sound was, and reached out for his phone from his coffee table; he'd turned the device back on after Evergreen and Bickslow had left. He'd seen a lot of missed texts and calls from his friends when he had.
Incoming Call: Laxus Dreyar
He reached for the mug on the table, drinking down the remainder of his now very cold tea. It woke him up slightly, and he answered the call with a small amount of nervousness filling him. They hadn't spoke since the carnival, and Freed didn't know how to deal with the situation.
"Oh, hey," Laxus voice filled Freed's ears. He sounded worried, and Freed frowned. It wasn't nice to know that he was probably to blame for that. "I didn't expect you to answer."
"Well, Evergreen said you were worried," Freed murmured, looking out his window. It was late evening now.
"Yeah, I was," Laxus agreed.
Freed almost sighed, wondering if he would have been able to admit that so openly. With Laxus, maybe he could have.
"She texted me earlier," He continued, and Freed heard a slight shifting from the phone. He absently wondered what he was doing. A ridiculous thought made worse because, if it weren't for his pride, he would have been with Laxus at that moment. "Apparently when she and Bickslow went to your place to talk to you, you kinda exploded at them."
He said that with a slight laugh in his voice, and it grated on Freed's nerves. "I don't appreciate the fact you're talking about me behind my back."
"You kicked your best friends out of your apartment," Laxus said tiredly. "We're just-"
"How did your even get her phone number?" Freed spoke over him, standing up again. "She came to Magnolia once and you spoke for about five minutes at the most."
"She added me on Facebook," Laxus explained.
"So you're not actually texting, then, are you?" Freed demanded, unaware as to why exactly he was so bothered by this little detail. But he was, and the whispered 'fucks sake' from the other side of the phone didn't help his mood. "You're actually using the messenger app, aren't you? Not the texting app. So you haven't been texting one another, you've been messaging each other. Which is a different thing."
"Does it matter?"
"Yes it does, everything matters," Freed snapped. "Details are important to me, Laxus. I need to know the entire story before I can get involved. And if you-"
"Fucks sake," Laxus spoke loudly. "Will you stop fucking talking."
And he did.
"Look, I get that you ain't in a good mood, and that you probably don't wanna deal with me right now. But tough shit. You kept saying you're okay, and that you don't wanna be treated with kid gloves right?" Laxus demanded, and stupidly Freed nodded. "Well that's what I'm gonna do. So we're gonna talk, we're gonna discuss what happened, and I'm gonna make sure you get over it somehow. Because I wasn't happy when you started avoiding me, and I'm sure as hell not letting you ghost your friends and yell at them if it's because of something I did."
"I don't wish to speak about it."
"Well too fucking bad," Laxus retorted. "We're talking about it. So whenever you're ready, we're gonna start."
Despite his annoyed tone, Freed felt that Laxus was allowing him a kindness by letting him start the conversation. At least this way, he was allowed to frame the events in what way he wanted. He was also allowed some time to think, which he desperately needed. He closed his eyes for a moment, and gathered his thoughts before speaking again.
He needed to be honest. Bickslow had been right in that he felt inexplicably comfortable being vulnerable around Laxus, and he needed to take advantage of that.
"I can be obtuse, at times," Freed confessed. "And sometimes I feel compelled to do things that some people might consider… abnormal. For the most part I'm rather strict about it, but with you, I don't know, you sort of have an effect on this filter I've made. Most of the time you probably won't notice, but I doubt I would have asked to be taught plumbing and electrics from anybody else."
"There's nothing wrong with following your instincts," Laxus said calmly, and Freed felt a little struck by the sudden comfort in his voice. "Especially when it comes to what you wanna do."
"Perhaps," Freed agreed, slightly unwillingly. "But, with what happened between us, it shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have…"
Freed paused. He had to say it. Had to say that he shouldn't have leant in to kiss Laxus. He shouldn't have flirted with him for an afternoon. He shouldn't have gotten so close to him despite knowing both his growing feelings and that a relationship between the two of them would be inappropriate and perhaps impossible.
"…I shouldn't have made you play the game when you clearly didn't want to. I'm sorry."
He closed his eyes, angry at himself now. Why could be not just say what he felt!
"Okay," Laxus said softly, almost as if to himself. "You don't need to feel guilty; about anything that happened. I mean, I wanted to do it too, even if I didn't make it obvious on the day."
The way Laxus was speaking, putting emphasis on certain words, made Freed pay attention. Laxus had perhaps understood that what Freed had meant to apologise for wasn't what he actually said. If that was true, then Laxus had decided that he was going to spare Freed the embarrassment of the situation and instead use the dunk tank as a metaphor. Freed was incredibly thankful, and also almost touched, by the gesture.
"I feel like I pressured you into it," Freed confessed. "That you might have thought I'd actually hold my position against you if you didn't do what I said."
"Freed, I ain't the kind of guy to be intimidated like that. If I thought you were genuinely doing that, I probably would have punched you or something," Laxus said, voice serious enough to calm Freed slightly. "And the fact is, I got up there myself, nobody forced me to do it. I knew the risks and didn't care about it. That was my choice."
A flashed memory of Laxus and Freed's faces being so close, so tantalisingly close flashed into Freed's mind. He reddened slightly at the thought.
"Are you sure?" Freed asked, needing confirmation.
"The only thing about that day that I regretted was leaving the way I did," Laxus said, with honesty in his voice. He then let out a small laugh. "Well, maybe I regret not seeing that the guy running the dunk tank had a towel that I could have used."
"I probably should have told you about that," Freed chuckled quietly.
"You saw it?" Laxus sounded aghast, probably exaggerating his annoyance to calm Freed "Bastard."
"I suppose so," Freed nodded, self-deprecatingly.
"So, are you gonna stop beating yourself up about this now that you know my side?" Laxus asked, voice sounding hopeful now. "Because you've been freaking me out not being here, I've had almost two weeks without smartass comments coming from you," He laughed, before adding honestly. "I missed ya."
"I missed you too," Freed confessed. "I'm sorry. I'll try not to worry you again."
"You don't need to apologise," Laxus assured him. "Well, not to me. Ever might disagree with that."
Freed laughed softly at that, knowing full well that he would have to apologise profusely to his friend very soon. It would most likely be accompanied by a large amount of sucking up to her, to get her favour again. Which of course he would do, because he loved the woman, as antagonising and gossipy as she could be. Though he would have to talk to her about her conversations about him behind his back, as Freed still felt like that was quite invasive.
"Can I- d'you mind if I say something that might be outta line?" Laxus spoke again.
"Of course," Freed said, frowning to himself.
"I think you should move to Magnolia," Laxus rushed his words out slightly, and spoke again before Freed could process what he said. "Not permanently, but maybe until the house is done. I mean you have a place to live there, so it won't cost anything, and I think it could be good to you to get away from Era for a few months."
"You… want me to move to Magnolia?" Freed echoed.
"I know you don't like talking about this, but I think it'll be the only way to come to terms with what happened with your mother," Laxus continued, and Freed went to speak. Laxus got there first. "I get you don't want sympathy, and I'm not giving it to you. But I get what it's like to lose your mother, and have everyone around you expecting you to act in a certain way. It's like they want you to feel sad all the time, and it's like your failing at grief if you're not. People don't get that, but I do."
Freed understood that. Peoples expectations of his grief had bothered him for months.
"W my mom died, I didn't wanna be the sad kid with a dead mom," Laxus sighed. "I did everything I could not to be that kid. But I didn't know what the hell to do, so I just kept going like I was normal. I went to school, I cussed out teachers, I beat kids up. I thought I was fine because everything I was doing was what I normally did. And when I got kicked out, and I lost that structure, I had to get used to who I was now, without her. I couldn't pretend I was who I was before losing her, and had to deal with it."
"So," Freed said after a moment's thinking. "You believe that it would be best for me to leave my normal life so I can… come to terms with her death," He surmised. "Doesn't that seem like I'm running away from the problem?"
"You ain't running away from anything. You're not the type," Laxus had a small smile in his voice. "What you'd be doing is letting yourself grow into the person you are without her, rather than clinging to who you were before."
Freed was silent for a moment, before letting out a single laugh. "You therapist was smart, wasn't she?"
"She was," Laxus agreed.
"Annoying though," Freed continued.
"Definitely," Laxus laughed, before speaking softly. "You're gonna consider it then?"
"I will," Freed nodded.
"Promise me."
"I promise."
"Good," Laxus smiled. "Now, let's talk about you not mentioning the towel to me."
With the joke, Freed felt his relationship to Laxus normalise again. He could almost cry with the relief that flooded through him.
#Fraxus Day 2020#Fraxus Day#Fraxus#Freed Justine#Laxus Dreyar#Fairy Tail#Fanfic#Writing#Event#Multichapter#Word Count 5.3k#Fuckyeahfraxus
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ok i am *checks watch* two years late to the party but i just watched dead apple and i’m having thoughts about it everything below the cut because it’s a goddamn essaypost
ok so basically i had to rewatch fyodor’s speech scene a couple times because of how hard i was thinking about it. he implies that shibusawa’s fog separates users from their abilities and makes the abilities try to kill the user with the caveat that this is only allowed to happen if the ability user, in some form or another, has rejected their ability as a part of themselves -- the ability users that have accepted their abilities/their role in the world might be separated from their abilities, but the ability doesn’t attack them at all. it’s an ability entirely based on the individual’s personal feelings towards their ability (which is pretty ironic, considering that shibusawa is desperately searching for his own reason to live by living through other people). if there’s any conflict at all, then the fog essentially amplifies those negative feelings and turns the user against their own ability -- and, in extension, against themselves.
which... honestly makes a lot of sense! ability users are relatively rare in the world of bsd, and so it makes sense that most of them would be attacked by their own abilities because they feel ostracized from the world because they’re not truly “human” like everyone else, or something along those lines. atsushi is the most obvious example of this -- even though he manages to defeat his own ability, he’s only able to use it again once he fully accepts that the tiger isn’t a curse, it’s meant to protect him. atsushi feels guilty all the time over the orphanage director and for killing shibusawa, even though those people were literally his abusers; he has to realize that he wasn’t the one at fault for defending himself against them, in order to fully manifest his ability and kill shibusawa without feeling guilt, the way he did at the beginning of dead apple when he planned on just capturing shibusawa even though kyouka literally told him “we have to kill him that’s our mission he’s going to destroy all of yokohama if we don’t.”
we can put akutagawa and kyouka under similar analysis. akutagawa originally didn’t accept rashoumon because he felt that dazai was only ever praising rashoumon, instead of acknowledging akutagawa’s existence; once he accepts that he is the one controlling rashoumon and he doesn’t need dazai’s direct praise to know that he’s validated for existing (he visits and bows to chuuya in the epilogue, rather than seeking out dazai), rashoumon comes under his control again. kyouka didn’t accept demon snow because she hated the fact that she cared so much for demon snow as a protector/mother figure even though she blames it for killing her parents; she has to learn that demon snow isn’t her enemy, and, like atsushi, has only ever attempted to protect her. she can use demon snow to do good in the world, twisting it away from its original purpose of assassination, because it’s her power. basically, they’re all conquering their powers and accepting that even though they’re ability users, they still have the ability to be, essentially, human and pick the side that saves people -- the way dazai does at the end, seeing how “beautiful” the world is because atsushi and kyouka are alive, the way sakunosuke wanted him to. their ability is just as much of a part of themselves as any other internal conflict they have. they aren’t separate from their abilities -- they are one and the same.
which is a really interesting implication when we loop it all back around and start talking about fyodor himself. like fyodor says, he doesn’t get separated from his ability because he has accepted his ability in the first place -- “crime and punishment are close friends,” after all. fyodor knows and accepts himself as both the “crime” (being an ability user) and the “punishment” (using his ability to rid the world of ability users), which, honestly, is incredibly remniscient of raskolnikov’s entire speech about the “extraordinary man” in the original crime and punishment -- raskolnikov’s entire philosophy in the first half of the book was based around the idea that certain “extraordinary men” had the “right” to transgress against the laws of humanity/society in order to fulfill their own “higher purposes.” and i mean, that’s basically exactly what fyodor implies about himself: he thinks of himself as a god, and so even though he’s committing the ultimate sin, he’s doing it for the greater good. stupid god complex motherfucker.
when fyodor said that he was using shibusawa as entertainment, he wasn’t even joking. i genuinely don’t think that there was any greater purpose to it other than to basically prove his own points to himself. shibusawa, the conglomeration of hundreds and hundreds of abilities, becomes nothing more than an animalistic, violent, unthinking dragon -- exactly why fyodor sees abilities as the “ultimate sin,” because they do nothing more than wreak chaos and destruction in his eyes. he used shibusawa as an example of just how low ability users can sink -- completely ignoring ability users like atsushi or kyouka, who have chosen to seek the “light” of existence/life by literally just accepting their abilities as something to be used for good!
fyodor, ironically, is doing the same thing as atsushi and kyouka -- except he’s twisted it around so that he only sees his own ability as something to be used for “humanity’s good.” he sees himself as a hero and every other ability user as a villain, completely blinding himself to the fact that other ability users are also making individual choices, every day, to use their abilities for the sake of protecting other humans rather than destroying them, the way shibusawa does (because he’d lost sight of his own identity and reason to live, not because of his collection of abilities). it implies that he sees himself as a god because he’s the only one with free choice; he believes that everyone else has to bend to the “natural urges” of their abilities, impulses, and so on. it implies that the entire reason he looks down on humanity is because he doesn’t think they have free will.
...and so, as it always is with me, it comes down to “man what the hell was fyodor and nikolai’s relationship” i’m DESPERATE to know more about it. does fyodor see nikolai as a god, like him, because nikolai is so purposefully “defying god” and working towards his own death -- he, like fyodor, is both the crime and his own punishment? at the same time, though, does fyodor see nikolai as actually having free will, or just as a bird who recognizes that they’re in the cage -- while still submitting to the whims and orders of higher powers, like himself and fukuchi -- and has thus bent nikolai’s desires for his own hidden purposes? when will the sigma, nikolai, and fyodor subplot come back from the fucking war? asagiri kafka i am on my knees BEGGING to know
#ciphertexts#bungou stray dogs#fake tvtropes analysis#HAVING LOTS OF THOUGHTS RIGHT NOW. HEAD IS VERY FULL#god i could talk about this shit forever. what the fuck#dazai too... i didn't even address dazai in this goddamn essaypost like. he doesnt lose his abilities during shibusawa's fog either!#ghhh the easy answer is that dazai just nullified the fog.. but idk i feel like that's a cheap way out of character analysis#i think you could make the argument that dazai does genuinely accept himself as 'inhuman'#he's an ability user but like. ironically the OPPOSITE of every other ability user#which is exactly what he wants to be. he doesn't want to be seen as human because in his mind sakunosuke was the ultimate 'human'#dazai idolized sakunosuke's devotion so much that he's fine w/ not having morals as long as he's following sakunosuke's morals#which is interesting to think about... how he tried to give akutagawa/atsushi the same mindset. nothing matters but following your teacher#WHICH IS. an entire other essaypost on its own that im not writing in the tags
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Zuko finds out about the White Lotus in season 1
AKA the mine of Zuko angst that has been woefully under-exploited, imo
Zuko is not stupid, he knows uncle is not stupid, and there is no way the Dragon of the West would spend so much time on a Pai Sho tile. And there are all the other times he just stood there when he could have helped, and who is he writing a letter to anyway, and no, Zuko is not spying on Uncle he just has questions.
Okay, Zuko is spying on Uncle, but that is because the first burst of hope in 3 years followed by repeated failures and fucking Zhao are taking their tole. Iroh may be discreet, and good at spotting a trail; it doesn’t mean he is prepared for the suspicions of the Blue Spirit.
Okay, so Uncle is working with a secret society. And he has betrayed Zuko the Fire Nation. Fine, this is fine, Zuko just.... just needs to think. If he captures the Avatar, then he can go home, and the crew can go home and Uncle can stop doing treason or at least do it from home, in a way that doesn’t jeopardize the life of both his nephew and the crew. He just needs to capture the Avatar. Only Uncle apparently doesn’t want Zuko to capture the Avatar, but Zuko has to protect his crew and his Uncle and oh Agni, he needs to go yell for a bit.
(And Uncle hasn’t told him. He watched Zuko run around, played him for a fool. He must have laughed watching Zuko spin in circles, oblivious to the greater plot. Just like Azula did; just like father did.)
And if this gets out then they are all dead. And Zuko he... he could imagine dying for uncle, but the crew hasn’t had a word to say about it, and dammit Uncle, do you even care?
Zuko can sort of keep it together around Iroh (who is largely blinded by the fact that he doesn’t expect to be found out at all. He knows his nephew, Zuko is still too focused on his quest and his father. iroh will tell him when he’s ready.)
Unfortunately, the Wani is about the size of 5 shoeboxes, and Zuko cannot keep it together long enough to fool his crew. And look, the crew of the Wani may be 50 shades of disgraced, but they aren’t stupid.
So a quick investigation allows them to quickly grasp that apparently, cool music-night Prince is doing treason and risking their lives doing so, whilst angry teen Prince is actively concerned about protecting them, and wow, just wow, we need to reevaluate our world perspective, guys.
Iroh is hiding his treason from his nephew. Zuko is trying to hide the fact that he knows from his Uncle, the fact of it alone from his crew, and also trying to hide his oncoming breakdown. The crew is hiding the fact that they know from both of them, until they figure the safest move for them. (And wow, angry teen prince.... really cares a lot. Is that even allowed? Like, legally?)
Plausible deniability and plain denial are the only things holding this mess together.
Let’s go to the North, everybody!
#zuko#avatar#a:tla#avatar the last airbender#tw: swearing#this is largely do to the issue raised by#muffinlance#a true visionary#white lotus au
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Compass for team chaotic good
Compass: who’s the moral compass? in general: what are your OCs’ morality like? do they have high morals, or not? are their morals self imposed, or do they base their morals on religion/family/influence of others? Well, considering that they’re called Team Chaotic Good, that should give you a pretty solid idea of what they’re about! But not everyone is ACTUALLY chaotic good. Some aren’t even Chaotic. Or Good, in fact! Funnily enough, about half of them are Lawful, actually. So here’s the breakdown. Team Chaotic Good has quite a few members, so I’ll put it under a cut, as it’s a bit long.
Kíhyué: The team leader. Is Actually Chaotic Good. Has a very strong moral core, and while he doesn’t expect everyone he associates with to actually BE good-aligned, he damn well expects them all to act like it. The society he was raised in was largely Lawful/Neutral, but his outlook ended up completely different as a result of the mistreatment he suffered at the hands of strict laws and “neutral” stances that did more harm than good. “No such thing as an innocent bystander. You stand by and do nothing, you do not want to get involved, fine. But do not call yourself innocent. Do not say you did no harm when you could have done good instead.”
Inimicia: Sort of like his second in command, she’s Exalted Lawful Good. Not something you’d expect from the infamous Assassin Queen, or a half-vampire, or someone whose name literally means “the enemy,” but she’s had a long hard crawl up from being born chaotic evil and like hell she’s going to give up the good fight now. Her morals are 100% self-imposed, and she goes out of her way to find others in need of similar impositions and help them learn how to use objectively evil powers for good. Her order of assassins is ironically mostly good aligned, and she works very hard to keep it that way, sending them on missions to slay demons and devils and other undeniable evils who’ve managed to blend into society. This often leads to them looking like the bad guys, of course... nobility who keep their sinister deeds well hidden suddenly drop dead murdered in their own homes, and no one understands why. No one, except the victims of their cruelty whose pleas Inimicia’s spies overhear. She’s especially wary of religion, and any religion that claims to serve “the greater good.” A deity, of course, has the power to decide just what they think the greater good actually is, and cannot be trusted not to be acting solely in their own self-interest, or to actually do good deeds at all. “Go ahead. Paint me as your enemy. The world can believe you all it wants to, I’ll be the villain if you make me. I’ll still know the truth... and so will you.” Xadrea Shadowborn: Is Exalted Chaotic Good out of sheer spite and determination. Unlike Kíhyué, she absolutely expects Good out of everyone, even if she has to drag them kicking and screaming into behaving like decent human beings. Arguably this is the result of outside influence, though it’s... complicated. Essentially, she and her companions in a different universe had been given these artifacts that would tempt them into corruption in exchange for power, ultimately transforming them into an avatar of one of the Archdukes of Hell if they succumbed to enough temptations to lose their souls. Xadrea watched this happen to SEVEN of her party members. She outright refused to fall, ended up hosting the deity Heironeous instead of an archfiend, and saved the universe, all thanks to pure fucking spite and refusing to do as she was told by the voice in her head. Her sense of justice and honour don’t always conform to what one would expect of a literal divine embodiment of Valor, but she argues that’s what makes her best for the job, since she absolutely will not get caught up over doing the lawful thing as opposed to the right thing... something she and Kíhyué both agree is what makes their approach to fighting evil the best one. Her morals, ultimately, come from the shitty little slothful voice in the back of her mind that wants her to lie down and accept defeat, protect herself and forget the world... “Oh, you wish I’d quit, don’t you? Well it’s not gonna happen. NEVER gonna happen. You want apathy from me? Get bent, devil. I’m going to CARE. I am going to care SO much, ON PURPOSE, about EVERYTHING but you, and you can’t fucking stop me.” Anaziah the Kind: A paladin of freedom, Anaziah is another actual Chaotic Good member. If her former epithet of “the Wrathful” isn’t enough of an indication, she certainly didn’t used to have a moral compass, and it’s a testament to her strength of will that she’s managed to change and become a better person. She’s still pretty new at this whole “being a good person” thing, and looks to Faendys and the others for guidance, very grateful to all of them for giving her a chance instead of judging the Drow book by its cover. “I was raised to hate everything that wasn’t like us. To hate, to subjugate, to destroy. But... I was never really like ‘us,’ was I? All they ever really taught me was how to hate myself. The surface world isn’t like that. I’m free here. I’m allowed to love instead. It’s not easy, but, doesn’t everyone deserve the chance to try?” Faendys: Neutral Good, Faendys is the very calm one, who’s never trying to make any sort of deep commentary on anything on purpose, but often ends up making unsettlingly wise comments anyway. They rarely have to say much, and rarely do say much when things get serious, but their small voice piping up with something profound is always what gets the rest of them to shut up and act reasonably when their opposing alignments cause conflict. Even if it’s just a simple “That’s... not okay,” Faendys trusts their gut when it comes to tough ethical dilemmas, and the others generally listen to them. “I know it sounds hard. And it’s probably going to make us a lot of enemies. Even if we get away with it. But... we haven’t been afraid of that before, have we? They need our help, and we know it. What makes this time any different?” Arekos Aidoneus: A dread necromancer who’s also the party healer, Arekos is Lawful Neutral, and the only thing preventing him from being Good is the fact that many of the spells he casts are technically evil (see: raising armies of undead). However, he’s very careful to only use these spells for good purposes, and also has a few spells from the Book of Exalted Deeds on his list... his moral fibre is rather complex. His approach to the subject is based very strongly on his culture and religion: keep the balance in all things, use your dark powers only to serve the light, and defend the cause of good for the cause of evil needs no help to prosper. This creed is how he stays lawful despite actively working towards arguably chaotic goals, because dismantling the government brick by brick is, in fact, something he is required by his social and religious obligations to do, provided that the government in question is evil. Kíhyué and Xadrea absolutely hate it when he brings this up. “The world would love to prove that we cannot be good, that we cannot be kind, that we cannot be anything but evil and should not exist. I should very much like to prove them all wrong.” Amanthos Panideios: Also Lawful Neutral, with a heavy emphasis on Lawful, this librarian monk knows full well that he does not really fit in here... so he follows the others’ lead more often than not, managing to stay lawful despite the chaotic things they get up to the same way Arekos does. He also just... avoids getting directly involved with anything that would involve breaking the law in ways he can’t rationalise. Amanthos is not Moral, he is Ethical, and this is both a good thing (he’s able to rationalise many of the chaotic things he engages with as actually complying with the code of ethics he is meant to follow) and a bad thing (not everything has an easy answer, and it’s very easy for him to potentially fall into Lawful Evil behaviour if someone else isn’t around to check his work). “Oh dear... we didn’t cover this in any of my moral philosophy lectures... Arekos? Arekos, do you know the answer to this one?” Psamion: The bard, the sea captain, the Chaotic Neutral (but good-leaning!) one. He did his time as the hero, and quite frankly he hated every second of it, it traumatised him thoroughly, and he never wants to speak of it again. He’s perfectly content to continue doing his best to help people, in his own way, but absolutely does not want to let himself get dragged into another high-stakes demon hunt to the Hells and back, because he barely came out of the last one alive. That being said, Kíhyué is his closest friend in the entire universe, and he would do anything for him... so, naturally, when Kíhyué says “We have to save the world again,” Psamion just sighs, packs his things, and says “Can’t it just stay saved for once?” as he follows Kíhyué out the door. “Look, I don’t much care for this whole ‘getting involved’ thing, but if Kíhyué says it’s time to put up a fight, and he needs my help, you’d best believe I’m pulling out my knives and hucking a flaming bottle wherever he points me to. The world’s in trouble, and damn it all, by some miracle I’m STILL one of the idiots who lives in it, thanks to him... If I’m gonna fight, it may as well be a good fight.” Eomer: Is a gryphon. Kíhyué raised him from a hatchling, and their moral cores are as such pretty much identical... though Eomer is much more empathetic and often needs to give Kíhyué a kick in a more compassionate direction. “I think you very brave for trying. Maybe we fail, yes, happen some times. But what if not! Any thing can happen! Good thing, even! You would not even try for good? For happy thing? Stupid. Go try. Come try with me. I will go by myself, yes? No? Good! Together, we stand a chance, always worth a chance.”
#rixa writes#team chaotic good#whew this ate a good several hours#sorry it got so long#but thanks for the ask!!!#romulan-raptorstar
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Life & our world is to us, what a forrest is to a spider
Some have decided that the definition of philosophy is "the study of the fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence, especially when considered as an academic discipline".
Anyone can, and should do that from time to time. It's all about how and where you focus your thoughts. We think constantly anyways, at school, work - literally everywhere. But the more time you spend thinking about stupid shit that don't matter - the more time of your life is lost to where you could have grown mentally and become more enlightened, and reached towards greater potential.
One must spend time speculating about the riddle in order to figure out the solution, and the longer you speculate - the more will you realize and figure out.
There are thousands of subjects that we have, and are, observing with our few limited senses, that sleeps in our subconsciousness. Wisdom is within you when you understand the mechanisms, "the clockwork", of what you observe around you. Even if the only mechanisms you can wrap your head around is just like small watch, your mind will grow from there, just like the trees spread their branches into the world - if you decide to. You will grow mentally just like a snowball effect, the golden ratio.
Although, the human consciousness' perception is too narrow and weakly built to be able to observe even a fraction of this whole universe, that small fraction we actually are able to observe through a human life, is as important to us in the same way that a forrest is the whole world and even more so, to a spider.
Acceptance is a key in life. If you can accept the pointless circumstances, our life & body's great limitations - you will have more time to appreciate some of the amazingness that are within our reach.
Quit that anxiety-driven overthinking of yours that beats you every night - it get's you nowhere but backwards. You can channel your mental energy towards concepts and interests that actually will better your life quality - instead of worrying/obsessing over how you look or what others think (about anything, really). What's the point of knowing everything about a celebrity you'll most likely never even meet, when you could have known how to deal with your shit instead.
You know, your whole life is spent inside your brain.
Another thing; how fast people think is very realtive, because of the brain-metabolism. Many people's thoughts run at the same speed, but some people think faster in general than others. If a person's brain-metabolism is faster than other's - say twice as fast, that person will be mentally twice as "old" or "mature" as others their age... With light shed on that, the concept of "maturity" weakens as it is very relative - too relative to even actually be real. It only exists in the realities of people who live in illusions in society, because their lives & minds are limited by... overthinking about stupid stuff that don't matter. You may not know it, but that TV may be stealing away some of your potential in life. What if all the hours you ever have spent on TV, were spent on physics or mathematics? Then you would've been a fucking genious by now.
No one ever performed anything worth mentioning, by sitting on their ass doing nothing all day. Leonardo Da Vinci, a historical person that I personally admire, were curious about what the fuck the human body looked like inside. Without hesitation, he decided to go to morgues and disect dead bodies to study them. That's not the greatest about him, but someone had to do that eventually. Him, Michelangelo, Nikola Tesla, and other great people didn't accomplish what they did by living a lazy lifestyle. The first they did was THINK, and a thought is a like seed with potentials so might - it drove them to achieve what we see as greatness. Sometimes you have to do bold things to get to where you want, like how Da Vinci disected bodies and Elon Musk ditched Harvard.
Society is just like a whole bunch of people playing videogames, where they decide their opinions of others judged in scales of maturity, idiocy, criminals, etc - if they don't play the same game.
Quotation(s) and thoughts by me,
- Victoria Tangen
#byme#truths#philosophy#deepthinking#deep thinking#deep thoughts#deep#actually deep#enlightenyourself#personal growth#existensialism#nihilism#longread
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the water of life || atsuko & atsu || trial 6.6 || re: clement, kazuko, cyril
It’s a wonder to Atsu how Clement doesn’t immediately step away, push her off of him, leave her alone like she deserves. All of those times that she’d spoken about being a beast and a monster, they’d been about the serial killing, yes, but they’d also encompassed sins that she didn’t even remember committing, was positive that, with the body and mind she’d had, she hadn’t. When he does none of those things, even steps in front of her as though she’s the one who needs protecting from the old bitty who’s lording it up at the desk, she looks at him with wonder in her eyes. There might not be a dragon to slay, so to speak, but it reminds her more than a bit of those fairy tales.
Her daydreaming is cut short, and Atsuko’s fiery rant at her clone is also silenced by the existence of questions being posed to them. She didn’t miss these sorts of interviews. For sixty years, she’s avoided them, but she’s not unused to unwanted, unsolicited phone calls asking her inane and useless questions. Bo and Kisuke did a wonderful job of bothering her even after all of these years. Too bad she could never block their numbers.
As predicted, she does roll her eyes when Cyril goes and kisses Naoya on the head, but she waits until he’s done to respond to anything.
(But not before Atsu can get a squawk of “I’m right fucking here!” at the aging comment.)
“I’ll speak to the clone however I want. She’s undeserving of sharing a name with me, so she’s undeserving of decency as well since she so likes to disregard basic kindnesses like not betraying everything we’ve ever worked for. None of you are even really people. Just incomplete prototypes of the human beings society needs if it wants to thrive as a utopia, if we want any chance of creating a mortal Elysium.
As for your original selves: they’re dead. They were all killed in the first iteration of the experiment. The control group, so to speak. You found a file detailing that, or did it slip your mind already? I know there’s not much in there, so surely you can find room for it.”
Atsuko’s nails clack against the desk as she rhythmically taps her fingers one by one, staring at Clement with none of the familiarity her gaze held for him even on the plane. He is, in her mind, a stranger. They knew each other once, but things have changed, and she has no attachment to this clone any longer.
“Even if I disagree or disagreed with some things that Clara Futura did, it was all for the greater good. Humanity is flawed. Humans are flawed. Something is wrong in our creation that causes us to all eventually become self-serving, arrogant, unempathetic, and cruel. We are only out for ourselves and our own survival. Although problematic, you all, as well as myself, have some shred of hope for improvement. You were thought to be the ones who could be trained to rid yourselves of the need to kill and serve yourselves through selfish survival instincts. Don't ask me why some of you were chosen because I couldn't fucking hazard a guess. Maybe Ryo's just too stupid to see past pretty faces. It wouldn't surprise me. However, as you can very clearly see, you’ve all failed each and every time for the past 60 years. Congratulations.”
She says that with as much ire and sarcasm as she can physically muster--which is quite a bit! She’s got 60 years of hatred to work with.
“Even CF refused to see this through--that’s another problem with humanity, you know, you people are all too willing to just give up. You’re all too willing to throw in the towel at the slightest sign of resistance or turbulence. Nothing will ever get done if no one sees things through, and so nothing will ever improve. I refuse to lower myself to that, to become a quitter. Even if it took my entire lifetime, I would never stop because this must work. They talk about how the world has become a better place, but it’s still the same, the slime and muck and scum that have always been there are still there.”
While Atsuko speaks, Atsu looks on, and she’s unable to argue until the very end.
“You’re wrong. You’re blinded by some toxic preconceived notion that spawned from, what, some high schoolers taking the easy way out?! Police not helping, god, ten--no, seventy--years ago? Our father not helping in our childhood? Hope’s Peak being Hope’s Peak? If you just bothered to listen and wait and ask for help, then people would have--”
A bang rings out as Atsuko slams her hand against the desk.
“Help!? Ask for help!? Because that’s gone over so well in the past! People duck out as soon as it gets difficult or they just don’t see the need or they just don’t fucking care enough to bother. You’re just blinded by meaningless words! What makes these promises different from others, hm? Nothing! They will all amount to nothing.”
Once more, both Atsuko and Atsu fall silent, staring each other down with venom dripping from their teeth.
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Her Father’s Daughter - Chapter 4
Title: Her Father’s Daughter
Raiting: R/Mature
Chapter Word Count: 2,323
MASTER LIST
Chapter Four: Sad Goodbyes, Strange Men and Stranger Mustaches
Negan was not what most people would have called thrilled when his daughter brought home her cousin and his weight in weed but he did see a change in his daughter as the days passed and turned into weeks. The pair had always close, more like brother and sister most said than cousins. For years they even went by the same name, Joey. They offered each other a different kind of comfort than what Negan could give either of them so he stopped poking fun at Joey so much and just accepted that he was not part of his family.
While things with his family were going well, the outside world was getting more and more chaotic. Large groups of the dead were gathering together and attacking anything with a pulse that got too close. So they ramped up their scavenging and managed to salvage a decent sized camper from a gas station with only having to kill 4 infected. That’s when the decision to leave, to try to find a larger group was made.
Even though the three of them had each other’s backs to the end, Jolene had to be the one to point out the uncomfortable truth. “If a group of them… let’s say 40 or more swarm us. No matter how hard we fight, no matter how good any of us are with our guns or knives. One of us is gonna die at least, if not all of us. We are getting too out numbered.” It wasn’t a matter of debate for her, if the two men in her life didn’t realize this she feared they were going to be doomed. There was no nice way to put it and it seemed like these days she was the only one with any perspective on the scope of the situation and Jolene was not happy about the fact she was the only one of the three thinking about tomorrow. Her pale face read like an open book. Her eyes were heavy and tired from late nights of trying to figure out the next move the need to make. She let a heavy sigh and ran her hands through her long hair that fell like a ebony wave over her the light fabric of her grey t-shirt.
Negan and Joey looked at each other uncomfortably because what Jolene said was the truth. “So what a risk it on the open road?” Joey asked very seriously. “How is that any safer?”
“Dumbass has a point.” Negan interjected quickly.
Jolene crossed her arms in front of her chest and let out a huff. “We can’t wait for people to find us. That isn’t gonna happen. We ain’t gonna get some nice stranger in a cowboy hat coming up to us asking if we want to join their community!” She threw her hands up out of frustration at the thought. “That shit don’t even happen in the movies.” She couldn’t hold it back any more and let out a low scream out of frustration causing Joey and her father to stare nervously up at her. “We have been all over town… in every building, house and business… everyone is either gone or dead. We are the only one’s stupid enough to still be sitting here having this fucking discussion because you two..” She said pointing a finger at each of them. “You think we have something to save here and we don’t boys… sorry to fucking disappoint! All that is left is ghosts and corpses that want to fucking eat us.”
Joey and Negan grumbled and the older man leaned forward. “So what do you think is the best plan… oh zombie apocalypse expert child of mine. What did hundreds of hours in your stupid games teach you.” Her father was being obviously condescending though he was curious to see what his daughter was going to say. He had been more than impressed with the way she had handled herself in this new world but he still worried that she was not thinking with her right mind all the time. She took risks he didn’t think were necessary, giving him his fair share of new grey hairs. Though, for the most part she had made the right call when it came to things like securing water and ammunition and only taking head shots to conserve ammo. He knew in heart of hearts though his daughter was struggling with all the death that had suddenly filled her life.
Jolene started to pace as she spoke. “We need to find some place with defenses, sustainability, fresh water, if we had a power source like solar panels basic things like lights and fridges could be run.” She mused as she paced but then she stopped and turned towards the men. “These places aren’t going to just not be settled. We are what 5 weeks, 6 since all this started . Any place that was suitable already is already taken and that presents a whole new set of issues.” Jolene pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. She should have seen that they needed to leave sooner but part of her wanted to stay in the only place she had ever felt safe, but the world was changing at an alarming rate and sitting ideally by was going to serve none of them in the long run. She took a deep breath remember her father’s words that first day they were reunited, she needed be strong for her mother. She could her Lucille’s voice echo through her mind ‘You can do this, you can beat this world my brave girl..’
Negan turned to Joey. “What the hell does she mean?” He asked somewhat clueless of what it was his daughter was referring to. He watched his daughter pace and knew that no matter what was best for them he had to get her away from this house if he had any hope of keeping his daughter sane. ‘Negan… you know she shouldn’t just have you and Joseph for company… she needs people darling.’ His wife’s voice echoed in his mind as Joey began to speak.
“Society is gone Coach… No Law… No Order… No Law and Order either..” He said with an uncomfortable laugh, his joke had fallen on deaf ears at that point. “I thought that was funny… but people are going to go back to a tribal society. It happens in every post apocalyptic movies and video game.”
Negan brought his hand to his face and shook his head unable to believe that his daughter and her cousin were probably right using their video game logic. “Fucking go on…” Negan said with a heavy sigh.
“Well when you revert to a tribal mentality you really aren’t trying to look at the greater good of society like most people did up till 6 weeks ago.” Jolene nodded as her cousin spoke. “So everything becomes and us versus them mentality.”
“We can hope that if we leave soon, come across a community within a few weeks that looks viable that they may be willing to accept new people but it’s going to be tougher as time goes on. Once the resources start getting limited…” Jolene started to shake her head and looked over at Joey who was doing the same thing. “It’s going to come down to whoever has the most… controls the most.”
Negan gave a slow nod and leaned back on his couch. “Well… I guess we better pack up the cars and trailers with everything we can and hit the road kids.” Negan stood up and the Joeys looked at each other for a moment as Negan stared at the two young adults. “Are you fucking deaf, dumb and stupid…fucking hustle.” Negan was in coach mode now, barking orders as Joey and Jolene started to gather supplies and load it into the three vehicles they had and two trailers.
Loading everything up took most of the day and some of the night but by the next morning they were ready to leave, weather they were really ready or not. Leaving the house was far more emotional than either Negan or Jolene had expected. Jolene had barely slept the night before. Trying to memorize every detail of her bedroom that she had since she was 5 years old, from the cracked window casing from when she broken in after she snuck out one night and her father locked her out trying to catch her. To the poems that she written in sharpie on the wall under the window next to her bed where she would sit and daydream on bright summer afternoons, writing them down on scrap pieces of papers and tucking them in her bag so she would remember them when the memories of this place started to fade.
Negan too couldn’t sleep the previous night, he found himself wondering around his home getting fixated on little details like the notches in the pantry door where Lucille had measured Jolene every year on her birthday. The precise color of blue that the kitchen was painted after a three day argument as newlyweds, so many memories filled every corner of that house because it was more that just a building, it was one of the last few physical embodiments of Lucille’s dedication to their family.
As dawn broke and they placed the last few items in the vehicles Negan and Jolene stood at the end of the drive way just staring at the house. Jolene remembered when they moved in, it was her first real vivid memory. Her father and Lucille had just gotten married, she was almost 5 and getting ready to start kindergarten. How the house looked like something from a story book. A little brick house, with white shutters and red door.
Closing her eyes for a moment she could still feel the joy she had as she ran into the empty house laughing and screaming how she finally had her own room. Jolene was shaken from her thoughts when her father placed his hand on her shoulder and kissed the side of her head. “It’s time princess…” Jolene turned into her father and started to sob softly into his chest.
Negan wrapped his arms around his daughter and held her tightly as his daughter sobbed against his chest. Out of the corner of his eye Negan saw Joey move towards him. “Not now..” He snapped before he kissed the top of Jolene’s head. “There is nothing but death and sadness left in that house, you said that remember… it stopped being a home when your mama stopped breathing. Now we gotta move on… be strong…” Jolene gripped the back of her father’s black t-shirt as she continued to cry hard. “We had a beautiful life here… but it was all your mama. This place won’t ever feel the same. We would have moved probably any way.” He said smoothing her hair, rocking with her slightly as he stood gazing up the house. He kissed the top of his daughter’s head. “Come on Jo, time to go conquer the world.” He smiled down at Jolene who looked up at him through tears.
“For mama..” Jolene said softly as she gained her some of her composure back and wiped the stray tears from her cheeks.
Negan shook his head. “No, for you…” He leaned his forehead against her’s for a moment, “Now get your ass to that station wagon… your burning daylight.” He said with his usual jovial manner and it made his daughter chuckle as she started walking towards her car turning back to give her father a little mock salute. “Yeah that’s right, remember who is the one in charge here you two. So no fucking funny business and I am looking at you Joseph!” Negan called at the two teens met up and gave each other a much needed hug before the three all finally got in their respective vehicles and leaving their homes for what would be the last time.
They were in no race because they didn’t know where they were going. They would drive for a few hours, stopping at any place that looked like it had anything useful left. It went on like that for days. Uneventful, downright boring even. It wasn’t until the fifth day did they finally run across a group of three rough looking men and fuel truck at a gas station.
They pulled their cars over and Negan instructed Jolene and Joey to stay in their cars. Negan walked with his hands up towards the men who had pistols drawn on him. “Hey… my kids and I ain’t looking for trouble guys.” Negan started as he gestured towards the cars.
The men still had guns drawn as a lanky, thin man with a thick mustache took a few steps forward and lowered his gun. “So what is it are you looking for buddy?”
Negan chuckled, “Well some place safe for those kids for one…” The men started to eye the cars making Negan look back somewhat nervous to see Jolene watching the exchange wide eyed.
The man with the mustache turned to his group who lowered the weapons. “You seem to have quite a bit of supplies…”
Negan chuckled. “You don’t know the half of what we have…” Negan looked back again at the cars and then back at the group of men.
“If you want to share your supplies… we have a place that has fences to keep the dead out. You and your kids can come with us.” The man with the mustache motioned for the other men to leave and Negan gave him a thankful nod. “You got a name there buddy?”
“Negan..”
“I’m Simon, pleasure to meet ya.” The man said with a slightly unsettling smile before turning and walking back towards his truck and the fuel tanker.
#the walking dead#the walking dead fan fiction#twd fanfiction#negan fanction#simon the savior#simon twd#negan#negan twd#twd negan#negan fanfic#negan fan fiction#negan x lucille#lucille#Negan's Daughter#twd fan fic#twd fan fiction#fanfiction#ff: her father's daughter
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Resistance is Futile
The virus is real. The virus is here. It is highly contagious and potentially deadly. I think we can debate about the severity and the origins of the virus later, or, we could debate it now, but while staying the hell away from each other and cutting off this thing's lifeline.
Okay, so, it's easy for me to have that opinion. I'm lucky. Kind of. Ish. I've kept my job. Kind of. Ish. My pay has actually been slashed pretty badly. Commission has been cancelled for April and May so I'm going to be getting base pay only. Okay, yeah, I know a lot of people only get base pay and I was one of them for a very long time, and I’m lucky to have gotten anything above and beyond that. But I have been getting paid above and beyond my base pay and I've grown accustomed to a new comfort level. The stimulus covers that for this month, so I’m not feeling it yet. But I'm lucky to have kept my job and gained the flexibility to do it from home, which is something I've been lobbying for to management for the past four years, anyway.
But the immediate lifestyle adjustments? Fuck, man. This is heaven. Sequestration is magical. I have a valid reason now for telling people to stay the fuck away from me when before I was just an asshole. I never had any desire to go anywhere anyway — and now I have the perfect excuse, and zero guilt. It's fucking fantastic.
Okay, so, I like the lockdown. It's not hard for me. I'm working from home, which is perfection. I want my commission pay back, my performance-based earnings, but aside from that, we can keep this lockdown going for everyone capable of working remotely for just as long as … well, forever. We can just keep this up forever.
I don't miss anything. I don't miss eating out. I don't miss going out. In fact, I just had to go out, and it was sheer hell. I needed a VGA cable immediately, so I ordered one from Best Buy for curbside pickup. Traffic is fucking stupid. Fucking assholes everywhere. Nobody at Best Buy was wearing a mask or gloves, and they're walking up to customers' cars handing them merchandise, talking to each other in close quarters. The guy who handed me my purchase weighed at least four hundred pounds. If he gets this virus, he's pretty likely dead. This thing isn't kind to the morbidly obese. Unfortunately, most of central Indiana is morbidly obese.
Okay, so, all cards on the table, I have ulterior motives. I like things shut down. So, of course I'm going to champion this course of action. But I also just think it's the right thing … nay, the ONLY thing to do right now. The death toll will likely be at or very near 45,000 by the time I post this, and it is climbing steeply on a daily basis. And that's with all of the extreme social distancing most of us are practicing right now. If we hadn't done this, if we hadn't shut down, we'd be over 200,000 deaths, easy, and it would be fucking chaos out there. Hospitals would be beyond capacity, mayhem would ensue. I have no proof of that, it's just what I think. I can't prove something that I think would have happened under different circumstances.
I'm not terrified of this thing. I'm being respectfully cautious. This is a formidable enemy. My goal is to not get it, to avoid it completely. That way I don't roll the immune system dice on this disease at all, and I maintain a zero fault status in the spread of the virus. If I can pull that off, that will be a perfect game, I win. But this thing is highly contagious, and it is in my city, and it is inside far more people than the daily news numbers show because hardly anyone is being tested. Also, a lot of people get it, and they are just fine. If I get it, I will likely be okay. But, that's not a guarantee. There is a risk. People say the mainstream media is collectively sensationalizing this. Well, of course they are, in their way. Of course they're playing it up for ratings, that's what they do.
But I don't think they are making it sound worse than it is. I was watching a news broadcast and they said that eighty-six percent of the people under fifty who died of COVID-19 had an underlying health condition such as an autoimmune disorder, obesity, diabetes, high-blood pressure, asthma, or being a smoker. First of all, those are all pretty common. That's a lot of at-risk people. But second, that's what they did say. Eighty-six percent of those under fifty who died had an underlying health condition. But what they didn't say, and what I heard was this: Fourteen percent of the people under fifty who died of COVID-19 did NOT have an underlying health condition. That sounds fucking scary. Yes, that is still a small number. Most of the people who die from COVID-19 are over eighty years of age. So, the percentage of people who died who are under fifty is low, and it's fourteen percent of that number … but still. That's otherwise healthy young people with no underlying health conditions who are dying. Greater risk for the elderly doesn't equal zero risk for the young. That's not how math or statistics work.
I've watched videos online from real people. Nurses on the front lines in the hardest hit cities describing chaotic and dangerous conditions in hospitals. People who got the disease pretty badly, but recovered, recounting their terrifying near-death experiences. Yes, a lot of people have a sniffle and a cough. Yes, some people remain asymptomatic throughout the life of their infection, remaining symptom free, but still allowing the virus to replicate in their bodies so they can spread it. But this thing just slaps the fuck out of some people, and sometimes kills them, for no reason. Not because they're old, or sick, or have an otherwise compromised immune system, but they’re just simply unlucky. I mean, maybe there’s something we don’t know. Perhaps they all have something in common, some underlying factor that hasn’t been identified as a risk. That’s surely possible. But still — do you have it, this factor? Do I?
But fear of getting infected isn't the main reason to distance and hunker down.
We should stay locked down and we should try our best not to spread it because it's extremely contagious, and there is a pretty large section of our society, who, for various reasons, really shouldn't be put into battle with this virus. A lot of them don't have a chance, and we, as a society, need to do the right fucking thing and keep this bug as far away from them as we can. And if caring about the sick and elderly is outside of your capacity, just know that you aren't safe, either. It could kill you, too. Fourteen percent of the people under fifty who died from COVID-19 did not have an underlying medical condition or compromised immune system. I'm sure they all thought they would be fine.
I have learned the following by reading articles written by experts in the field.
There are eight strains of SARS-CoV-2 circulating the globe right now that cause the disease COVID-19. No one strain is deadlier than another, they are all very similar to each other. SARS-CoV-2 is not likely to rapidly mutate and go airborne or get into the water supply. Its current method of transmission from human to human is so effective it has no immediate need to try to adapt or evolve. If and when it does need to evolve to try to bypass our eventual vaccine, it will take it a while. Coronavirus evolves, or mutates, at a slow rate, about four times slower than influenza.
I should be citing this stuff, but this is a blog, not a peer-reviewed paper. This isn't shit I've discovered through testing and examination, and I’m not trying to formulate my own hypothesis. I’m no expert in any of this, I'm just repeating shit I've found from articles that were well-sourced, and anyone can find them by Googling this stuff and seeing where I found it. But I digress, as I am wont to do. Anyway, more science facts.
SARS-CoV-2 spreads from human to human in both large droplets and aerosol that exit the body during a cough, sneeze, panting, heavy breathing, etc. Any method that would allow moisture to escape the mouth on the breath. The virus can hang suspended in mist for up to three hours and remain active. The virus can live on paper and cardboard for up to 24 hours, and can live for up to 72 hours on plastic, stainless steel, and other smooth shiny surfaces.
So, on a relatively humid day, and, I know, how many of those are we going to see in mid-Spring, right? On a relatively humid day, an infected person sneezes. That infected aerosol can join with the water already in the air, and just float around ready to be breathed in for up to three hours. So, sure, stay six feet away, but if you move into a space someone else was just standing, you're now breathing in what they just breathed out.
I don't care who says what about masks. I don't need someone to explain to me how and why masks work. I get that the virus is small and can pass through very small openings and to be fully effective a mask would have to be rated to work against particles as small as the virus, which in this case is N-95. But I also understand that if you're sick and you cough and you're wearing a piece of cloth over your face, you're going to greatly decrease the chances that you're going to spread the virus. Yes, small aerosols will make it through, but a lot of the germs will be caught and never enter the atmosphere. So, yeah, masks are prudent. Any of us could have it, and we should try not to spread it in case we do.
I am lucky and I get to stay in my house. I don’t know what lies I’d be telling myself if I had to go out in the world every day like nothing has changed and do a thankless job. Everyone still out in the world and not practicing social distancing will probably get this. I may get this, despite my best efforts. Most of us will be okay. Some of us won’t.
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Heathers (1989) Sentence Starters!
Dear Diary...
Real life sucks losers dry.
If you want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly.
You're beautiful!
What is your damage?
Do they even have Thanksgiving in Africa?
This wouldn't be that bizarro thing you were babbling about over the phone last night, would it?
Hey, I'm really sorry I couldn't make it to your birthday party last month.
Think I'd probably miss my own birthday for a date.
I was looking around the other day and I dug up.. these old photographs.
I was talking to somebody.
Check this out. You win five million dollars from the Publisher's Sweepstakes, and the same day that what’s-his-face gives you the check, aliens land on the earth and say they're going to blow up the world in two days. What do you do?
Why can't we talk to different kinds of people?
Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.
Do I look like Mother Theresa?
Does it not bother you that everybody in this school thinks that you're a piranha?
What are you gonna do with the money?
I'd pay Madonna a million bucks to sit on my face and have her ride like the Kentucky derby..
That's gotta be the most spooky-assed question I ever heard.
You wanted to be a member of the most powerful clique in school. If I wasn't already the head of it, I'd want the same thing.
You used to have a sense of humour.
You know, maybe you should see a doctor.
God, _____, drool much?
Greetings and salutations.
There are no stupid questions.
That's the stupidest question I've ever heard.
Let's kick his ass!
We're too old for that kinda crap.
You gonna eat this?
What'd you say, dickhead?
Can you bleach out urine stains?
I thought you had given up on high school guys.
Did you have a brain tumour for breakfast?
So, tonight's the night. Are you excited?
You blow it tonight, and it's "keggers with kids" all next year.
So, what was the first week of spring vacation withdrawal like?
Hey kid, isn't the prom coming up?
I gotta motor if I want to be ready for that party tonight.
Are you gonna pull a super-chug with that?
If you're nice, I'll let you buy me a slushie.
I see you know your convenience-speak pretty well.
That thing you pulled in the caf today was pretty severe.
Yeah well, the extreme always seems to make an impression.
Did you say a cherry or coke slushie?
Is your life perfect?
I don't really like my friends.
Maybe it's time to take a vacation.
I want to kill, and you have to believe it's for more than just selfish reasons
So, when you go to college, what subjects do you think you'll study?
How's my little cheerleader, huh?
Come on, now look, I don't feel so good, okay?
Hey, let's do it on the coats, it'll be excellent, huh?
You know, I have a little prepared speech for my suitor when he wants more than I'm prepared to give him.
Save the speeches for Malcolm X.
You don't deserve my fucking speech.
I sound like a fucking psycho!
You stupid fuck!
You goddamn bitch!
You were nothing before you met me.
Lick it up, baby. Lick.. it.. up..!
Monday morning, you're history.
I'll tell everyone about tonight.
Dreadful etiquette, I apologise.
I saw the croquet set-up in the back. You up for a match?
Thank you, that was my first game of strip croquet.
I use my grand IQ to decide what colour gloss to wear, and how to hit three keggers before curfew.
I say we just grow up, be adults and die.
I'm a no-rust-build-up man, myself.
Don't be a dick.
I think last night we both said a lot of stuff we didn't mean.
How the hell didcha get in here?
What did you do, put a phlegm globber in it or something?
I'm not gonna drink that piss.
Grow up!
You think I'll drink it just because you call me chicken?
Just give me the cup, jerk.
I just killed my best friend.
What're we gonna tell the cops?
I can't believe this is my life.
I'm gonna have to send my SAT scores to San Quentin instead of Stanford.
At least you got whatcha wanted, y'know?
It is one thing to want somebody out of your life, it is another thing to serve them a wake-up cup full of liquid drainer.
We did a murder, and that's a crime
You might think what I've done is shocking -
People think that just because you're beautiful and popular, life is easy and fun.
I die knowing no-one knew the real me.
Have you done this before?
Keep things business as usual.
We must revel in this revealing moment.
You call me when the shuttle lands.
Where's your urge to purge?
Sorry to hear about your friend.
Let's talk emotions.
Are we going to be tested on this?
How many networks did you run to?
What're you talking about? You hated her, she hated you.
Gosh, pop, I almost forgot to introduce my girlfriend.
Goddamn will somebody tell me why I smoke these damn things?
I gotta motor if I want to be ready for that funeral.
Jesus, God in Heaven, why didcha kill such hot snatch?
Jeez, people are so serious.
Hi, I'm sorry.
I just want my high school to be a nice place.
Did that sound bitchy?
So, we on tonight, man, or what?
That pudwacker just stepped on my foot.
When I get that feeling, I need sexual healing.
Sorry, I'm feeling a little superior tonight.
Seven schools in seven states, and the only thing different is my locker combination.
Our love is God.
Let's go get a slushie.
The funeral yesterday must really have been rough, eh?
It's more tasteful than it sounds.
I left them drunk and flailing in cow shit.
No, don't shut up, I'd like to know exactly what I did.
Yeah, I didn't expect to be calling either, I just guess my emotions took over...
I was wondering if you wanted all those things you've been saying to really happen?
It's always been a fantasy of mine to have two guys at once.
Listen, my Bonnie and Clyde days are over.
Do you take German?
Tell me the similarity is not incredible.
The joy we shared in each others arms was greater than any touch down, yet we were forced to live the lives of sexist, beer guzzling jock assholes.
I mean, if you don't have a brewski in your hand you might as well be wearing a dress.
So, should I just whip it out, or...?
I was kind of hoping you could rip my clothes off me, sport?
Did you miss him completely?
Hey, I heard something out there, I'm checking it out.
Does this answer your question?
You believed it, because you wanted to believe it.
Your true feelings were to gross and icky for you to face.
I did not want them dead!
My teen angst bullshit has a body count.
Are we going to prom or to hell?
I've seen a lot of bullshit.
Is this as good for you as it is for me?
I need a copy of all this by Monday for my Princeton application.
It was chaos, fucking chaos.
Chaos is great!
Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling.
We scare people into not being assholes!
God, you can be so immature!
Hey, they're playing our song!
That's it! We're breaking up!
You can't bring them back, you must know that.
I am not trying to bring anybody back, except maybe myself.
And to think there was a time when I actually thought you were cool!
Blow up a couple of toasters or something.
Kind of scary though that everybody has got a little story to tell.
What is this? Blackmail?
I'll ask you to do me a favour, it'll be one you'll enjoy.
Don't you start getting cocky on me now.
Do you know I'm still a virgin?
Nice guys finish last. I should know.
Are you telling me this is not a time for troubled youth?
I don't patronise bunny rabbits!
I guess I picked the wrong time to be a human being.
You were out of control!
Hey babe, I need a name.
God has cursed me, I think.
What are you trying to do? Kill me?
That's about the least private thing I can think of.
If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?
If you're happy every day of your life, you wouldn't be a human being, you'd be a game show host.
What do you say we knock off early and buy some shoes or something lame like that?
People love me!
People love you, but I know you.
Some people need different kinds of convincing than others.
Don't talk to me like that, OK?
Jealous much?
Why are you such a mega bitch?
Want to go out tonight? Catch a movie, you know, some miniature golf?
I knew you'd be back... I knew it.
You were wrong, and I was right!
You've been depressed lately.
Get off of my bed, you fucking psycho!
Do you think you're a rebel? Do you actually think you're a rebel?
You're not a rebel, you're a fucking psychotic!
What do you think I'm gonna do with it? Take out their tonsils?
I've got a meaningful marked-up Moby Dick, what else does a suicide need?
Is this turning out weak, or what?
My afterlife is so boring.
If I have to sing Kumbaya one more time...
I loved you! Sure, I was coming up here to kill you...
Our burning bodies will be the ultimate protest to a society that degrades us.
Talk about your suicide pacts, eh?
What do they want, a written invitation?
Whether to kill yourself or not is the most important decisions a teenager can make.
Put your hands on your head.
Do you think that just because you started this thing you can end it?
I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you, I swear to God!
How do I turn off the goddamn bomb, asshole?
You want a clean slate as much as I do.
The only place where different social types genuinely can get along with each other is in heaven.
Do you know what I'd love, babe? Cool guys like you out of my life.
You've got power... Power I didn't think you had.
Now that you're dead, what are you gonna do with your life?
You look like hell!
My date for the prom kind of flaked out on me...
I was wondering, if you aren't doing anything, maybe we could rent some new releases? Pop some popcorn?
#heathers#heathers 1989#rp meme#sentence starters#ooc#long post#i tried to narrow it down but look#100 follower celebration
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Prologue Part 3
Beginning of Story Previous Chapter Next Chapter
[Night falls. Almost nobody can relax at a time like this. Even six years since the war began, it never gets any easier. Maybe tomorrow will be the last day of your life. Maybe next week. You thought you were done with this. You thought from now on you could live a quaint, domestic life with two kids and a dog. Then you remember that Paulla hates dogs.]
[On the other side of the wall, Lunero talks loudly in his sleep, as he often does.]
LUNERO: What do you mean people can't just eat cigarettes? You don't know my life story!
[You jot down what you've just heard. Nobody gives you greater creative inspiration than an unconscious wizard after one sip of his husband's gin & tonic.]
LUNERO: You know damn well what the pillowcase is for, stop pretending to play stupid!
[Ten feet away from Ester, Terys rolls over face-down into his pillow and groans quietly. From one bed over, Milenah gently pats him on the back.]
MILENAH: Stay strong. When we move out, you may not have to hear this every night.
[He flips over again to look up at her.]
TERYS: You're in high spirits.
MILENAH: Things are gonna change between the two of us from now on, my friend. I'm talking tit-for-tat. Synergy.
TERYS: ...Synergy? Is not synonymous with–
MILENAH: You make me your priority, I provide you with the ammo.
TERYS: That's a very loose and possibly inaccurate way to describe synergy. I... am too tired for this.
[Just as he shifts his whole body away from her, she grabs him by the shoulder.]
MILENAH: No you aren't! It's simple– buff me extra good, and I'll write you new tunes to try out. Look...
[She shoves a piece of manuscript paper in his face.]
TERYS: Did you rip this out of my book? This... this is only an upbeat and two measures. One of which might be incomplete.
MILENAH: So it's a work in progress, big deal. Just read it.
[Terys' eyes adjust to the dim light.]
MILENAH: This tune is intended to sharply increase our party's attack. Surging with confidence, it's as if our entire bodies are made of a star's burning energy. I call it... “All-Star.”
[The paper is shredded in two seconds flat.]
MILENAH: Gah!
TERYS: Sorry, I don't mean to be ungrateful for your effort. But the song has to be original for it to work as a spell. And this is, note-for-note, the first phrase of a song that already exists. I appreciate the sentiment, though.
MILENAH: There are only so many melodies we can generate throughout history before one of us commits accidental plagiarism...
TERYS: I know, Milenah.
MILENAH: So much for synergy!
TERYS: Laila tov, Milenah.
MILENAH: Don't you Laila Tov me! I need someone to vent to!
[It's too fucking late. He's already Laila Tov'd on her hard, and only Lunero yelling about shoelaces in the other room will wake him up.]
[The non-sequiturs mean nothing to Dael. He's been hearing them since he was fifteen. Given that he's thirty-six now, it's become somewhat akin to soft music. And like any responsible thirty-six-year-old with a daunting task the following morning, he will not rest until he kills that mid-level atrocity in the Cove once and for all. If he loses one more Bounty Hunter to her, he's going to hurl his laptop out the window (1).]
[Sarjane rests peacefully, feet against the wall. She dreams of her life as a once-carefree teen, attending fairs with her friends and staying over at their houses throwing popcorn at the screen because only the worst movies air late at night. “See you at school tomorrow,” they tell her when she leaves on Sunday morning.]
[But there is no school the next day. Not figuratively, not literally. Eleven teachers, arriving early to set up class, turned to ash. Smoke filling the entire province. Sarjane wishes she didn't live close enough to the school grounds to inhale it, but too far away to rescue the staff. And she could have rescued them.]
[But why her? Why did it all fall on the shoulders of a sixteen-year-old girl? Why couldn't the other students rise to her level? Why did her gift give her a greater responsibility? All these nights of choking, becoming short of breath in her sleep, reimagining the aftermath of the flames... why did it have to be her? Why her?!]
[Sarjane jolts awake, a single bead of sweat rolling down her face. Not wanting to be alone with her own thoughts, she scans the room for Wyntram, only to see an empty bed. Instead he's out on the patio, sharing a single cigarette with Paulla.]
PAULLA: You're only mooching off of me because you don't have your own.
WYNTRAM: Well yeah, not anymore, not for years. But I can't shake off this feeling of impending doom. It's been psyching me out so badly, I can't even sleep like I was hoping to.
PAULLA: Really, now? Who convinced who to set out to the RM?
WYNTRAM: I know, shut up. But it's better to go than to stay.
PAULLA: I think we're safer here.
WYNTRAM: I don't care what you think. You already agreed to go.
[She exhales a cloud of smoke through her nostrils, leaning further over the banister.]
PAULLA: How do you even describe “impending doom” as a feeling?
WYNTRAM: It's kind of like... when you feel guilty about something, but you have no idea what you've done to feel that way. It's as if someone kicked me in the balls and told me I should be ashamed of myself, then walked away without telling me why.
PAULLA: Huh.
WYNTRAM: Huh.
[He takes the remaining butt from her and flicks it into the distance.]
PAULLA: I've felt it before.
WYNTRAM: Yeah?
PAULLA: When you've never lived lived by a human's code of ethics, you can't really understand why an entire village is trying to hunt you down. To them, you've committed unspeakable crimes, but to you, you're just... trying to feed yourself in the only way you know how.
WYNTRAM: Have you ever held a job before the war? And, uh... the punishment?
PAULLA: The 2500s were a different time to have horns sprouting out of your head. What do you think? Everyone keeps saying everything got worse over the years, but I don't see it. They're all nostalgic for a society just as fucked as their own, if not more.
WYNTRAM: That's fair.
PAULLA: I guess what I'm trying to say is, you'll get over that feeling of impending doom eventually and go back to living a normal life, even if it takes 500 years for someone to break the curse.
WYNTRAM: That's... oddly comforting.
PAULLA: Really? I was just talking out of my ass, but if you got something from it, I'm glad.
WYNTRAM: You going back inside?
PAULLA: If I don't, Ester's going to think I'm dead. You should probably do the same.
[Back in your room, you watch Paulla stride through the door and brace yourself for when she inevitably jumps into your lap, which she does]
PAULLA: Miss me?
ESTER: I thought you were dead.
PAULLA: Hhhh!
[She knows you're kidding, but it's still fun to say.]
ESTER: Paulla...
PAULLA: Yeah?
ESTER: It's been a really long time since we've been back at the RM, and we don't know how much has changed. So if anything happens to us that we're not prepared for... I think it's time.
[She gasps.]
PAULLA: No way.
ESTER: That's right. I'm going to show you one of my comics.
PAULLA: Oh my god, is that me? Is that supposed to be me? I love it, by the way.
ESTER: Thanks, and yes, that's clearly you.
PAULLA: Why am I a goat?
ESTER: You know what they say, you are what you eat.
PAULLA: Hmm.
[She appears deep in thought.]
PAULLA: Should've drawn me as ass, then.
[Her final comment makes you lie awake for the remainder of the night.]
(1) Said “mid-level atrocity in the Cove” is the Alluring Siren boss from the 2015 RPG Darkest Dungeon. The Bounty Hunter is one of the game's hero classes.
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Season 2 Episode 7: Red Rover, Red Rover, Let Barbara Come Over (and other stories)
WAIT, there was metal-melting acid in those Science Grenades? Bloody hell, I'm surprised any of the rebels came out of that battle without major chemical burns. Why were none of them wearing masks while they were running about in all that smoking acid? And Babs was about to lob one at Ian last week! Relief ensues, and David says they should leave the Doctor hiding while they try to find a way out of London via the sewers (seeing as the Daleks will think this area is in flames and won’t come a-calling). Susan doesn’t like the idea of leaving him (oh the irony) but David shakes her until she agrees with him. What a promising start to a relationship. Back at the transport museum, Babs and Jenny are pumping up the tyres of an enormous truck (all the motorcars are, inconveniently, on the upper floors). They talk about engines for a bit and how the noise of it starting up will probably bring the Daleks down on them; Babs says it’s a risk they have to take; Jenny is like, well DUH. I love watching these two trying to out-grit each other. They both realise they won’t get far, but Babs is still desperately clinging to this veneer of polite but terse not-really-optimism. There’s a poignant moment when Jenny asks Babs whether she knows the route to Bedfordshire, and Babs admits she used to…er…that is, she’s definitely not a time traveller, she just used to live there, and we’re (is that the Royal We, Babs?) not sure how much damage the Daleks have done; Jenny tells her grimly to wait and see what they have in fact done to Bedfordshire.
Also I love the idea that in the twenty-second century they keep heavy goods vehicles from the 1960s in working order so they can drive them in parades. I want this to be a thing. Pass this down the generations so this will be a thing. Meanwhile, Ian and the ever-cheerful Larry have arrived at the Dalek mines. There are chain gangs of humans pulling huge carts down into the mines in an uncomfortably long sequence, and then Ian spots some stock footage of cable cars. Before they can get out of the open, they bump into a guy called Wells, who hastily gives them some pick-axes for the purposes of conning the Roboman who comes around the corner. They’re assigned to a work detail, and the guy is whacked with a stick. When Ian and Larry run to help, the Roboman tells them not to resist orders. Ian is just about done and hurls some sass his way: GET NEW ORDERS. The Roboman is, apparently, flabbergasted, and they duck inside. The Robomen must have one hell of a psychological impact because physically they’re pretty useless: it takes him an age to follow them, by which time they’re all set up for Ian to kosh him when he comes through the door. Which he does. Wells tells them to blend in with a work party, and tells them he’s meeting a black marketer called Ashton. Ian wants to meet him, too, so he can get out of London, seeing as he has friends there. Wells tells him the Daleks destroyed it; Ian dusts off his ‘oh shit’ face from The Reign of Terror. Back at the transport museum, Babs and Jenny are getting ready to bounce, and Babs has remembered to pack Dortmun’s notes. Then this happens:
JENNY: Why did he do it? BARBARA: Oh, many reasons. Mainly because he wouldn't give in. JENNY: What's the point of that? He just threw his life away. It was so senseless. BARBARA: It depends on how you look at it. JENNY: You've got this romantic idea about resistance. There is nothing heroic about dying. There's no point in throwing lives away just to prove a principle. BARBARA: If Dortmun hadn't thrown his life away, we would all be dead. He knew exactly what he was doing. He sacrificed himself so that you and I would have a chance. Come on, we're ready to go.
Well, isn’t that a fascinating little exchange? It’s not surprising that this is a sore spot with Barbara, who was willing to keep quiet about the fact she was dying all the way through Planet of Giants initially for no discernible reason but latterly (in, as I say, the unmangled and less stupid version) because she found herself at the sticky end of a ‘save the girl or save the world’ scenario. And again in a Terry Nation script we’re seeing this alarming readiness on Barbara’s part to embrace death to prove a principle (I will never stop bringing up the time she was willing to die on Skaro rather than leave Ian stuck in some Dalek casing). It’s also an illuminating insight into Jenny’s character: she may be a hardened survivor and a valuable member of the resistance, but she’s lost too many people to find the idea of resistance romantic (which Babs, as we know from The Reign of Terror, absolutely does). But hurrah for two women having a meaty conversation, in which we’re faced with the question of the extent to which, as the Doctor puts it, ‘our lives are important’. Babs gets the engine going (PLEASE tell me she drives the school bus on school trips) and they’re off.
Also, I love that there's an entire sequence leading up to Jenny hopping into the truck which is done with Dortmun's corpse very prominently in the foreground. Particularly the little beat where Jenny hesitates before running to open the doors because she's staring at Dortmun. It's amazing what you can do when you've got, y'know, enough space to actually compose a shot like that. I will never be over how much the location filming makes this serial. Meanwhile, in the sewers, Susan observes that it smells like an old goat farm. David, do you not know Gallifreyans are allergic to squalor? They find a cartridge, which Susan assumes means the presence of friends (seeing as Daleks don’t use guns). There’s some excellent cut dialogue from David (thanks, Infotext!):
‘The world you have come into is one where friendships mean very little. There’s been no place for sentiment in our society. Just staying alive is the most anybody has time for.’
Well that’s fucking heartbreaking. And certainly explains Jenny. But hey, they cut it, so our loss. At any rate, we get the sense that there are humans who will kill each other for food—as Susan puts it, survival at all costs. BUT OH NO MORE LOVELY CUT DIALOGUE (this time from Susan):
‘The four of us faced dangers together, and it seemed to give us a greater understanding of one another’.
I keep forgetting that Terry Nation is the writer who brought us lines like ‘fear makes companions of all of us’, so I shouldn’t be surprised, but oh why did they cut this? Why? Also, we’re about to find out why this human-on-human violence in a broken, post-apocalyptic society thing has reared its ugly head, because—SCREECH TIME! Susan’s spotted a gun being pointed at them. We return to Babs and Jenny, trucking away like bosses. Jenny seems to be deferring to Babs a bit more, which is cool, and Babs reckons they’ll probably have to ditch the truck at any moment, seeing as how they Daleks will have heard them back there. AND THEN THERE IS A DALEK ROAD BLOCK. AND BARBARA—MILD-MANNERED BADASS BARBARA—DECIDES TO GO STRAIGHT THROUGH THEM.
Jenny’s delight is second only to my own, as she positively giggles with glee; Babs, ever the master of the understatement, admits that was rather good. I’m not even going to gripe about the fact that they could definitely have exterminated her through the windscreen, for nothing will convince me that this moment is anything other than perfect. Then again why are we surprised that Babs would drive a truck through the Daleks? She has taken on Daleks with mud and some rocks and lived to tell the tale before now, and her continued revenge must be pretty sweet given that they gave her the fright of her life on Skaro. BRAVA, BABS. Back aboard the Dalek saucer, the Daleks are ordering the destruction of ‘the rebel vehicle’…which means Babs and Jenny! Cripes! On the road, Babs asks Jenny what ‘that noise’ is, and lo and behold it’s a Dalek saucer right overhead. The two of them jump for it…and the truck explodes! Blimey, did they get out of the way in time? Back in the sewers, it seems the gun-wielding humans are friendly, because Susan is babbling happily about something being jolly lucky. And jolly lucky is exactly what they are, for the mystery man is Tyler! I’ve missed you, old chum. He has exactly the kind of grim, trustworthy face you need to tell the audience about alligators in the sewers. Which apparently there are, due to escaped zoo animals and that. Susan asks Tyler whether he’s seen Ian and Barbara, and he answers ‘I’m sorry, no’, before moving on ahead. Piqued, Susan asks David why he’s so abrupt, and David tells her Tyler is afraid to make friends because he’s known too much killing. Then this happens:
SUSAN: Well, I hope I'm never like that, pretending not to care. DAVID: Bah. One day this will be all over. It'll mean a new start. SUSAN: A new start? Rebuilding a planet from the very beginning. It's a wonderful idea. DAVID: You could always help. SUSAN: Yes.
Susan, you couldn’t not care if you tried. Also, I’ve just realised how much of a parallel this is to the end of The Daleks, where the Doctor is tempted to stay and help the Thals rebuild their civilisation. Like grandfather, like granddaughter, I suppose. (Also, there’s some Gone With The Wind style cut dialogue where David tells Susan he’s going to be a farmer because the land is all that matters and the world’s saturated with Science. Does this make Susan Scarlett O’Hara? And more importantly, will Sciency telepath Susan be happy as a farmer’s wife? I worry.)
Elsewhere, it transpires Babs and Jenny are indeed safe, and that Jenny is considerably friendlier towards Babs now that she has witnessed her full magnificence. Not unkindly, she poses Babs a thorny question:
JENNY: Barbara, suppose we don't find your friends at the mine? BARBARA: I'll think about that when we get there. Look, you don't have to stay with me if you don't want to. I can get there on my own. JENNY: We might as well stay together. BARBARA: All right, come on then.
Did I say Susan was Scarlett? Babs is doing a classic ‘I’ll think about that tomorrow’. Also, Jenny’s feigned reluctance is a joy. As J.K. Rowling almost said, there are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out an entire Dalek patrol with a truck is one of them. Back at the mine, some manner of terribly-realised creature is lurking in the background. Spooked by the sound of it, Ian and Larry hurry back indoors and are met with the business end of a pistol. Crumbs. It’s Ashton, who tells them to GTFO, but Ian guesses who he is and strikes up a conversation. Outside, the Slyther (for this is what the creature is) makes a noise like one of those thingummies you turn upside down and it makes a noise almost but not quite entirely unlike a sheep. Ian says he wants to go to London, but Ashton wants cash…ton. (Sorry.) Ian and Ashton are properly squaring up (because Ian thinks his friends are dead again and all good humour has gone from his face) when Wells comes in and defuses the situation. Wells gives him a shiny thing, and Ashton gives him some food. Wells mentions the Slyther again, and when Ian asks what the Slyther is, Ashton asks whether he’s come from fairyland. Homophobe. Wells explains that the Slyther is a creature the Black Dalek regards as some manner of pet, and it goes around eating people at night. Which explains…not a lot. And oh sweet Jesus that sound effect is teeeeeeerrible. I kind of want it as a text alert. Meanwhile, in the sewers, Susan is yelling for Tyler, who is nowhere to be seen. She and David try a nearby ladder, and head into the tunnel leading off it. Susan climbs down another ladder into another part of the sewer, but it comes away from the side of the wall so she can dangle, imperilled, as AN ALLIGATOR waits below to devour her.
Actually, that alligator is pretty cute. In the nick of time, Tyler appears to shoot it and David grabs the ladder. David makes a joke about Susan giving the alligator indigestion (‘thank YOU,’ quoth Susan), and they all go up to the surface and back to the Doctor.
Back at the mines, Ashton is telling Wells what an idiot he is for spending his shinies on food instead of safe passage out of dodge. They’re all eating happily, when OH CRIKEY CRIPES the Slyther breaks in and extends a gammy hand towards Ashton! He shoots at the Slyther but to no avail. Will the other three save him? They…will not. They peg it out of the room, and Larry and Ian find themselves faced with a sheer drop. They have to go back! But OH NO! What do they run into but…THE SLYTHER! TRY PARSELTONGUE, IAN!
Oh god that gammy hand wibbling about is too much. WILL THE SLYTHER EMBARRASS THEM TO DEATH WITH ITS SHITNESS? WILL THE DOCTOR BE BACK NEXT WEEK ONCE BILLY HAS GIVEN HIS BACK A REST? WILL SUSAN GET SOME MORE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT BEFORE HER DEPARTURE? WILL BABS AND JENNY START A NEW LIFE TOGETHER BEING ITINERANT BAMFS, OR WILL EVERYONE YET BE REUNITED? Summary (as applicable to this episode)
Does it pass the Bechdel test? With flying colours. Is the gaze problematic? Nope. Is/are the woman companion(s) dressed 'for the Dads'? Nope. Save the girl or save the world? Whose decision is it? N/A. Does a woman fall over/twist her ankle (whilst running from peril)? Nope. But Susan does end up almost being alligator food when the ladder gives way as she attempts to descend it. Does a woman wander off alone for the sole dramatic purpose of getting into trouble so she can be rescued later? Nope. Is/are the woman companion(s) captured? Nope. Does the Doctor/a man companion/any other man have to rescue the woman companion(s) from peril? Yup. Susan needs rescuing from her ladder predicament. Is a woman placed under threat of actual bodily harm? Alligators? Does a woman have to deal with a sexual predator? Nope. Is/are the woman companion's/s' first/only reaction(s) to peril gratuitous screaming? Susan. Does a woman faint at the sight of peril/horror or generally lose consciousness (discounting normal sleep)? Nope. Does a woman companion go into hysterics over something reasonably minor? Nope, though David treats Susan like an hysteric when she won't leave the Doctor behind.
Is a woman 'spared' the ordeal of having to do/witness something unpleasant by a man who makes a decision on her behalf/keeps her deliberately ignorant? Nope. Does a woman suffer in silence (to further the plot)? Nope. Does a man automatically disbelieve or belittle something a woman (companion) says happened to her? No. Does a man talk over a woman or talk about a woman as though she isn't there? No.
Does the woman companion have to be calmed/comforted by the Doctor/a man companion/a man? Yup. Susan.
Is a woman the first/only person to be (most gratuitously) menaced by the episode's antagonist(s)? Erm, I'd say Susan is the first to be imperilled by that alligator, but Ian and Larry are about to be Slyther fodder. Babs and Susan do get a Dalek patrol and a saucer sent after them, but they deal with it.
Is a man shamed into doing/not doing something because the alternative is a woman doing/not doing something? No.
Does the woman companion come up with a plan? Not many plans this week, just survival.
Does the woman companion do something stupid/banal/weird which inspires a man to be a Man with a Plan? No.
Does a woman come up with a theory and is it ridiculed by the Doctor/a man? No.
Does a woman call the Doctor out on his bullshit? N/A as he's out for the count.
Does a woman get to be a badass? AND. HOW.
Is the young, strong, straight, white male lead the person most often in control of the situation? In the Susan subplot (and obviously the Ian subplot) yes, but elsewhere certainly not.
Is there past/future/alien sexism? Not massively, but David does talk down to Susan a LOT.
Does a 'present'-day character call anybody out on past/future/alien sexism? Nope. Does an past/future/alien person have the hots for a woman companion and is it reciprocated? David and Susan have definite sexual tension.
Did a woman write/direct/produce this episode? No/No/Yes.
Verdict In short, a romp. Babs and Jenny are the highlight, Susan alas gets relegated to the status of shrieking D.I.D. (but with a couple of promising moments where the idea of rebuilding a planet from scratch seems to fire her imagination), the Doctor is M.I.A., and Ian alas (again) has gone back into humourless action man mode. You could argue that this is because he once again believes the Space Fam is no more, but equally give him some character development please. The truck-smashing scene is the obvious winner, but close behind are those scenes in which Babs and Jenny actually get some reasonable meaty dialogue and a friendship is forged. Particularly illuminating stuff on attitudes towards death and sacrifice, too. (And I’m enjoying that both the serials of this season have devoted a fair amount of time to putting the regulars in a position where they’re being forced to consider what they will make of their lives if they end up alone in this time/place. Which is particularly poignant for Susan, who is about to have this question forced upon her.) In short, more of these two doing everything, please, and more of these meatier scenes with uncomfortable questions. And please can we never see the Slyther again. Like, ever. (Oh, and special mention for the cut dialogue but also for the scenes in which we get a little more world-building and a wonderfully grim outlook on the human race where we meet some humans who neither value human life nor subscribe to any ideals but have found a thoroughly nasty way to profit from a planet’s misery.) Next week, er…betrayals? It think we’re headed for the collaborators, if memory serves. Bring it on.
#Doctor Who#Classic Who#The Dalek Invasion of Earth#The End of Tomorrow#TV Recaps#Blog#William Hartnell#One#First Doctor#Barbara Wright#Barbara#Babs#Bamf#Bamfbara#Jacqueline Hill#Jenny#Ann Davies#Jenny and Babs (should have their own show)#Susan Foreman#Susan#Carole Ann Ford#Ian#Ian Chesterton#William Russell#Slyther#Daleks#BBC#Sci-Fi#Feminism#Whovian Feminism
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today i allowed myself to take a good hard look at the rows of photos i have buried at the bottom of my feed and i made sure to focus my eyes, not let them blur and glaze over his face. i really looked at him. i looked at the way the light hit the cheekbones i really loved, i looked at the curve of his eyelids, i looked at the hint of ribcage beneath his tshirt. i think i had to, because seeing how mj is avoiding-but-not-avoiding her ex is making me understand that avoiding is not the way to go. her heartbreak is fresh, not even a month, but in many ways i am still behaving like her. i don’t listen to good advice and i avoid and avoid the source of pain. i think that by locking up and burying photos of him that i took when i was in love, i can grow out of it. but of course i am wrong, again, as usual, because even now when i stare at his face in the photos, knowing full well that i can never see this again in real life (he might as well be dead and cremated) i feel an ache. a real ache, not a metaphorical one. my chest literally twinges inside as if something’s twisting. and it gets hard to breathe. meanwhile all i can think about is how much i like what i am seeing and how sad it makes me to never reach it again. what is wrong with me though like seriously is this an imprint? did i grow some kind of dysfunctional neural pathway in the short time i was with him? it’s like programming i cannot change, what the fuck. at this rate, i wish i could turn blind so i will never have to see his face again or feel tempted to look at photos. but that’s silly, bc i need my eyes to earn a living. so i guess the next best thing would be to wish he really was dead so i can cry at his urn at the crematorium every week until i have properly mourned and can move on. i feel like a zombie. or maybe he is the zombie, neither here in my present reality nor there in a past that can be said to no longer exist. or maybe my heart is the zombie. or maybe my feelings for him is the zombie. aiya this is a difficult metaphor to wrap my head around. bottomline is, i’m pretty sure i still love him. i’d go back to him in a heartbeat. but he’s gone. dead, figuratively. i dont think i am living in the past because i am really making an effort to be here in the present and be here for all my friends who need me sometimes. but i have brought my feelings with me. they’re not “past feelings” they are PRESENT FEELINGS. right here and right now i still have living feelings. for a dead person. so what does that make me? stupid?? probably. maybe i should enforce a rule whereby i make myself stare at photos of him until the pain subsides. like cutting yourself until the nerves in your skin are so damaged and scarred over you no longer feel pain. i don’t know how long i can distract myself by going along with everyone else’s pace and physically doing the things to “move on” when in reality thinking about him still makes my nose sting and my eyes water. but he doesnt exist!!!!!! he cannot. so much time had elapsed it is so unlikely he has remained the same. employment, politics, interactions with others, maybe even new lovers must have reshaped him somehow. the person i love is probably not there anymore, or he’s been melted down and recast into a different form that i will not recognise.
i wish he wanted to meet me, and cared to see what kind of person i have become after all this. i miss him every single day. i still think about him every single night. sometimes i catch myself about to say his name and i have to close my throat before i utter and commit the atrocious act. i don’t dare find his socials because i’m terrified of what i might see. im afraid i’ll go to the cinema with mj next week, 2 heartbroken girls, and run into him holding hands with a woman i don’t recognise. i dont know how i’ll handle that. i may fling myself over the bannister of the spiral staircase and end my miserable existence on the spot. maybe i’ll take out a knife and slit my wrists on the spot so i can bleed to death with my eyes fixed on him and leave earth looking at the person i love most. on some level i do hope he has found happiness and is capable of making someone happy in a sustainable way that doesn’t put a strain on his career too much, but a big part of me still wishes i could be that person. it’s so pathetic to admit that i still wish and wish and wish i could be the recipient of his love. isn’t it so stupid to pine for treatment i won’t receive? why cant i be happy with someone else giving me double? a serious question. why does it have to be him? if only i could email god to ask.
if i do reach my deadline without being able to find happiness elsewhere and i do fling myself off some building or another, i dont think i’d like to be a ghost haunting and cursing him for all eternity anymore. i much rather there be no afterlife. no women living in banana trees. no vengeance, no reincarnation, nothing. i just want to stop existing and stop being conscious or anything. i want to disintegrate and take all my hurt and futile desire with me. no more boundaries no more self no more singularity. it would be so blissful to just dissolve and leave the fabric of existence and no longer think of him because there will no longer be a “him” because there will no longer be a “me” who “thinks.”
i wonder if he thinks of me still. i wonder what he thinks of, of him in relation to me, of me in relation to him, of me like this, of the suffering he MUST know he has caused. i dont think ive been the same person since october. it’s not like a simple apology can patch up a hole. i forgive, but the wound doesnt disappear with forgiveness. i forgive the stake in the heart because at my core i love love love love him, but the stake is still lodged in there. and i can’t die. not yet, at least. i dont think he knows the extent of the damage done. i still have nightmares every single night. i can’t remember the last time i had a good dream. i consider myself lucky when i wake up and immediately forget 95% of my bad dreams. i am so busy everyday but when im asleep i can’t manifest happiness. it’s all violence, and hatred, and meeting spectres from my past, and decay and weeping and pain. sometimes i feel the pain in my body itself. phantom and ungrounded but pain demands to be felt. i can’t just Wish it away.
i no longer believe in the possibility of miracles. but i still believe in a divine plan. if i am still unable to kill my love for him, there must be a reason. a good reason. maybe my ache makes me the friend my friends need when they get dumped. maybe i will be led by my pain to decide to join some event or cause, even if as a means of distracting myself, and end up meeting someone who really needs my support and friendship. maybe i can contribute to society in a way that i wouldnt be able to if i were perfectly happy. i like to believe that there is a purpose behind everything, even failure. and im not naive enough to think that the reason god has allowed to me suffer is because he will bring deliverance and turn a stone-cold heart back towards me. life isn’t a storybook. he won’t come back, and he won’t love me again. it’s fine. it’s fine if my continued misery could serve a greater purpose SOMEHOW. let me save one person. let me have the wells of empathy needed to say the right thing at the right time and improve someone else’s life. i cannot live like this with just myself and no contribution to the nett happiness of the world.
i did a tarot card reading for SH today, she visited my cats and we had lunch and talked about books. despite what happened at the start of the year ive found it in my heart to forgive and reconcile and take the first step in repairing our friendship. ive readjusted my expectations so i wont feel betrayed or letdown again in the future. and i recognise that she needs me more than i need her, which is a good enough reason to stay. pride is stupid. i decided years ago that i will not let pride get in the way. even if he thought i was pathetic. i dont care. love IS pathetic. my only regret was running away from him that day because i didnt want him to see me cry again. not because of pride but because i didn’t want to burden him even more. he would have been late for dance if i had allowed myself to stand there and cry. but maybe i should have. so now i will just put myself out there and move past friendship-level hurts. the reading was eerily accurate, even down to her sun sign. and extremely extremely apt for her because she’s starting uni soon and everything on the cards aligned. she jokingly said i was a witch. i only wish i was a real one so i can do Something, Anything.
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Basic Bro | “Thanks for sucking my dick”
dates: 🍦🍦🍦🍦 sex: 🍦🍦 awkward diabetes moment? no (date rating guide here)
choice quote: “How would you rate my dick on a scale of one to five? You know, like a Yelp review.”
~SCROLL DOWN FOR DICK DEETS~ This is just slightly embarrassing to admit, though it shouldn’t be: I’ve never dated or hooked up with anyone I’ve gone to school with. Well, hadn’t ever. The convergence of fatness, depression, awkwardness, shyness, low self-esteem, ssri-induced lack of libido, and diabetes-induced lethargy basically assured that. But now I’m finally back in school, and with weight loss and a dye job, society has finally deemed me attractive and desirable. Super fucked up, right? Alas, here we are. I’d had a crush on Basic Bro since the first day of class. He wore a rad silk bomber jacket (so on-trend!) and spoke up often with a uniquely cool bravado. He seemed smart, engaged, and like he really cared about school - basically, everything you want in a classmate, and also a good deal of what turns me on. One day, I ended up sitting next to him, and he struck up a conversation. The classroom was hot that day, or maybe it was just me. I was only wearing a light flannel, but I was sweating tiny bullets and could feel my face reddening while I prayed that my light layer of makeup could adequately cover the intensifying physiological signs of a developing crush. He spoke smoothly and confidently, and we had one of those oh-so-satisfying whispered conversations, the kind that make you feel like you’re in your own little world, the kind woven with climactic tension. The tension isn’t sexual, and it’s hardly even flirtatious, but it’s enough to leave you smiling and wondering for the rest of the day. “Do you understand what she’s saying?” “Yeah, I think she’s talking about Freudian psychoanalysis.” “Damn, you’re smart, huh?” “Hah! Hardly.” He asked for my number, “Just in case I need to know about, like, class stuff. ‘Cause you seem like you take really good notes.” And indeed, I was left wondering. He did eventually text me, but just about class. But that evolved to larger conversations about school, and then, at his behest, just plain conversation. Yeah... I started to get the sense he might be into me. Of course, I was into him, too, but one of my biggest hesitations was our age difference. I just turned 24, and he’s 20. Or, as he phrased it, “I turn 21 in December.” With younger guys, of course, there’s a greater risk of immaturity, but I didn’t want to make any assumptions. What really held me back was my own shame. I’m a textbook late bloomer, always feeling a bit behind in life, and dating someone younger would feel like proof of that. I’ve internalized the message that women who date younger men are desperate, losers. For what it’s worth, I also judge men who date younger women. I generally follow the half-your-age-plus-seven rule, which tells me that 19 is my lower limit, but that still feels way too young. I decided to proceed with caution and told myself that barring some amazing display of maturity and compatibility on his part, this would just be a hookup. I kept talking to him, but I also kept Tindering in hopes of finding an actual relationship (I know, I know!) Unfortunately, Basic Bro did start to show signs of immaturity. He skips class often - he’s probably only been to half of them, and it’s a once a week class. Then, when I invited him to a study session, he stopped responding to my texts and only got in touch the next day to tell me he’d accidentally slept most of the day. But then, he asked me out... kind of? “hey would you like to hang out sometime? maybe we could study more, or not” I’d figured out by this point that this kid has the mentality of a high schooler. But my crush hadn’t fully faded, and it was high time to hang out with someone I’d met in real life, rather than on a dating app. So I did. DATE 1 He flaked on our first meeting (no surprise there), but we finally met up for pizza last week. Since he almost never comes to class, and since I have a class right after ours, I hadn’t actually talked to him much in person, most of our contact was over text. When he showed up, it was supremely awkward. He didn’t have much to say, so I had to put on my bubbly face and force-feed him conversation. I had to wonder if he was just like this, or if he was nervous because of me. I was pretty positive he was into me, but I wasn’t actually sure whether this was a date. He did pay for the pizza, though, and was awkwardly chivalrous in constantly refilling my water. I guess that’s a sign. When we were done, I asked, “So what do you want to do now?” “Uh, we could walk around and talk, sit on a bench and talk, sit on the grass and talk...” Another sign. We did all three, walking around the local college campus and chatting. We mostly talked about basic things - school, family, interests, life goals. I quickly learned that he’s not the guy I initially saw him as. I don’t know how to put this tactfully, but he’s... simple. I don’t want to call him stupid, but he was very basic in a way I didn’t quite expect. Hence Basic Bro. But that, in a way, emboldened me. My inhibitions were lowered and I was able to be more honest with him since I wasn’t concerned about making a perfect impression or proving myself in any way. We’d spent about 3 hours together and my denim shirt was becoming inadequate for the evening cold. I told him this in hopes he’d put his arm around me, but he didn’t, and it was actually really fucking cold, so I invited him back to my apartment so I could grab a sweater. Of course, I wouldn’t mind if we didn’t go back outside, either... As it turned out, his phone was dead, so I let him charge it, and we just stayed inside. He seemed to be in no hurry to leave, but he didn’t make a move, either. I could have been more forward, but my self-doubt got the better of me. Our time involved a lot of, “So, what do you want to do now?” and I hoped that sitting next to each other on my bed would lead to something, but we just listened to records and played a very ineffective two-person game of Cards Against Humanity. He eventually left, late at night, having done nothing. I was okay with that, though - I think it’s important for me to not give into my impulses and actually get to know people before sleeping with them. I knew I’d see him the next day, anyway. DATE 2 It was 4/20, my favorite tacky holiday and also the day of our midterm. Our class runs from 1:30-4:20, and unfortunately our professor didn’t let us go after the test and lectured right up until the end. I caught up with Basic Bro after class as he was headed to the train, asking if he had 4/20 plans. He said he was probably just going to work on homework, and I said I was going to check out the campus celebration, just on my own. “Hey, actually, do you wanna like, get food or something?” I said sure, or we could smoke and then get food. We headed to the big lawn where everyone was getting high, there was free cotton candy and Krispy Kreme, and Basic Bro and I smoked and had an edible. While we were there, The Korean spotted me and called out my name. He was on a balcony and I was down below, so I didn’t have to see him up close, thank god. Honestly, and this is so rude, but his face repulses me now. I just waved back, “Hey!!” Basic Bro asked, “Who’s that?” “Oh, just a friend I used to work with.” “Are you gonna go say hi?” “Uhhh, haha, I already did, didn’t I?” Since I’m a petty bitch, I hope he was jealous when he saw me looking hot with my strappy bra and cute tacky weed shirt, hanging out with a more attractive guy. I can’t say for sure he felt that way, but he did start watching all my snapchat stories... Basic Bro took me to his favorite Thai place and we scarfed down some larb and pad see ew. Then we went to a bookstore/record shop where he bought some vinyl to christen his new turntable. We picked out some cheap records just based on their covers, including one with a woman riding a horse naked. Prime material for sexual jokes, right? I said, “Oh my god, I have to know what this sounds like,” and he said, “Oh yeah, of course you can listen.” The implication there is that we’d go back to my apartment again, so we did. And once again, it took a million years for him to make a move. We listened to record after record (he bought like 4), watched 3 episodes of The Office, and then, as we lay next to each other, he said, “Hey, can I ask you something? Sorry, this is kind of awkward. Do you like... like me?” What can I even say to that? I’m not interested in dating him and I don’t want him to get that impression. I just said, “Well, what do you think we’re doing here right now?” “Lying next to each other?” “Yeah.” “So what does that mean? Yes?” “Uh... yeah... Can I ask the same of you?” “Uh... yeah...” FINALLY. TIME TO GET DICKED DOWN! We made out and grinded against each other and it was so, so hot. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been deprived, and my last sexual experience was so disappointing, but this shit was amazing. Before we went any further, he told me that he and his girlfriend broke up a few weeks ago, but that he still sees and talks to her. I told him I didn’t care, but I wanted him to take the lead and only do what he’s comfortable with, because I don’t know what the situation is like. He was still pretty passive, though, and I had to be more dominant and directive, which is always annoying. I went down on him and honestly, daaaamn @ that dick. damn. Not huge but probably my ideal size, and thick, too. But because of this, I had trouble with the blowjob, and like so many guys do, he jumped to the face-fucking. He did check in with me throughout about consent, but I had to stop several times because it was getting overwhelming. Then he pulled another super fucking porn-y move and slapped his dick against my face. Maybe I’ve been too socialized to accept this shit, and I probably need to critically examine my place in the world as a sexually active woman, but I didn’t really mind it, at least in terms of sensation. If that’s what he likes, then whatever. I minded much more that it was a porn move, and I bet he doesn’t actually like it that much, he’s probably just emulating what he sees in videos. It’s funny, because in class that day, I saw him reading an article about this very topic - the myths about sex that young people learn from porn. I was getting sick of sucking his dick and wanted to move on to actual sex, but he couldn’t keep it up. I wasted three condoms on him! In all the time we spent together, he kept talking about his struggle to not be seen as a fuckboy, but then he suggested doing it without protection, saying “my ex had an IUD, we were fine” and “if you’ve only slept with a few people you trust, and they haven’t slept with many other people, I don’t see the issue.” Classic fuckboy move. I felt like his mother giving him a lecture about STDs, and how HPV doesn’t show symptoms in men, and why is he so confident that I’m clean, doesn’t he care about himself? Throughout, I could only think: “This fucking high schooler.” So we gave up, turned the lights on, and the first thing out of his dopey mouth is: “Uhhh, thanks for sucking my dick.” “Uh. Yeah. Sure.” And then: “So do girls actually like sucking dick?” This was reminiscent of a question he asked earlier, at lunch. “So, what do chicks, like, talk about?” Memories of all the bawdy, naive, insecure, cocky boys from my high school days came flowing back, making me feel all the dirtier for having hooked up with Basic Bro. I didn’t really know what to say, I mean, what kind of question is that? I just told him, “Uh, I like that the other person enjoys it, that’s what I get out of it. Maybe some people like it, but if most girls actually did, you’d probably see more people deepthroating cucumbers in their spare time.” And as if two incredibly awkward post-sex utterances weren’t enough, he went for a third. Yeah, the one before the cut. “How would you rate my dick on a scale of one to five? You know, like a Yelp review.” He’s probably now in competition with the Bolivian for weirdest things said right after hooking up. Now feeling way too old and done with this shit, I just said, “What the fuck? That’s such a fucking awkward question.” He said, “I know, I know, you don’t have to answer.” At least I had a cop-out: “I mean, I didn’t really experience the full extent of it, so I can’t tell you.” Well... It can only go uphill from here, right?
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