#even if this one seems like a non-terrible outcome for grant | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Heart - CH 12

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow @primusk @itswormtrain @hesbuckcompton-baby If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 5k (another doozy but omg a lot has to happen okay? they have to talk, Dick has to be a simp, it’s important to the plot)

A/N: Thank you again to @mercurygray for being a wonderful beta reader, as always <3

Warning(s): Descriptions of an assault

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Chapter 12 here we go!!

A warm spring began in Germany, welcoming the American invaders with its beautiful scenery and pleasant weather. Melanie wondered how people who lived in such a lovely place could have begun a war that was so terrible. The regiment came to a long stop in a town called Sturzelberg, where there was a hospital, and Melanie finally felt like a regular nurse again. She even got to change out of her OD’s and into her nursing uniform dress. It was wrinkled from the journey in her bag, rolled up at the bottom until she could wear it again. It was somewhat of a homecoming, though it seemed a different girl stepped into it. Not even a girl at all, really. A grown woman. A changed woman.

Her and Juliet’s billet had a mirror, so she took the opportunity to really look at herself for the first time in weeks. Though she was clean, she looked tired. She didn’t have much color to her face, and she had lost more weight. She frowned at her reflection, hearing her mother loud and clear in her mind. To her surprise, she voiced what she heard.

“Thin and pale,” she murmured. “That won’t do.”

Juliet looked up from her notebook. “I beg your pardon?”

Melanie did not reply. She was too busy pinching her cheeks along the bone, giving them a semblance of rosiness. It was an old trick, but a useful one. So was chewing one’s lips to make them red if one didn’t have any rouge, which was her next task.

“Mel, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Juliet demanded, getting to her feet.

“Making myself somewhat presentable,” Melanie answered. “Now that we’re back in relative comfort, I’ve got no excuse for walking around looking like a rag doll.”

Juliet scoffed in disbelief. Then she stood in front of Melanie, took her by the shoulders, and looked into her eyes, searching.

“What are you doing?” Melanie asked.

“I’m looking for Melanie Davis, I hope she’s still in there,” Juliet returned.

It occurred to Melanie that Juliet had only known the exhausted, wounded Melanie from weeks at war and no sleep. Already a little jaded from the amount of wounded who passed through. Of course she didn’t recognize the Melanie from before - who lived with constant reminders of femininity and vanity she’d had ingrained in her since childhood.

She rolled her eyes and dislodged herself from Juliet’s grip. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s me.”

“You’ve been through hell on Earth,” Juliet pointed out. “Who cares what you look like?”

Melanie hadn’t thought of it that way. And she had certainly not had many experiences of criticism being met with compassion. She didn’t always feel she deserved compassion - she was happy to give it to others but for herself? Perfection only. It was hitting her now what an impossible standard she was holding herself to.

“Oh, I must sound awfully vain,” Melanie sighed. “I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it if I prefer feeling feminine. I can’t believe how much I took for granted just having lipstick or nail polish.”

“Obviously, you can enjoy those things, but I cannot stand by and let you say that you ‘won’t do,’” Juliet replied. “You’re a beautiful woman, with or without lipstick.”

Melanie looked at the floor and fixed her clothes. “That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

She was unused to getting such compliments. Her mother had always fixated on Melanie’s looks, though she had never been insulting. It was always reassurance that she was pretty enough to “catch a husband.” But, as she had pointed out to herself, there was more to the world than all that. The war was still on. She had a job to do.

“Alright, I’m off to work,” she said. “It feels mighty fine to be saying that again.”

She forced herself to smile, putting all thoughts of her appearance behind her. She just needed to get back to a hospital and work with patients so she could start feeling like herself again. Juliet wished her luck, and then Melanie was off.

***

As they made their way deeper into Germany, Dick’s inner conflict deepened, too. Melanie’s condition, her moods and general demeanor, seemed to improve, while Lew seemed to get steadily worse. The day of the jump (which he was still a bit bitter to have missed, despite its outcome), when Dick had to tell his best friend about his demotion, he was disturbed by Nix’s non-reaction, followed by flippant remarks to disguise a frustration he clearly would not voice. Dick sought out the only person he felt he could talk to about his concerns - Melanie.

He went first to her billet. The day was drawing to a close, so he assumed she would be back by now from the hospital. Juliet opened the door and looked surprised to see him.

“Oh! Hello, Major,” she said.

“Is Melanie here?” he asked, getting right to the point.

“No, she hasn’t come back from the hospital yet,” she told him. “Is everything alright? Did you have something...important to tell her?”

She raised a knowing eyebrow at him and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. At this point, he wasn’t sure who was more invested in his relationship with Melanie - Nix or Juliet. He wondered what might have happened if she had been around to help orchestrate the Paris trip. For now, he let it slide.

“I just want to talk to her,” he said. “Thanks, though.”

“Worth a shot,” she said under her breath. “Well, let me know if we need to send out a search party.”

“Will do,” he said, amused. “See you later.”

She nodded in return and closed the door. Dick headed to the hospital. He looked forward to seeing Melanie - he always did. He just wished his friends would see that, and realize it was enough for now. There was enough understanding between them that they were pretty well aware of what they felt for each other. At least, Dick was sure he understood. But there was still a war, and that wasn’t really the place for romance.

By the time he arrived at the hospital, he had pushed his frustrations with his friends to the back of his mind. In the first ward, he found Melanie, in a chair beside a patient’s bed, a deck of cards between them on a tray, and laughter on her face. The patient pulled a card from his hand and laid it down, which made Melanie’s jaw drop.

“Another red three?” she gasped. “I think it’s very clear how this game is going to end.”

“You’ve still got a chance, Miss Melanie,” he replied through a thick Southern accent. “One good hand and you could turn this whole thing around.”

“Well, lucky for you, my hand isn’t anything to write home about,” she returned, frowning at it. “Draw your cards, Sergeant.”

He reached for the deck and picked up three cards, adding them to his hand. Dick watched the game play out for a moment - the sergeant discarded, Melanie drew two, then she discarded, and the sergeant drew again. All the while, Melanie talked to the man. He was missing his right leg up to the thigh - and a fleeting image of Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye passed through Dick’s mind. But judging by this soldier’s attitude, no one would have guessed anything was the matter with him. The way he smiled and chuckled at Melanie’s praise, he didn’t seem to notice that he was even in a hospital bed.

Dick’s heart was warmed by the sight. Melanie really was back to her old self. She was off duty, and yet she sat with a man she didn’t know to bring him some small comfort. A simple card game. A chance for him to feel normal again, even for a few moments. Dick wasn’t sure which he admired more - her selflessness or how happy she looked to be where she was. The grin on her face gave away that she considered it no trouble to play a game with a patient when her rounds were over. She was genuinely glad to do it. Dick hoped Toye and Guarnere had similarly wonderful nurses wherever they were.

“A canasta already?” she cried as Dick approached. “If you go out on me with all this in my hand, Sergeant, I’ll be finished for sure!”

She discarded and then finally, she looked up. She caught Dick’s eye as he took some tentative steps toward her, hesitant to interrupt. But she beamed at him, so he assumed he was welcome.

“Good evening, Dick,” she said kindly.

The sergeant turned and saw Dick, so he offered a quick salute. “Good evening, sir,”

“Good evening,” Dick returned politely. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Melanie assured him. “Dick, this is Sergeant Samson - the finest canasta player in the US Army. Sergeant, this is Major Winters.” The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Then she met Dick’s gaze again. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, and found himself regretting coming at all. She was busy, and he felt foolish for disrupting her moment of joy. “I can come back later, though -”

“Actually, sir, I’m about ready for some sleep if Miss Melanie will let me off the hook,” Samson said.

She cast him a playful look. “I see how you operate, Samson. Quit while you’re ahead, that way you don’t lose.”

He laughed, a bit bashful at her teasing, but she collected the cards all the same, and set them aside.

“We’ll play again tomorrow if you like,” she offered.

“Of course,” he returned. “That is, if you enjoy losing that much!”

She feigned offense while he chuckled some more. Then she fluffed his pillows and pulled the blankets up to his chest. Dick watched and felt a familiar stir in his heart of affection for her. She was the most beautiful person he had ever had the pleasure of knowing - and that did not just apply to her pretty face. Melanie was a sweet soul, a nurturing heart, and a bright mind. She was a high quality person. And tiny moments like this showed that to him more than anything.

“Can I get you anything else before I go?” she offered Samson.

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Good night, Sergeant,” she said.

“Good night, ma’am, sir.”

Dick nodded in acknowledgement before offering Melanie his arm, which she took, and they left the ward together. It struck him that her touch no longer made him so nervous. It thrilled him - even after knowing each other for years - but it was comfortable now. As if the crook of his arm was made for her hand. It was natural.

“Is everything alright, Dick?” she asked as they stepped outside. “You seem troubled.”

He didn’t consider himself a particularly emotive person, but Melanie never failed to pick up on what he was feeling. Especially when he needed her.

“It’s Nix,” he said. “His drinking...it’s become such a problem up at regiment that he was demoted today. When I told him that, he didn’t even seem to care.”

Melanie’s brows furrowed and she looked thoughtfully ahead. “I’m sorry to hear that. Lewis is a good man and a fine officer. I would have thought he’d be more invested.”

“Well, in his defense, he’d just come back from that disaster of a jump,” Dick said.

“What disaster of a jump?” she wondered.

He told her what Nix had relayed to him - that the troopers didn’t even make it out of the plane. The CO was killed. Nix and just a handful of others survived out of sheer luck.

“Oh, how awful,” she said, heartbroken.

There really could be no moment between them where the war did not rear its ugly head, Dick thought bitterly. No matter what, there was some news of tragedy. Death sank its teeth into even a simple evening stroll. He decided to steer the conversation back to its original subject.

“Seeing Lew like this just has me worried,” he said. “I feel like he’s close to spiraling, and I don’t have a clue what to do. I thought it was just a bad habit, but now...” he trailed off, unsure what to call his friend’s profound issue.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much you can do,” Melanie told him. “Nix is...troubled, and he has his coping mechanism. Unless he wants to quit drinking, there’s nothing you - or anybody - can do to stop him from picking that bottle up again.”

Once again, he was being told to do nothing - frustrating and impossible advice. He had hoped for more from her.

“What you can do,” she went on, and he felt a glimmer of hope again. “Is make yourself available to him. Let him know - subtly, of course - that you’re ready if and when he’ll need you. Eventually, it will come to a head, and he’ll need people in his corner that he can truly rely on.”

“It still sounds like doing nothing,” he said, defeated.

“I know you’re a man of action, Dick, but this will take patience,” she returned, understanding.

He didn’t answer right away, still a bit frustrated. He also took a moment to look at her. The dim twilight was flattering on her skin. A cool breeze made her flyaway hairs stir around her head. She looked a bit like a painting with the Bavarian backdrop behind her. It struck him again how much he loved her. She met his gaze.

“Dick?”

He shook his head to clear it, though appreciating her beauty had eased some of his irritation about Nix.

“Sorry,” he said. “You look nice tonight, that’s all.”

“Thank you,” she said, blushing lightly. “I’m feeling much better now that we’ve got more food and I’m back in a hospital.”

He had noticed her improvement over the past few days. Her cheeks were rounding out again, and she didn’t look so tired. Her bruises were gone, too.

“I feel a bit silly,” she admitted. “I was fussing over how I looked when we first got here because I didn’t have lipstick or nail polish. What a ridiculous thing to worry about.”

Melanie always looked natural, so he tried to remember the last time he saw her looking nicer than usual. It was Paris. Which was beginning to feel decades in the past instead of just months.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he assured her. “Silly, I’ll give you, but ridiculous is a strong word.”

“Alright, silly it is then,” she teased back with a smile, and he ached at how much he adored it.

They reached her billet, stopped outside the door, and faced each other.

“This takes me back,” she said. “All the way to Aldbourne.”

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I don’t think I’d recognize those two kids.”

“Me neither,” she chuckled. “So much has happened. But, I…”

He looked expectantly at her as she trailed off and gathered her thoughts. Her brow furrowed, which told him she was searching for the right words.

“I am so grateful we’re still friends,” she said. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I could have made it this far.”

It was his turn to get flustered. For a moment, he stood there silently, a bit lost for words. It was such an honest and wonderful thing to say. How could he return that sentiment?

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m grateful too, Mel,” he said, feeling the understatement like an itch on his skin. “Really.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, smiling. “On that pleasant note, shall we say goodnight? Unless there’s anything else?”

He shook his head. “Thanks for listening. As always.”

They said goodnight, and she went inside, no doubt to chat to Juliet before climbing into bed and settling in. Dick wanted only for Melanie to be safe and comfortable, especially after everything she’d been through. He hoped that after the war, she could end her days in his arms instead of alone, he could tell her plainly how much she meant to him, and that he could be her true refuge. Until then, his mind went to lipstick and nail polish…

The following day, on his way to HQ, he found some. An abandoned drug store sat on the intersection he crossed, and there were a few enlisted men already scrounging around inside, claiming whatever they could find. He normally wasn’t one for taking souvenirs, but he was more compelled by the idea of doing something nice for Melanie. So he stepped through the kicked in door and looked around. The makeup aisle had already been pretty thoroughly picked over - broken bottles and compacts littered the floor, but one last untouched gold tube on the shelf caught his eye. A red lipstick. He took it.

He glanced around for nail polish too, but the only color left was a dark purple, which he could not for the life of him imagine Melanie wearing. The lipstick would have to do.

He intended on giving it to her that day, but he got caught up in several different briefings, which evidently could not be postponed. So many that he sent Zielinski to the hospital with a message asking Melanie to join him in his office for dinner. They hadn’t had significant time together in much too long, and he missed it. So he was grateful when she accepted and agreed to meet him at eight o’clock.

Dick got worried when eight-fifteen came and went. He checked his watch for the tenth time in the last sixty seconds and sighed, fearing that Melanie had forgotten him. Or worse, something was terribly wrong at the hospital, and she was enduring further tragedy. Finally, when he was about ready to go looking for her himself, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” he called.

To his great relief, Melanie walked through the door, closing it softly behind her. She looked a bit sheepish as she came closer.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Dick,” she said. “Sergeant Samson and I were just wrapping up.”

“More canasta?” he asked.

She nodded. “It’s his favorite game. He used to play it with his sisters back home. He’s got three of them.”

“Three sisters, wow,” he remarked. “No brothers?”

“One,” she said sadly. “But he was killed on Guadalcanal.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “But I’m impressed with you. You really get to know the men you’re treating.”

“I certainly try,” she said. “Hospitals can often feel overly clinical and cold. Doctors don’t have much time to spend with patients, and nurses can get overwhelmed. I don’t want the patients to mistake that for not caring.”

Dick had met very few people who had the emotional capability to invest so much in others. For a fleeting moment, he likened Melanie to a priest or pastor, with a flock of people to look after, but what she did was different. She wasn’t a spiritual guide or advisor. She was a simple comfort. A place to tell someone about your favorite game or your siblings or your life story. A generous ear to listen to you talk about something besides your pain.

“That’s very sweet of you,” he told her, keeping the true depth of it to himself.

She took a seat across from him at his desk, and they had dinner together. At first, she asked mostly about him and how he was doing, but he eventually turned it around. He let her talk about the patients she’d met at this hospital, and she shared little tidbits of their lives. She wasn’t burdened by it, either. In each one, she found something of interest, worth remembering and holding onto. He listened, but he knew he’d never be able to recall everything the way she did. But he hoped he helped by doing a little bit of what she did for others, for her.

When they finished eating, she sat back with a satisfied smile. He loved that look on her face and he couldn’t help but smile a bit himself. To continue that momentum, he went into his desk and pulled out his gift for her. He didn’t have a box or anything this time, so it wasn’t nearly as big as the gift of the dress, but he hoped she’d still appreciate it.

“I got something for you,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

He placed the tube of lipstick on the desk as her mouth fell open. But a sparkle in her eyes told him it was a delighted sort of shock.

“Where did you get this?” she gasped. She picked it up and examined it, as if not quite believing it was real.

“There’s a drug store in town that’s...no longer in operation,” he explained. He still didn’t love that he’d technically stolen it, but he wouldn’t let her know. “I think every man in the regiment got something for the women in his life. And you mentioned wanting some.”

“And you remembered?” she wondered.

“Sure I did,” he replied with a chuckle.

“How kind of you,” she said, her grin widening. “I can’t wait to use it! Thank you so much!”

Did anything feel better than making her happy? Dick wasn’t sure. The warmth in his chest told him there was nothing. It didn’t matter that he’d taken it by looting. For that smile, he was prepared to commit highway robbery.

“You’re welcome,” he returned.

He watched her gaze at the items in her hand, a pensive, contemplative expression coming over her features. There was something more she wanted to say. Knowing her, she would shake her head, smile again, and mumble “never mind” mostly to herself before moving on. He hoped she wouldn’t, so he remained silent, giving her the space to work through what she was thinking.

“It seems silly to say this over something so small,” she began, her voice soft, so he had to lean closer in order to hear. “But may I share something with you?”

“Of course,” he assured her, though the question made him nervous.

He tried to think of what could make her so serious all of a sudden, but nothing immediately came to mind. A split second of doubt came over him that she was going to confess she had met someone else because she was tired of waiting for him. But that seemed like a rather outlandish conclusion to jump to. He slowed down his thoughts and focused on her.

“I know you’ve been wondering about what caused me to leave the hospital in Bastogne and come to the front lines,” she began. “And I haven’t been able to tell you. I’m sorry.”

He was still curious, but he certainly didn’t want her to feel like she had to talk about that just because of a lipstick he didn’t even pay for.

“You don’t have to-”

“Please,” she cut across him. “Let me get this out before I lose my nerve.”

“Take your time,” he said gently.

She nodded and took a deep breath. Tears pricked her eyes as she released it, slow and shaky. He mentally braced himself to hear the worst.

“Before the hospital was bombed, Terry...made me an offer,” she continued. “For a life together after the war. He told me he had always had feelings for me and basically that he wanted to marry me.” She ran the fingers on her right hand over the ring finger of her left.

“Naturally, I refused,” she went on. “I wasn’t in love with him.” She paused there, toying with the lipstick tube, as if debating adding something onto that sentence, but decided against it. “I thought my answer was clear, even before the bombing. But the day I was supposed to return to work, he came to my room.”

She stopped again, chewing her bottom lip before swallowing hard.

“He’d had a bit to drink,” she said. “He wasn’t out of control, but I could smell it when he got close to me. He proposed again. I refused him. He shouted at me that he loved me. He said he couldn’t bear the thought of me with another man. And that’s when he started to throw things.”

Beads of sweat appeared on her brow and hairline. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, undeterred, though trembling. She rubbed her hand against the fabric of her dress to dry it off.

“I pleaded with him to stop, but he grabbed me by my face,” she said. “Painfully. Then he looked me in the eyes and threatened to...crush my skull against the vanity, to use his words.”

She looked at him, and suddenly, she halted and met his gaze.

“Am I upsetting you?” she asked.

If he didn’t know her better, he would have thought she was being sarcastic - trying to remind him just who really had been hurt here, but she wasn’t. She was genuinely concerned about him in a moment like this. Her tone, apologetic.

Dick’s anger had risen from a simmer to a boil. He’d been trying to maintain composure as she spoke. He did not want her to lose her nerve by seeing him get agitated, but he couldn’t help the set of his jaw. He regretted not fighting Clarke when he’d had the chance because maybe this might not have happened. It’s harder to throw things and grab people with broken fingers, after all. He shook his head and took a deep breath to calm down, intentionally relaxing every muscle in his face.

“I’m fine, Mel,” he lied. “Please, go on.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but did not protest.

“I tried to resist,” she continued. “But then he grabbed me by the throat. If he said anything else at that point, I didn’t hear. I was blacking out quickly. And for a moment, I was afraid...I was so afraid I was going to die.”

She choked on the last word, and she swiped the tear that leaked onto her cheek away quickly. He kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching her lip quiver. He knew it was ridiculous, but overwhelming guilt sank its claws into his heart. He should have been there to defend her. He should have warned Colonel Sink about Terry. He should have done something. Even now, he wished he could protect her from the very memory of it.

“I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “But somehow I found the strength to get away. I remember striking him, but not much else. That was when Colonel Sink showed up. And I begged him to let me go...well, anywhere that wasn’t the hospital. He suggested the Bois Jacques, and I agreed.”

He sat with it a moment, impressed at her resilience, and a little relieved that nothing worse had happened - and he had imagined much worse, especially when she said the altercation had taken place in her bedroom. But she got away. She rescued herself. There was something to be said for that.

“I’m so sorry you went through that, Mel,” he said. “You were very brave.”

“Please don’t flatter me, Dick,” she replied. “Dogs have enough courage to fight back when attacked. I acted on instinct.”

“Even so, you did well,” he insisted. He hesitated asking his next question, unsure how she might take it or if she was receptive to being questioned at all.

“Why didn’t you report him?” he asked, feeling desperate. “That’s a court martial offense, assaulting a fellow officer.”

“Colonel Sink offered to do the paperwork, but I asked him not to,” she told him. “There’s no point, really. It would be my word against his and that rarely goes well for a woman.”

Dick carefully disguised his distaste for that answer. He wasn’t frustrated by Melanie, but that she was right.

“Besides,” she said. “He didn’t really do anything. He just frightened me, that’s all.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” he returned. “He nearly killed you.”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands, which were in her lap now, fidgeting with the lipstick tube, which made a soft pop each time she opened or closed it.

“You may think you’re being kind by showing him mercy, Mel,” he said. “But Terry should be at the least reprimanded for what he’s done. I know it’s hard, but you’re brave enough to -”

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“Dick, stop it!” she cried, looking desperately at him. “I’m not brave or strong or kind or anything else! I’m scared, alright?! I didn’t report Terry because I’m terrified that he will find me again! And how much worse would it be if he had nothing to lose?! It isn’t mercy, it’s fear!”

She lowered her eyes to the floor and tried to draw in a breath. It was shallow and shaky, catching on the lump in her throat. He couldn’t stand that he was not holding her. So he got to his feet, crossed to the other side of his desk, stood before her, and held out his hand. She looked at it, then up at his face, before placing her fingers in his palm. He helped her to stand. Then, he gathered her up in his arms. Her forehead found a resting place on his chest, and she nuzzled into him. They fit together like puzzle pieces.

“I’m sorry, Melanie,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry.” When she only nodded, he continued. “You’re safe now.”

“Yes,” she said softly into his chest. “Yes, I know.”

He made a silent promise to himself and her. From here on out, he would be her personal shield. No one deserved what she had endured, but she especially didn’t. This woman, who was all heart and grace and goodness. He would protect her with everything he had.

#band of brothers #dick winters #melanie jo davis #richard winters #dick winters x ofc #band of brothers fanfiction #richard winters x ofc #hbo war #Easy Company #dick winters fic #dear heart series

39 notes · View notes

the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years ago

Text

A familiar Soul - Chapter Nine

Summary: Hilda decides to be completely honest with her mother, surprised when she seems to be a lot more in on magic than Hilda had expected her to be.

With her daughter’s association with witches, Johanna is forced to face some secrets of her own, bringing her back to feelings and people she’d rather have left behind

Dealing with insecurities and inner demons of her own, Kaisa finds herself face to face with the very issues that brought her to be so displeased with her own abilities

Or: the one where Johanna is Kaisa’s familiar

Notes: I suppose this is more of a filler chapter, but I hope you could enjoy some shippy fluff anyways. And look! We’re over the half way mark now :D

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4) (chpt5) (chpt6) (chpt7) (chpt8) (chpt9)

The second time Matilda hears that story, the atmosphere is astoundingly different.

She pretends to never have heard about the recent happenings in the sewers, of course, because Frida sounded so excited about her success that she wanted to give the girl an opportunity to ramble about it all she wanted, without leaving any detail out. Tildy would be the first to admit she was no actress, but she thought she did quite well with making exclamations of surprise, worry and wonder at just the right times, all the while feeling the warmth of pride fill her chest.

Hilda had come with her that day, and even though she wasn’t as thrilled with the recent adventure as her witch, it was stark clear that she wasn’t traumatized or scarred from it like any other person would be. If there was anything bothering her, it seemed to have been her mother’s attitude, but she hadn’t talked much about it and Tildy hadn’t pressed her. Still, the sorceress couldn’t deny that the outcome could have easily been tragic had her apprentices taken any longer to arrive, and as someone who cared about Hilda that truly didn’t sit well with her. Besides, she had made a promise to Johanna, after all.

Having been told that story by Kaisa right after it had happened, she had had enough time to prepare for the girls’s next visit. On top of the small table by the door, there were two miniature drawstring velvet bags, the sort that was used to carry crystals when a witch wished to take them on a trip. Inside those two, however, there were no precious stones, and Tildy picked them up when she had finished congratulating Frida for her magic feat.

“Only one thing worries me.” As nonchalantly as she could, Tildy weighed the two bags on her hands, making sure they felt the same. “If something of the sort happens again, you might not be as close to Hilda, or vice versa. I made some of this for both of you, and it would make this old woman a lot calmer if you could promise to keep it with yourselves at all times.”

Frida took the bags from her hands and passed one on to Hilda, whose curiosity immediately led her to opening it. A bluish glow lit up the underside of her face as she stared inside, amazed. It looked like Tildy had captured all of the stars in the sky and trapped them in that tiny satchel.

“What is this?” Frida asked as she looked over Hiilda’s shoulder and into her friend’s bag. The scent of seawater tickled her nose, and traveled down to her lungs making her feel like she was on the beach on a stormy day.

“Enchanted kraken shell powder.”

Hilda gasped “Kraken shell?!”

“Enchanted powdered kraken shell. Should one of you ever be in danger, the other needs only to step on some amount of the powder and find themselves instantly by their side. Crafty, isn’t it?”

Blinking, Frida tried to get past her surprise. Yes, it was crafty, but most of all it was impossible. Wasn’t it?

“Tildy, how on earth did you get this?”

Her mentor shrugged. “I know people. And the kraken was already dead, so worry not for that.”

While Frida tried to comb her mind for any spell that had a similar end and could be manipulated to have that same result, attempting to figure out how such an awe inspiring feat was done, Hilda’s head was already filled with ideas of how useful that could come in the future.

“That’s so cool!” She exclaimed. “Could it work with other people too?”

Dialing Hilda’s excitement down, Tildy moved her head left to right in a negative gesture. “This powder only works between witch and familiar. That’s why it's so rare. Familiars are usually treated as pets, so they rarely stay away from their witch at all.”

“But how are we supposed to know when the other will need help if we’re not close by?’

“But that’s the exciting part!” Tildy clasped her hands together in glee. “I think it’s time for you two to learn about the call!”

Though she herself didn’t know what that was about, Hilda noticed Frida gasp softly; no doubt her witch had already read about that.

“That’s really true? I tried to send the call to Hilda one day to test it but… I don’t think it worked.”

“Wait, what?” Hilda turned to her friend while her mentor watched them with amusement. “I never got any call from you.”

“That’s why I’m saying it didn’t work, Hilda.”

“The call isn’t something you get, darling.” Moving past them, Tildy began walking in the direction of the room where they did their magic training. It was the girls’ cue to follow her. “It is something you feel. The bond between witch and familiar is so strong that you are able to send a signal of sorts to each other, but you have to properly learn how to do it first. Once this ability is activated, you never lose it.”

“So cool!” Both of them gasped at the same time as they followed on the sorceress’s tail.

Turning the brass knob clockwisely and sending a jolt of magic through it (after all, what kind of witch would she be if her spell room was protected only by mundane ways?), Tildy opened the door to allow them in.

“It’s good to see your excitement! Shall we begin?”

_#_#_#_

Even though Kaisa would be the first to say that rainy days were her favourite, she had to admit to being glad for the sun shining brightly that afternoon. The event would be ruined otherwise, and that would make Johanna terribly upset.

Children of different ages ran excitedly through the stands that were put up in the field near the Sparrow Scouts Hall, playing games which Kaisa couldn’t recognize or gathering close to said stands. The Raven Leader had had the idea of introducing the children to different crafts, in order to try and make them interested in parts of their culture that weren’t given much attention. Being one of the senior Sparrow Scouts, Johanna had taken upon herself great part of the responsibility for organizing that event, and Kaisa even had accompanied her to those professionals’ houses to be with her when she made the invitation. Artisans with a wide range of different abilities now showed their skills to the children, and Kaisa was sure her girlfriend must be feeling really proud of the result of her work.

As she looked for Johanna among the swarm of similarly dressed scouts, Kaisa could only imagine how livid Henrietta would be if she learned that a witch so close to being fully trained was attending such a human event; mingling with non witches was not something she was encouraged to do, and the feeling of rebellion made being there even more worth it. Of course, that still couldn’t compare to the chance of seeing her girlfriend doing something she felt comfortable with.

Kaisa found her in the middle of the crowd, giving information to a trio of children who didn’t know where to begin exploring the event. After sending them on their way to a woman who was demonstrating the making of julehjerters, little decorative hearts of weaved paper, Johanna lifted her gaze and noticed the witch observing her. With a smile on her face, she beckoned Kaisa closer and closed her in a tight hug.

“I’m so glad to see you here!” She chirped into Kaisa’s cardigan, both of them taking a couple of seconds to just hold each other.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Answered Kaisa, looking around without dislodging herself from the embrace. “Are you sure I can be here, though? I only see other scouts around.”

Granted, the witch knew she wasn't the best of influences when it came to following rules, but she still wouldn’t want Johanna to get into any kind of trouble because of her. There were no other outsiders around her, and Kaisa didn’t think stealing a sash from some random kid would be a good solution.

Johanna took a step back, though she kept herself close enough that they were still holding each other’s waits, and smiled. “Don’t worry about it! We were encouraged to call people for the event. I just asked you to come earlier so we could make the most out of it, but people will begin arriving soon enough.”

“‘The most of it?’” Kaisa lifted an eyebrow.

“Of course!” Johanna’s eyes glittered as she tugged on her hand, guiding her girlfriend through the gathering. Kaisa didn’t resist, trusting her girlfriend knew where she was going as she began feeling a scent of flour and hearth in the air, which got stronger with every step they took. “There are things we must try before there are queues! Have you ever eaten a traditional lefse?”

_#_#_#_

Johanna had been right; it didn’t take long before a crowd began gathering on the field, both people who seemed to be there for their Sparrow Scout loved ones or those who only happened to hear about the event and showed up to enjoy the activities. As she’d already worked hard to make that event happen, not much else was expected from her except helping a confused younger scout every now and then, leaving her with time to spend with Kaisa.

Already eating their second serving of lefse with butter, they were discussing a way to find the recipe (Kaisa had offered to use a spell to steal a copy from the stallman, but unfortunately Johanna had stopped her before she had the chance) when one of the faces among the ones surrounding them caught their attention. Not because it was familiar to them in any way, but because there was something unquestionably strange about it. Framed by eerily red bangs, the girl’s eyes seemed to reflect no light at all. Johanna tried to point her out subtly.

“There’s something weird about that girl.” She said, watching Kaisa’s eyes narrow as if she was staring right through the other teenager.

“She’s a marra.” The witch stated with not an inkling of doubt in her voice, even though Johanna couldn’t tell what kind of magic she might have used to reach that conclusion, and turned to her with a sly smile in the corner of her mouth. “Should we do something about it?”

“No, I don’t think we should. Let’s not ruin our lovely day.”

“Anna, where is your sense of adventure?” Kaisa lifted an eyebrow, only half joking. She had noticed that with each passing day her girlfriend became less and less excited about the things they used to do together. It didn't mean that they were drawing apart, since they still always enjoyed simply being together, but sometimes Kaisa worried that things were changing too fast; while Johanna got more mature, she still felt moved by the same things she did as a child. She could only hope Johanna would never outgrow magic. It’s not like Kaisa had anything else to offer her.

“Right here, as always.” Johanna tapped her chest playfully, making Kaisa giggle, and then slid her arm across her girlfriend’s back to keep her close. “But the only adventure I’m interested in right now is being with you.”

Rolling her eyes, Kaisa leaned her head against Johanna’s shoulder and resigned herself to not doing anything. She watched the bustling event with little interest, focusing only on Johanna’s comments about school, her family, the Sparrow Scouts and all the other things happening in her life. Adventurous or not, she would have loved to spend the whole evening like that. Soon, however, Johanna took her arm away from around her witch, which made her look up questioningly.

Johanna was wearing an apologetic expression, trying her best to not look away from Kaisa’s face. The few strands of curly copper hair falling in front of her eyes made her seem disheveled for a moment. “We should probably get going. People are leaving, the place will be deserted soon.”

“Right.” Kaisa sat upright on the bench. “Want to come over for dinner? Tildy said she was making stew.”

The smile that Johanna had managed to put up wavered. “I’d love to, but… not today.”

After so many years, Kaisa recognized that tone of voice, and her own happiness faltered. “Your parents?”

“Yeah.” As a cooler breeze brushed against their skins, Johanna shivered. “They don’t like it that I seem to be out more often than before.”

It took Kaisa effort not to huff. Of course Johanna was going out more; she was trying to get extracurriculars under her belt for when the time came to send out college applications, not to mention how she had taken to helping some of her friends with their studying. How it escaped Johanna’s parents' notice that they were lucky to have a daughter like Johanna, Kaisa didn’t know, but she did take them for fools for it. Though Kaisa had to admit that their wariness of her didn’t get them any points with her either.

She did, of course, know that Johanna was certainly more upset with this than she could be. It was her problem to deal with, after all, and Kaisa wouldn’t make it worse by protesting. As they lifted themselves up to their feet, she tried to smile reassuringly.

“You could come over some other day, then. Don’t worry about it.”

Despite her mood, Johanna’s spirits were lifted by Kaisa’s thoughtfulness, and she leaned in to kiss her girlfriend sweetly on her lips, uncaring of who could see them. She tasted of coffee and of the lefse they’d had some time before, leaving Johanna slightly breathless when she drew back. Their hands interlaced between them as their foreheads touched, they had to make an enormous amount of effort to let go.

“Good evening, then.” Kaisa whispered, wondering how on earth the day had passed by so fast. If she thought such magic even existed, she would have suspected of some wicked witch casting a spell to steal their time from them. “And good luck.”

#ao3 stopped being weird with me woohoo #fic: afs #my fic #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship fanfiction #kaisa hilda fanfic #johanna hilda fanfic

13 notes · View notes

pfreadsandwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Acquiescence (Part 2/3)

AO3 LINK AND AUTHOR’S NOTES

warnings: angst, fluff, third-person, unnamed female character, 1200+ words

part 1/part 3

ii. homecoming

The battle is over, and Kakashi makes his way home.

The threat is gone, taking the night with it. Miraculously, it hasn’t taken much else, save for non-serious casualties and a few million ryos’ worth of infrastructural damage for which Kakashi’s certain he’ll have to deal with the paperwork tomorrow. Or today, he amends, straining his eyes at the horizon for the first glimpse of the morning sun. Still, he’s been through hell enough times to know that if its main outcome is sleep-deprivation, you can’t complain. You can’t complain regardless; it accomplishes nothing, serves nothing and no-one. You don’t have the right. He wavered that away before he starting losing his baby teeth.

Not that it’s ever been his style, and it’s served him well.

(At least that’s what he tells himself.)

The limbs that feel like stone, the bruises, the dehydration and the fatigue - they’re all temporary, and though her reaction mightn’t be as lackadaisical as his (she tries, for his sake, but also - for his sake - she’s a terrible liar), he’s used to it. He’s been used to that, and worse, much worse, since before his baby teeth too.

It’s homecoming, homecoming to her that’s harder to adjust to. He doesn’t know if he ever will. He doesn’t have the right. He’s sure of that. But he’s not so disciplined that the thought of it, the thought of her and the sanctuary she’s created for him, selflessly, doesn’t energise him, even if it flusters him to admit it. The warm glow from the sunrise pairs nicely with the one he’s craving when he walks through the door, that’ll fill his heart and the air soon, that she provides without thinking.

Although he’s not so emotionally inept to think that it’s effortless. It’s not. But she tries, she tries so hard to convince him it is, that he can deserve all this without feeling guilty, that she can cope with all the fear and the aftercare, that he’s worth it, that she thinks nothing of it, until he has to pretend he believes it. For her sake. For his, too. It’s the only way he can begin to accept it.

She’s a miracle, after all.

(He’s had no one to come home to since before he lost all his baby teeth.)

With an undetectable haste, he turns on his tired heel and heads home. The villagers’ voices, full of the excited, animated chatter that follows the adrenaline of nights like tonight, surround him. He reluctantly accepts the gratitude and smiles from ninja and civilians alike, with the humility and charisma he’s praised for, deflecting compliments and reverence wherever he can, but it still feels phantom. He’s uncomfortable with the attention. It’s mismatched.

“Leave it to Lord Sixth!” a fresh-faced chunin gushes. Kakashi hopes to the heavens that this ridiculous path the kid has chosen won’t break him. It’s less likely now, at least.

“He’s shaping up to be a fine leader,” a shopkeeper says with an almost maternal pride. He hesitates, but smiles, and makes a mental note to ensure her business hasn’t taken damage when he gets to the office.

“He’s really amazing, isn’t he? What would we do without him?” A smitten young woman sighs wistfully. He’d saved her from an attack, and though it’d been effortless, it doesn’t seem that way to her. He chuckles, amused, but watches from a distance to check she and her friends enter their homes safely.

The walk home continues along the same vein. Well, to be fair, he’s able to fulfil his obligation for another night, and no lives have been lost - he understands their optimism. And grateful as he is for his luck and ability, living up to everyone’s expectations tonight, his overworked brain and body rarely grant him self-satisfaction for doing so. It’s only safe until the next enemy, his body and mind know it so well that it’s etched in both. But still, the villagers are generous with their appreciation, like they refuse to let him forget for a second.

It’s not unfamiliar, but it doesn’t motivate him like it should. The words are like chains on his back, the pressure unrelenting as they continuously tighten. He knows he can’t crack, though. It’s his burden. He has to bear it. He has to. But he knows he won’t crack, either. Whilst Konoha and its protection has always been a weight on his shoulders - don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t begrudge it, but still, it is - her, her and that still ethereal little part of them both growing inside her don’t add to it. Instead it’s new strength to bear it, as cliche as that sounds. Sometimes she even enables him to shed it, if only for a little while.

I’ll be waiting, Kakashi. Her gentle words echo, nudging at the inside of his skull. A soft reminder of her acquiescence, and her choice, her incredible choice, to encourage despite it. Her determination always surprises even him, quiet as it is. He’s both fuelled and unnerved by it - how stubborn, unwavering she can be in her kindness, her femininity. How she reignited his resolve with so few words. It bewilders him, in his life that seems much longer than it is, where he’s seen much more than he should. Strength he never knew before her. But he knows that they’re lucky, this time. Reality has been as kind as it can be (the sheer power of her invisible will, Kakashi’s sure, because God knows it’s never favoured him). But how much of a comfort will that be when the next fight inevitably comes along? It’s never over, he remembers before he decides he wants to. How long will she wait? Do you really think you deserve that? It claws at the inside of his skull.

Her expression rushes into his mind before the doubt and the anxiety settle fully in that destructive, familiar way. It quells it, like a panacea. Maybe the subconscious part of him is getting used to her after all. He does admit that it was, somewhat, easier to leave, easier to fight, just easier, when he was ambivalent about whether he lived or died. When he had no one - no one to hurt, no one to lose - as lonely as it was. Because her eyes, her beautiful eyes, the notion that he could leave them behind - sometimes it almost makes him begrudge his lifelong duty. Almost.

But how can he disappoint those big, optimistic eyes by giving into his own negativity? The way her lips quivered, her eyelashes fluttered and he knows she was about to cry, holding off for his sake, but she still smiled at him anyway. He knows he makes her suffer. And he knows he’s not worth the trouble. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, and he knows that she’s too kind tor realise it. He knows there’s a chance that any time he has with her is borrowed.

Even so, the thought of her - loving, acquiescing. How can he stop himself from becoming addicted, at least a little? And how could he fail her by not even trying to meet her halfway?

He approaches the front door. The adrenaline that got him here is depleting, and the lethargy replaces it. His body is even heavier. But it’s at least in part due to relief, not just exhaustion. He inserts his keys slowly - and he hears a gasp and light footsteps rushing closer.

Silly, Kakashi thinks, like he thinks every time. She should get some sleep.

Still, he closes his eyes and smiles, like he does every time. Her glow emanates to him, effortlessly, like it does every time.

It doesn’t matter if he’s worth it or not - he remembers, now that he’s home - because she is.

#kakashi #kakashi x reader #naruto #kakashi fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #kakashi hatake #pfwrites

57 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

Text

RWBY Recaps: “With Friends Like These”

I was on a vine kick last night because what better way to waste your time and stay up horrendously late then by watching compilations of six-second absurdity? Which reminded me that this gem exists:

“Release all the sounds trapped in your mind” only for the grinch to let out this demonic, very relatable screech. That’s me right now, folks. That sound? It’s emanating from my soul.

I don’t even know how to provide a summary of my feelings unless you all are interested in watching this vine on a loop. So let’s just drop straight into the plot.

We start with a black screen, Ruby’s voice-over repeating the message she sent out at the end of last episode, then opening onto the airship with Qrow, Clover, Robyn, and Tyrian. The group doesn’t waste any time. They jump straight into making terrible, idiotic choices that go against their established characterizations. Despite the fact that Robyn announced she had seriously misjudged Ironwood mere hours ago, she immediately takes up Team RWBY’s simplistic stance of, “We can’t let him do this!” Granted, Robyn doesn’t have all the context information that the group does, such as precisely how depleted their tropes are and that the perimeter may have already been taken out. Nevertheless, she just went through an arc wherein she expected the worst of Ironwood---you’re doing something horrific with that tower!---only to be proven horrendously wrong and admit that she’d been wrong. Robyn just held his hand, semblance activated, while he asked Mantle to stand with him in this fight. Like when the group was heading back to Ironwood’s office, Robyn isn’t inclined to even consider that Ironwood might have a good reason for making these decisions. The group as a whole has a habit of jumping straight to, “He’s betraying us??” rather than, “Wow. Shit. Something must have happened back there that I’m not aware of. Because Ironwood has absolutely demonstrated that he never does anything without good reason. I must be missing some crucial piece of this situation if he’s suddenly declaring Martial Law.” (Which, I’d like to point out, is a temporary situation in response to an emergency... which this very much is. Characters and fandom alike are acting as if Ironwood has declared himself King of Atlas or something.) It comes down to the issue of the whole volume: one of trust. No one but the Ace Ops has put any trust in Ironwood, despite Ironwood actually working to earn that trust. A sharp contrast to the Volume 5 group who demanded Ozpin’s secrets without proving their loyalty first. Ironwood does what they couldn’t, proving his loyalty to them time and time again, only to get none of it in return. These people aren’t even willing to consider the possibility that maybe he has a good reason for making these calls. It’s not the outcome they want and is, therefore, “proof” of his antagonist status.

So all Robyn’s growth in regards to Ironwood is immediately erased. Literally in her first line. Despite the fact that Clover starts to remind her of this, defending this assumption that Ironwood is just a crazy doing evil, crazy things (that’s Tyrian btw), but of course he’s interrupted. His scroll chimes, revealing the arrest warrant out on RWBYJNROQ.

Now, I’ve seen a lot of people freaking out about this image since it dropped yesterday, using it as more evidence for how cruel and unfair Ironwood is. “What’s he got against Oscar? Or Qrow? See! He’s just gunning for all of them, regardless of whether they did anything wrong.” Except that Ironwood isn’t stupid. (When the writing remembers that he’s not, anyway.) He is well aware that this group is a unit. They’re joined at the hip. Once Ruby decides something that’s it, everyone follows. Ironwood’s goal coming into all this was never to arrest them. The only reason he decided on that course of action is because Team RWBY made it crystal clear that would work to keep him from saving Atlas at the expense of Mantle. Thus, what he’s aiming for is not truly “Arrest these people” but “Keep these people from standing in my way,” which Ironwood simply can’t accomplish if only Team RWBY is in custody. He knows very well that there are five other people out there who will immediately take up their cause. This might have been a different situation if Ruby herself hadn’t announced across all their scrolls that this is Ironwood’s plan and we have to stop him. That was unambiguously a call to arms: stop him like we’re trying to stop him now. So yes, Ironwood is absolutely going to put out an arrest for Qrow and Oscar as well. He doesn’t know Oscar’s situation with Neo. He doesn’t know that Qrow would be faithful to him---and indeed he’s absolutely not.

As Qrow begins stoking his own anger, Robyn moves from a character I legitimately liked and rooted for to someone I wasn’t at all sad to cut out of the episode via unconsciousness. She’s straight up arrogant here, labeling Ironwood’s choice as an “inhuman plan” despite not knowing what that plan is or why it’s necessary, following that up with, “Looks like he underestimated me again.” Look, I’m not inclined to be all polite and peace-keeping in this recap---RWBY hasn’t earned that---so there’s going to be a lot of salt this time around. I just want to give everyone fair warning in case that’s not your cup of tea. That established, I want to be blunt in saying: get over yourself, Robyn. This has nothing to do with you. She acts as if it’s a personal slight, as if rather than making the hard call to try and save as many people as he can, Ironwood spent last episode twirling his non-existent mustache and thinking up nefarious plans specifically to slight her. The fandom wants to talk about unstable characters? That’s Robyn here. Ironwood might shout and look terrified, but he’s taking the time to think through his actions before implementing them, considering each option before deciding on what he believes is the solution best suited to their survival. Robyn might seem calm and confident, but she’s jumping to conclusions and is the first to raise her weapon, threatening Clover while he’s attempting to approach this issue peacefully. It reminds me of that point in regards to arguments: just because someone is emotional doesn’t mean they’re wrong and just because someone can keep calm doesn’t mean they’re right. Robyn puts on a good show, but she’s more interested in maintaining her former, simplistic view of Ironwood---I knew he was out to get me!---and perceiving personal attacks against her, rather than grappling with what’s actually happening or, heaven forbid, getting more information before aiming an arrow at Clover’s head.

As Qrow joins her in being pissed I have to ask... did he just forget who Salem is?

Because Ruby announced that. “Salem is coming.” I love how the writing just has all the characters ignore what is the most crucial part of this entire dilemma. Team RWBY doesn’t get to spout generic “We can do it!” without acknowledging, let alone finding a way to circumvent, the issue of an immortal sorceress bearing down on them. Same with Qrow here. If anything he should be the most inclined to prioritize what’s actually important in this situation, considering that he’s known about Salem for far longer and has an even better picture of what she’s capable of. But he just ignores it too. Rather then recognizing that Clover doesn’t want to arrest him but has a responsibility to, that Ironwood may well have very good reasons for doing this considering Qrow doesn’t know what the hell his kids have been up to while he’s away, that now is not the time to join in Robyn’s fight when Salem herself is approaching, that allowing himself to be arrested would likewise allow him to speak to Ironwood like he wants to, given how sympathetic Clover is to him and would no doubt take him straight to Ironwood if he asked... Qrow, like the rest of the RWBYJNR group, decides that fighting is the only answer.

It comes down to maturity, something our heroes simply don’t have. Regardless of literal ages they act like children throwing tantrums. The second they don’t get precisely what they want they jump to violence as their solution. If you don’t adhere to my whim then I will fight you until you either agree (Cordovin) or are too injured to stop me (the Ace Ops). No, Yang, you don’t have to fight every single battle that comes your way. Especially when this group is creating those battles in the first place. No one made them launch an attack on Argus in the form of first stealing military property and then choosing to attack Cordovin when she gave them the option of surrendering. No one made them plant themselves in front of Ironwood and give the verbal/body language equivalent of announcing that Ironwood will have to forcibly move them if he wants to succeed. And then when he does that the writing and the fandom act like Ironwood attacked out of the blue, rather than accepting the gauntlet that Team RWBY threw down. They’re violent. They’re callous. They’re arrogant. In two volumes we haven’t seen them display an ounce of compassion or humility towards those not in their little circle, from renouncing the adults in their lives, to ignoring Ozpin, to betraying Ironwood left and right and then acting like he still owes them anything. These people are not heroes and Qrow is very quickly joining them.

I find it hilariously ironic that last week people were screaming over how Ironwood is “Doing precisely what the villains want,” as if it’s possible to make hard, morally complex calls like this without creating division. Salem’s win there is inevitable. It is straight up impossible for Ironwood to do ANYTHING that doesn’t create some kind of discord among the people and his allies. He decides to leave Mantle? Team RWBY is upset. Stick around for a suicide mission? Ace Ops are upset. Refuse to make a decision and demand that someone else shoulder this weight for once? Everyone is upset because how dare you, you’re our leader. It’s a rigged setup---which is precisely why Salem is so hard to beat---so people need to stop acting like Ironwood had an out here that he simply refused to take. But I’m getting off track. That response is hilarious because you know who does do precisely what the villains want while actually having the option not to?

Robyn and Qrow.

Tyrian is literally sitting there laughing over this “show” and hoping that they’ll fight, giving him the chance to escape. He says as much. Please fight. To which Robyn responds, “He’s right. Let’s get this over with” and shoots at Clover.

“He’s right.”

“HE’S RIGHT.”

I don’t know how much more on-the-nose it can be. The villain clearly expresses what he wants to happen, a supposed hero verbally agrees with him, and then does that exact thing. But sure. Ironwood is the one playing into the villains’ hands. All of which doesn’t even touch on Qrow willingly teaming up with Tyrian later on, but we’ll get to that.

Obviously during the ensuing fight Tyrian does get free (who would have thought...) and kills the pilot of the ship. So congratulations, Robyn. Your supposed desire to defend the people just got one of them needlessly killed. That was entirely preventable and extending responsibility past the actual murderer, it’s on her that this guy died.

The airship begins to crash and Qrow... randomly freaks out about it? I’m endlessly confused by character strength in the show. Jumping out of airships is a repeated activity that’s treated as a game. We just watched the group nonchalantly leaving a burning, plummeting, also-had-a-grimm attached to it airship at the beginning of the Mantle battle, but now suddenly one crashing is this super big deal? That Qrow is going to panic about? That manages to take out Robyn? Okay...

Anyway they crash and we segue to Winter. And I just have to say: god bless Winter Schnee.

FINALLY someone with some common sense. As soon as Winter sees the arrest warrant she asks herself, “Weiss... what did you do?” Because yeah! They did do something! Winter is the only character who acknowledges that maybe, just possibly, our precious Team RWBY messed things up. That they’re capable of making mistakes. Unlike Robyn and Qrow she doesn’t jump to, “Oh my god you’re arresting my sister?” but rather keeps her head and acknowledges that if the general who has done nothing but treat her sister with respect and compassion since she arrived now wants her in custody... he probably has a damn good reason for that. This is a switch from the start of the volume when Winter reamed out the guards for putting Weiss in handcuffs rather than first seeing why she was chained up in the first place, but it’s a switch I’m here for.

She and Penny then get into a conversation about choices and demonstrations of grief. Winter points out what I’ve been arguing for the last week: just because someone doesn’t waste time sobbing over a hard decision doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt them to make it, and just because a decision is hard doesn’t mean it’s not the right call under these circumstances. “The general is making hard choices so that we don’t have to. For the good of all, not just the few,” Winter says and I want to reach right through my computer screen and give her a kiss for being the one compassionate, level-headed character right now. Penny, however, isn’t convinced. “I do not see what is good about any of this,” she says, rejecting Winter holding her hands in a way she didn’t reject Ruby doing it (surprise, surprise). It’s notable though that Winter responds with, “On that we can agree.” That right there is the kicker. Just because you’ve chosen the best of two options doesn’t mean either option is good. It just means one is less shitty. Winter is perfectly willing to admit that there’s nothing actually good in this situation, but she likewise admits that Ironwood isn’t wrong for shouldering the lesser evil so that no one else has to. That’s the sort of nuanced perspective we deserved from Team RWBY.

Instead, they’re insisting on a perfect happy ending in a world that they know damn well doesn’t allow for that. There’s a difference between being hopeful and striving for an “impossible” outcome when feasible, vs. allowing that “It’s a perfect ending or nothing” perspective keep you from making any progress at all. Team RWBY would rather watch both Mantle and Atlas burn in their attempts to reach perfection than to admit that sometimes that’s just not possible. They’re Blake, telling Yang that she never ever wants to be put into a situation where she has to kill again while likewise refusing to take the steps---dropping out of the war, not being a huntress, etc.---that would allow for that. She wants impossible things built on a kinder world and while of course it’s completely understandable why she wants that and while it’s heroic to strive for that world in the long-term... none of that means anyone is going to get it right now. They have got to balance pragmatism with blind, hopeful naivety. Especially when there are so many lives on the line. The truly devastating things is we could have seen that this volume. If the story had allowed the group to talk about Salem, reconcile with Ozpin, pool his knowledge with what Ruby knows about her eyes hurting Cinder, allowed Maria to actually function as a mentor, training her, combining this psychologically-based weapon with Ruby’s fears and flaws, allowed for growth... then we could have gotten a fight where instead of the group just going, “We have to try!” they could counter with, “This is how we try. You prepare Atlas for evacuation if necessary. We’ll work on getting everyone in Mantle out, hopefully using my silver eyes as a last resort. If it comes to it? You can leave us behind. But we have to at least take a chance on this to save as many people as possible.” That would have been heroic and can you imagine the possibilities for the future? Salem actually attacking head on only to face the first Silver Eyed Warrior since Maria capable of doing damage. Being so shocked by that that she retreats, re-setting her status as a villain who prefers to keep her distance, immortality aside. The group getting definitive proof that there may be a way to win, even if it’s going to be a long, hard slog to beat Salem’s magic, her army, and her immortality in the long run. The hope is there though, supported through what we’ve seen on screen, and the group manages to save Mantle by working with Ironwood, rather than insisting that Ironwood work with them based on nothing.

Obviously none of that happens. Rather, here Penny is adopting the exact same mindset of the group: hope based on nothing and therefore dangerous. Normally I would chalk this up to her being a robot and not understanding such complexities, but it’s clear she’s meant to be a stand-in for Team RWBY here, challenging Winter as she parallels Ironwood. Everything from the pissed-off tone to pulling her hands away demonstrates that Penny, like Team RWBY, isn’t even willing to entertain the idea of a hard choice. They’re all still Pyrrhas, preferring to kill themselves rather than retreat. Except that in this case they’re insisting that everyone else die with them.

While Penny coldly walks away from Winter the fight between RWBY and the Ace Ops starts... and it’s just as absurd as I knew it was going to be. Please note throughout that, like Clover, the actual adults in the room are the only ones willing to compromise. Harriet makes it clear that she will not start this fight. She emphasizes that an arrest is only “Until this is sorted out...” As established, the only reason why they’re being arrested at all is because RWBY made it clear that they would actively stand in the way of Ironwood doing his job. They betrayed him first---as Elm will later point out---and they all but announced that they will continue to betray him so long as they’re free. You created this situation. Here, that agency is repeated. “We’re not doing anything. They decide what happens next.” You can still walk away from this and accept that you’ve made a mistake. It’s another Cordovin situation. Ruby has the choice to attack an ally or act mature for once and not make things worse... she decides to make things worse.

(Also I despise Yang’s little, “Really?” when Harriet closes down the room like... please lose the attitude. Just for five seconds. I’m begging you.)

Marrow is hesitant as most assumed he would be but he nevertheless stands by his team. Especially once Harriet makes it clear that they’re not going to unduly attack these teenagers. They will only defend themselves. It’s Ruby blasting through the doors that kicks things off, but not before she sets up the “justification” for how these drop-out second years beat the best huntsmen in all of Atlas.

“You were... then you trained us.”

Really? That’s the explanation? A few training sessions beats full schooling and years more experience/practice? I knew the show was going to give us some BS reason for why the group was able to beat what’s quite possibly the most elite team in the entire world at this point, but this is still straight-up absurd. At this point I suppose Team RWBY really doesn’t need anyone else. Adults have never once helped them---we did it all ourselves!---everyone else is always wrong, and they’re the most powerful now, so obviously they don’t even have anything else to learn technique-wise. Good. Great. Thanks, I hate it.

Also, let’s just talk about manipulation for a second. Later on Qrow will accuse Clover of this, claiming he’s manipulating him by saying that he should surrender since Robyn needs help... even though that’s just a straight up fact. Robyn is injured. She does need help, and she won’t get it so long as Qrow insists on picking a fight with someone who does not want to fight him. Even if everyone agrees that Clover is 100% in the wrong for trying to arrest Qrow in the first place, someone’s life potentially being on the line kind of supersedes that. Idk about you all but if someone getting medical help rested on me turning myself in... I’d turn myself in. Clearly Qrow doesn’t give a damn about Robyn if he’s willing to place his freedom over her safety and Clover is right to point that out. What is manipulation though? Ruby’s talk with Harriet. Notice the staggering difference in tone. She’s pure cocky confidence when she announces that the Ace Ops are no longer the best huntsmen in Atlas and then the second Harriet manages to slam Ruby into the wall her entire presentation changes. “You know we need to be working together!” she cries. Her voice is childish again, the arrogance is gone, she’s putting the responsibility on Harriet to “work together” even though Ruby, all of three seconds ago, is the only who rejected Harriet’s offer that they didn’t need to fight. And this only happens when Ruby is in a position where it looks like she’s losing. Oh no, Harriet actually managed to catch me and slam me into the elevator hard enough to dent it? Clearly she won’t be as easy to beat as I thought, so let’s act like a vulnerable kid again begging you to do the “right” thing, instead of a confident huntress starting this fight in the first place... that’s manipulation. Ruby is deliberately changing how she portrays both herself and the situation depending on whether or not she’s getting what she wants, aka winning.

Harriet responds to that precisely as she should: “Don’t give me that crap.”

Really, the whole fight is an exercise in frustration as Team RWBY endlessly refuses to admit that they could ever do anything wrong. Elm shouts that they betrayed them first and all Blake cares about is how they’re betraying the people now. Just swipe our sins under the rug because clearly they don’t matter, to say nothing of the fact that those sins led to this conflict in the first place. Yang snidely announces that, “It’s not worth it, Blake. They’re just following orders” even though that is straight up not the case. You’ve been lying since Volume 5, Yang, so forgive me if I’m not about to take you at your word. Especially when I just watched a full ten minutes last week straight up proving you wrong.

Honestly does Rooster Teeth think we’re not watching the show? That they can just make new claims each week and have us not remember the blatant contrasts that came before it, stuff that they provided? It’s like this every episode now. Whatever we see happening on screen is quickly erased and replaced with whatever Team RWBY believes and I’m so completely over it.

The whole fight is just stupidity incarnate. Not the animation---beautiful there---but everything else is a chore to watch. I enjoy how we get not one, but TWO moments where the Ace Ops announce that they’re not going to hold back anymore... only to then have the group immediately beat them after that announcement. Marrow’s true power is hinted at with, “I’m trying to arrest her, not kill her” only for Weiss to take him out with one shot when he finally uses his semblance. Vine and Elm talk about how they’re going to take this fight seriously now, only for Yang to beat them both easy-peasy immediately afterward. It doesn’t get much more contrived than that. None of the group even needed to help one another, with the exception of Blake and Yang who are, of course, never ever separated (not even in a clear 4v4 battle). I could maybe buy one of the group getting lucky and then two or three teaming up to take out another Ace Op. If Ruby took advantage of Harriet’s exhaustion after the battle and then went to help Weiss take out Marrow together. But no. No one needs any assistance. I mean yeah, Weiss throws up an ice barrier, but it’s clear Ruby didn’t need the help. Especially after getting the cuffs around Harriet. Weiss just hurried things along.

Afterwards the group isn’t even winded and all their auras are intact. It’s insane. And you know what I kept thinking the whole time? Ironwood gave you all those armor and weapon upgrades. Yang relies heavily on Atlas bombs in this fight. Based on Ruby’s comment, their ability to go head-to-head with the Ace Ops at all lies in what they taught them. We’re talking about betrayals? It really hits home that the group’s victory is built on all the trust they were shown by others. The training and the weapons and the resources and the safety and the support and the time to improve their skills. Then Team RWBY turned around and attacked them with it.

We end that battle with Maria and Pietro showing up. Maria, oh so shockingly, turns it all into a joke. “This is the part where they ask us to help.” Team RWBY? Facing criticism, or even just suspicion when caught with a bunch of unconscious military personnel? Nah. Just give ‘em a hand!

The only part I liked in this fight was Weiss’ comment about Mantle being her home. That’s a motivation I could get behind, not just a general, “We can’t abandon the people!” but an emotional attachment to her kingdom that blinds her to the hard realities of the situation. It’s too bad that wasn’t explored further.

We then move onto JNR and honestly? I found this scene to be a bit underwhelming. Granted, I liked the setup between Nora, Neo, and Oscar. Seeing “Oscar” standing in the hallway and smiling in a way that we knew immediately was Neo made for a wonderfully creepy and briefly tense moment. Kudos there.

What I like less is:

1. Not getting to see that initial fight between Oscar and Neo. All his characterization keeps happening off screen.

2. Still no Ozpin. By denying us that first encounter we likewise lost the presumed resolution of Ozpin providing aid, either by speaking to Oscar or taking over the fight.

3. Connected to 2... since when the hell can Oscar survive Neo for an undetermined length of time? I mean seriously. Which is it, Rooster Teeth? Is Oscar still so weak that it’s oh-so-obvious why he wouldn’t help a team of thirteen others fight a geist, or is he so strong he can 1v1 Neo until JNR shows up? Because the discrepancy between those is massive. There’s not even an implication that Oscar just successfully hid from her or something. When he appears he straight up lands a punch on her, despite telegraphing it in the most obvious way possible.

It’s just so, so messy. There’s no consistency at all anymore. Neo can take on a Maiden but gets blindsided by a barely-trained kid all but screaming, “I’m going to punch you now!”? Alright. Sure. I don’t know why I’m even surprised at this point.

So it’s Team JNOR vs. Neo next episode. Obviously if Oscar can handle her himself then the four of them should take her out in an instant.

We return to Penny and Winter where she says, “I hope it’s painless for her,” referring to losing the Maiden during the transfer. Obviously this post is more salt than meta so here, have some more: Penny is an absolute brat here. “You said your personal feelings don’t matter.” I don’t care if she’s a robot, Penny knows enough to understand the situation and realize that a comment like that is just straight up cruel. If she fundamentally disagreed with what Winter said in the hallway then she would have left like Team RWBY. Instead she’s here, acknowledging that even if she doesn’t like this, they’re both making the right call in helping Winter gain the Maiden powers and then retreating from Salem. So don’t twist the knife by implying that Winter is so heartless she doesn’t even care about the Maiden’s comfort. You don’t get to assist in this and drag Winter for the same exact thing.

Winter is astoundingly patient with her attitude, precisely how Ironwood was patient with the group criticizing and yelling at him all volume. She explains that of course she still feels badly. You can wrestle with your feelings while still taking action, something Team RWBY (and most of the fandom) clearly doesn’t get. Penny at least admits that she thinks she understands now, which is more growth in a sentence then we’ve gotten from Team RWBY in two volumes. We also see that Winter does intend to use the machine to transfer the power, something we’re not even sure works yet considering that Pyrrha never got to complete the process (the Volume 3 parallels aren’t at all subtle).

Which is when Cinder shows up. She obviously kills all the guards and blasts through the doors, demonstrating just a small sampling of her power. Penny recognizes her as the one who orchestrated her death and announces that she has “feelings” about it. So it’s a Penny and Winter vs. Cinder fight as well next week. For the record, this is a moment when you don’t back down from a fight. When standing your ground through violence is heroic rather than immature and dangerous. What I’m getting at is: Penny and Winter are best girls at the moment. Level-headed, heroic, compassionate, and when they’re not they learn from that. They grow. Thank god at least some characters are still marginally intact.

All of which finally brings us back to Qrow and the others. 4,000 words in and my fingers are tired, but I’ll attempt to give this fight the attention it deserves lol.

The airship has crashed almost directly below Amity Arena---that’s some kind of setup. Could Watts still be inside?---and, as mentioned, Robyn is rendered unconscious during the crash and clearly needs help. Qrow goes so far as to check her pulse. We get that “manipulation” on Clover’s part which is really just him laying out precisely what the situation is: you can either fight me when neither of us want that, endangering Robyn in the process, or you can accept being arrested, get her help, and we’ll see if we can work things out back in Atlas. “We don’t have to fight, friend,” he says and Qrow scoffs at that. Because remember, he’s Yang’s uncle too. This family never backs down from a fight, even a needless one, and you’re only their “friend” if you do precisely what they want at all times. Otherwise you’re an enemy. Even when there are clearly real enemies standing right beside you.

Now, I’m already seeing absolutely illogical posts claiming that Tyrian manipulated Qrow and... no. Just no. That’s not at all what happened. First off, it’s clear before Tyrian even gets involved again that Qrow is hell-bent on making bad decisions all on his own. As said, he’s prioritizing fighting Clover over getting Robyn help, or dealing with Salem, or literally anything else that’s a bigger issue right now. Qrow isn’t thinking. I mean, what does he even intend to do if he somehow manages to beat both Clover and Tyrian on his own (when he couldn’t even beat Tyrian solo in Volume 4)? Is he going to take Robyn back to Atlas himself? The city where he’s still a wanted man? The city Clover already wants to take him to, even if it’s in handcuffs? What’s he going to do with the serial killer exceptionally skilled at breaking out of his bonds? What’s he going to do with an exhausted or unconscious Clover? Leave him out there in the cold? The cold that both Weiss and our recent heating crisis insists can kill you very quickly without aura? Here is another, beautiful example of our “heroes” emphasizing fighting as the go-to answer without considering the repercussions of that. Qrow doesn’t need Tryian to manipulate him into bad decisions. He’s doing a great job of it all on his own.

When Tryian does arrive though---and for the record him dislocating his thumb was great. I have dislocated my thumb before, folks, and it’s a ride---Qrow WILLINGLY teams up with him. Just like Robyn going, “He’s right” there is precisely zero ambiguity here.

Tyrian offers to work with Qrow to take out Clover and Qrow agrees. Full stop. That’s what happened. He had all the information, all his own agency, and he made that decision all on his own. He literally teams up with the villain to take out an ally. “No wait,” I see posts saying, “Qrow never wanted to kill Clover! He just wanted to get him to stop fighting. It’s not his fault it ended like that...” Excuse me, but what do you think serial killers do? He NEVER could have IMAGINED that TYRIAN might BETRAY him people say, as if that’s not the entire basis of Tyrian’s character. He kills people and laughs about it. It’s his thing and thus there is no justification for trusting him, only stupidity. Which doesn’t even include Qrow just gunning for Clover in the first place. He needs Clover to beat someone like Tyrian---we proved that through a comparison of Volume 4 with last week’s battle---but yeah, sure, team up with Salem’s henchmen to take out your friend, banking on the fact that Tyrian won’t do a single naughty thing along the way and that you will somehow be able to take him out solo after it’s all done. This? This is on Qrow.

I mean it’s mostly on Tyrian for doing the actual killing, I hope people get that, but it’s also on Qrow. When Tyrian says, “You mean like how you just killed Clover?” he’s not just talking about a framing, Qrow left alone with airships landing and his own weapon covered in blood. He set up the scenario that led directly to Clover’s death. He attacked and willfully endangered an ally. He is culpable.

The fact that Qrow is screaming beforehand, “Why couldn’t you just do the right thing instead of the thing you were told?!” while Clover announces that, “I trust James with my life and I wanted to trust you” just makes it all the more worse. RWBYJNROQ has no trust for anyone outside of their own team. Ironwood and the Ace Ops all trusted them and had hopped that they could trust them in turn. Each and every time our “heroes” betrayed that trust horrifically. Qrow’s actions here are the ultimate demonstration of that. Rather than trusting Clover to take him in and working through this situation together, Qrow decides that he trusts Tyrian more. Literally that’s what it came down to. I trust Tyrian to have my back more than I trust you to help me through an arrest we don’t understand yet... and wow. That’s just one hell of a stance to take.

And Qrow then has the gall to blame Ironwood for this. Which just sets my blood on fire. Like full on, “Remember this is a fictional show, Clyde, and tone done the emotional investment” anger. Because it’s not just that Qrow is straight-up delusional here. I mean, I’m sorry, but did Ironwood force Robyn to take a shot at Clover? Was Ironwood out in this wasteland forcing you to put your trust in Tyrian over an ally you’ve spent weeks befriending? No, Qrow doesn’t get to let himself off the hook here. This is precisely the same absurd “logic” the fandom uses on Ozpin in regards to Pyrrha. He never got her killed. Pyrrha chose to go fight Cinder herself, expressly against Ozpin’s wishes. Here, Ironwood did not get Clover killed. Qrow decided to fight him and team up with Tyrian, expressly against Ironwood’s wishes of merely sidelining them until he can get Atlas to safety. So Qrow is lying to himself. Completely. Which could be a really compelling situation wherein Qrow must come to grips with his own guilt and learn not to blame Ironwood for his own choices, except...

The narrative supports it.

Again.

Because Qrow says, “James will take the fall” and Clover smiles a happy, serene smile up at him. Gone is the loyalty to Ironwood---something we saw just seconds ago---and in its place is the non-verbal agreement that Ironwood is at fault for this and yes, please make sure he pays for it.

I honestly stand amazed at how Rooster Teeth can take one of my favorite characters and so quickly screw him up, making me hate him in the process. Like I still love Qrow, but currently it’s in the same way I love the rest of the group: for who they were before Volume 6 and 7 slammed in to butcher everything good about them.

Finally, we need to end on a note that goes beyond just frustration at a web series and into some real life implications: the bury your gays trope. While Rooster Teeth is clearly trying in regards to their queer representation, as of this episode they’ve ultimately done more harm than good. Ilia, as I wrote back in Volume 5, was a terrible introduction to queer characters in a story built around heroic women, drawing not just from aspects of the psycho lesbian trope but “redeeming” her in a matter of minutes to try and distance her sexuality from her status as a villain. Saphron and Terra, while absolutely lovely, are still just minor characters that the story has now entirely forgotten (which, notably, same with Ilia). Blake and Yang are the primary queer ship in the works... but they’re not canon yet. Oh, I believe wholeheartedly that Rooster Teeth is setting things up and that they’re not at all subtle about it---I’m not here to argue that they’re “just friends”---but until we’re given actual, on screen acknowledgment of their sexuality and/or relationship it remains in the realm of interpretation, no matter how “obvious” it may seem to some. Hinting at queerness is no longer an appropriate stand-in for clear representation. Meanwhile, in regards to the men, Rooster Teeth has taken their most queer coded character, Ozpin, and not only crafted his character around the fact that he is endlessly doomed to die, but then wrote him out of the story for nearly two whole volumes, potentially longer depending on how our finale goes. That’s a different kind of “death” in storytelling. Even if we can’t literally kill you off, we can orchestrate a situation wherein we just don’t have to deal with you.

Now, there’s Qrow and Clover. I’ve spoken elsewhere about how in their case I do think there’s a solid argument for “just friends,” but there’s an equal argument for more and the mere existence of that puts a really horrible taste in my mouth when I watch Clover get gutted on screen. Qrow has relationships with other men in the series and they’re not nearly as soft as what he had with Clover. Again, their setup isn’t in the realm of Blake/Yang with obvious hand-holding and massive blushes, but there’s a definite encouragement to at least think about reading them as flirting. Besides Ozpin---which we’ve discussed---Clover is the only one Qrow has quite, philosophical talks with. He’s the only one besides the kids who he teases and gets teased in turn. The final image of them, this one,

pulls from a number of romantic tropes. The partner kneeling by the body of their lover. The romantic colors in the setting sun. Qrow’s skyward scream and his vow of revenge, drawing parallels between other RWBY relationships like Jaune and Pyrrha. Rooster Teeth may not have queer baited with the same callous intensity as some shows, but they welcomed that perspective nonetheless and then killed Clover in a bloody, horrific fashion. That doesn’t leave me feeling like I can trust them as writers, even ignoring everything else the last two years. Especially when they butchered Qrow’s characterization to achieve this. Bad enough you kill off a potential gay, but you do it through a needless fight and one of our most street-smart characters putting his trust in Tryian, of all people? Honestly, shame on them.

The only good thing that came out of all this? The part of the fandom that saw Clover’s death coming a mile away. You all deserve to shout out a massive, “Told you so!” this week because I’ve seen the absolutely visceral hate you’ve received for a well-supported---and now proven---theory. Can’t say I’m surprised the fandom did that to you, but I am sorry. So grab hold of that flimsy sliver lining. I’m just likewise sorry the theory came about in such a dissatisfying, upsetting way.

And that’s it. Next week is the finale. I’m looking forward to it, if only so we can be done with the canon for another year. Because y i k e s.

Until then 💜

#rwby #rwby volume 7 #rwby volume 7 spoilers #rwby recaps #mymetas

137 notes · View notes

princessanneftw · 5 years ago

Text

Livestream the summer solstice: my big survival plan for English Heritage

The charity is set to lose as much as £70 million this year, but its chairman, Princess Anne’s husband, Tim Laurence, won’t be beaten, he tells Richard Morrison of The Times.

Watching the sun rise at Stonehenge on the summer solstice, seeing those ancient stones perfectly aligned to the first rays of dawn; that has to be one of the world’s most magical heritage experiences. In any normal year more than 20,000 people, not all of them card-carrying druids, would gather to see it.

There’s nothing normal, though, about this year. On June 21 the 4,500-year-old monument will be deserted — by government decree. Instead, English Heritage (EH) will live-stream sunrise at Stonehenge. In the words of Tim Laurence, EH’s chairman, it will be a “self-isolating solstice”. And he’s doing his best to put a brave face on it. “For once the stones will be totally peaceful,” he says. “And nobody has to get up at 3am and get very cold.”

True, but if any one event symbolised how much coronavirus has wrecked Britain’s cultural calendar, this “self-isolating solstice” is surely it. That must be particularly painful for Laurence. Just turned 65, he had a highly successful career in the Royal Navy, where he ended up as a vice-admiral. And by the royal family’s eventful standards he enjoys a remarkably untroubled private life as Princess Anne’s husband. He took on EH in 2015 with instructions from government to wean it off public subsidy (which is being tapered down from £15.6 million a year in 2016 to nothing by 2023) and turn it into a self-supporting charity. And until two months ago he seemed to be steering his sprawling new ship very well.

“We’d had five terrific years,” he says. “We now have over a million members. Last year we had 6.4 million visits to our 420-odd sites. And from starting off in a negative financial position when we took the charity on, we had built up a financial reserve. So we were able to invest in some brilliant projects. We spent £3.6 million restoring Iron Bridge in Shropshire, which now looks fantastic and is secure for another century — despite all the terrible flooding on the Severn — and £5 million to build the new bridge to Tintagel Castle in Cornwall, which provides a much better visitor experience.”

Then the pandemic struck. Along with every other heritage organisation, EH closed all its staffed properties on March 19 (though 200 free-to-roam landscapes remained open). “We have to put this into perspective,” Laurence says. “Our problems are very significant, but as nothing compared to the challenge facing the health and care sectors.” Nevertheless, the result of what Laurence calls “putting everything into mothballs” has been, he admits, “a very serious loss of income”. He won’t put a figure on it, claiming with reason that the situation is too fluid, but even if all of EH’s recovery plans go well the charity seems set to lose between £50 million and £70 million this year. And if coronavirus refuses to be subdued, the outcome could be far worse.

In the context of the £200 million loss apparently run up by the National Trust in the past two months, EH’s problems might seem minor. Unlike the National Trust, however, EH doesn’t have £1.3 billion of reserves stashed away for a rainy day.

It didn’t help that lockdown started just before Easter, the precise moment when many heritage attractions traditionally open for the summer. EH has lost not only millions of paying visitors, but also the revenue they generate in its shops and tearooms. Laurence also decided to offer a three-month extension of subscriptions to the million-plus supporters, who are paying £63 a year for individual membership, or £109 a year for a family. “We wanted to thank them for staying with us,” he explains, “and to recognise that they aren’t getting as much value as normal out of their membership.” Probably a necessary public-relations move, especially in view of the reported mass exodus of members from the National Trust, but it put another big dent in EH’s revenues.

Those members haven’t been entirely deprived of EH’s services. Like many cultural organisations, EH has had a big surge in online visitors during lockdown. “Things like Victorian cookery lessons from Audley End [near Saffron Walden in Essex] or dance lessons for VE Day are getting massive attention this year,” Laurence says. So, he hopes, will an 80th-anniversary online commemoration of Dunkirk, designed to retell the story of the evacuation via a daily Twitter feed. That will provide a virtual experience for the thousands who would otherwise have visited Dover Castle, one of EH’s most popular sites, from where D-Day was masterminded.

Yet even the most vivid online experience can’t compensate for the visceral excitement of a physical visit to a dramatic historic site such as ghostly Witley Court in Worcestershire or the gaunt remains of Whitby Abbey. What if EH couldn’t reopen this year? Will there be another extension of membership? “I’d like to think that won’t happen,” Laurence replies. “We have a tentative date for reopening from government, and all our focus now is on getting things going again, rather than fearing the worst.”

That tentative date is July 4, but EH will take things slowly. “Our plan is to open a relatively small number of our staffed sites then, focusing on those that have lots of outdoor space,” Laurence says. “Stonehenge, for instance. The key is making sure that people feel safe, and we are putting in a huge amount of work — in close conjunction with other heritage bodies — to devise procedures to keep staff and visitors totally protected.”

One-way systems for visitors and PPE for staff? “Yes, and limiting visitor numbers, probably by having pre-booked time slots,” Laurence says. “I know it’s a bit of a bore for people, but I think visitors will appreciate the certainty of knowing they can get in. Then it’s about enabling social distancing to be maintained, and very high standards of hygiene wherever people have to touch things.”

Laurence won’t put a date on when a second wave of reopenings might happen. “The thing about the government’s guidance that I am most in tune with is the step-by-step approach,” he says. “We have to see what works and change it if it doesn’t.”

Is he convinced, though, that the public is ready to come back? Recent research suggests a high degree of fear about returning to any cultural activity. “Not everyone thinks the same way,” Laurence says. “What’s clear is that visiting places where there’s a degree of freedom and open air will be much more attractive than enclosed spaces at first. Of course we have a lot of enclosed spaces as well, so we have to find ways of overturning people’s reluctance to enter them.”

Even if people do flock back, however, EH is still left with an enormous black hole in its finances. The government is advancing funds that EH would be due to receive later this year, and there are discussions about bringing forward next year’s grant as well. These, however, are small sums (£8.8 million next year) compared with a possible £70 million loss. Will Laurence be asking for an additional bailout?

“It seems likely that we will be operating under [social distancing] limitations through the whole of this year and possibly next,” he says. “In that case, inevitably, our visitor income will be reduced. If we can’t get the income, we won’t be able to do all the conservation work and projects we’ve put on hold for the moment. Therefore we will have to ask government for more support.”

And an extra two or three years to be added on to EH’s planned transition from quango to independent trust? “That is also a discussion we need to have,” he says.

Could philanthropy help EH through its troubles? In the past five years Laurence has had some success at attracting private money, notably bagging a £2.5 million donation from Julia and Hans Rausing to help to build the Tintagel bridge. The trouble is that, as Laurence points out, “almost everyone who has got money to spare at the moment is thinking first about supporting health charities and care homes”. The Rausings’ recent decision to give nearly £20 million to charities tackling the pandemic is an obvious case in point. Nevertheless, if EH is to get back on track as an independent charity, it needs those big donors on board as well as the subscriptions of its million members.

Laurence spent his final navy years in charge of the Defence Estate, responsible for nearly 2,000 historically important buildings and monuments, so he was well aware of the challenges of conserving old buildings before joining EH. Even so, he admits he was a “slightly strange choice” to be its chairman. “I’m not an academic, not a historian, not an archaeologist,” he says. “Yet in some ways I represent a lot of our members. I’m a fascinated amateur. I absolutely love the history of this country. I love the sites we look after, and the story each tells.”

Tells to whom, though? The biggest challenge facing the whole heritage sector is arguably an urgent need to widen its demographic appeal. Can Laurence, in many ways the ultimate establishment insider, relate to that? Can he recognise that EH, like the National Trust, has an image problem? The perception that it’s a club for white middle-class people?

“There’s an element of truth in that,” he admits. “We are putting a great deal of effort into appealing more to — I hate using these categories — BAME [black and minority ethnic] people, who represent something like 14 per cent of the UK’s population. We have made a very strong statement by recruiting two outstanding representatives of those communities to our trustee board: David Olusoga [the historian] and Kunle Olulode [director of Voice4Change England]. They are helping our gradual transition towards being more appealing to non-white people. The important point is that we reflect not just the bricks-and-mortar history of England, but waves of immigration into this country over thousands of years. We have a story to tell to everybody.”

EH’s online output can be accessed through english-heritage.org.uk

#tim laurence #timothy laurence #dunkirk #english heritage #british royal family #brf

33 notes · View notes

the-odd-job · 5 years ago

Text

So... What if Megatron really was captive at the same time as Sideswipe, and they met?

I was told it’s good to be self-indulgent sometimes (like I’m not that way all the time), so enjoy. The what if.

Misery Breaking

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions of Violence Category: Other Fandom: Transformers > Merformers Characters: Megatron, Sideswipe Relationships: Megatron/Sideswipe Additional Tags: Captive Mers, First Meetings, Violent Sex, Sex Related Injury, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse Words: 2877

Sideswipe has a new tankmate. He really wishes he didn’t.

The first thing he noticed about the new mer was his size. He was easily twice Sideswipe’s own mass, maybe more.

The next thing he noticed was that the humans seemed scared of him. They brought him in, drugged out of his mind by the looks of things, and left the scene as soon as they could. The door closed behind them, and soon after Sideswipe could see them crowding behind the one glass wall of the tank.

Caution and curiosity warred. This was another mer, so... Curiosity, because it was a member of his own species and he dearly, dearly wished for more of those. The solitude they’d forced upon him wasn’t as beneficial as the humans seemed to think it was.

But caution, because it was a stranger, one significantly larger and stronger than him.

Sideswipe hung back while he waited for the beached mer to come back to his senses, occasionally popping his head above the surface to view the ledge they’d left him laying on. Based on the time it took for the other to resurface from his haze, Sideswipe guessed they had been generous with the sedative.

Because they weren’t sure how much a mer that size needed, or because of something else? He didn’t know, but he hoped the stranger’s scales wouldn’t dry out too badly before he was well enough to slip into the water.

It took about an hour, but eventually, finally, the stranger began to rouse. It was small things first, a twitch of fingers or a tail, or fluttering eyelids. Sideswipe followed the process carefully. Little signs turned into bigger signs until the stranger was trying to push himself upright, arms shaking from the aftereffects of the sedative.

But after that it was only minutes before he managed to drag himself off the ledge and dove headfirst into the water.

Sideswipe put as much distance between them as the tank allowed him to as the big mer sank to the bottom to wear off the rest of the drugs. He looked a lot less out of it than Sideswipe had expected, though. The red eyes were sharp when they roamed the tank, eventually landing on Sideswipe.

And Sideswipe had never quite felt as much like prey as he did then.

But the eyes moved on from him without paying him too much mind. That was... Probably a good thing. For some reason he didn’t want to be the center of the stranger’s attention.

Something just... Made his skin crawl.

Sideswipe swam a small circle in the farthest reach of the tank as he waited for the other to get his body back under his control. It didn’t take too long, after that. Before Sideswipe knew it, the stranger had started to swim, a little carefully at first, before he came to trust that all of his extremities were cooperating. Sideswipe knew that feeling.

He had to admire the other mer, though. His shades of grey weren’t exactly eyecatching, but his size sure was. His strength was obvious in every ripple of his muscles, every sway of his tail. And those eyes. He still didn’t pay Sideswipe much mind, but every time that gaze came his way, Sideswipe got that feeling again. Like it was in his best interest to play very, very nice with this one.

Danger.

And he couldn’t exactly run away from it.

So he continued to keep his distance as the other started to circle the tank, attentive to every corner of it. Exploring, not that there was a lot to explore, or a way out, if that was what he was looking for. The humans kept observing, though Sideswipe wasn’t sure what they wanted to see.

And when nothing happened for the longest time, aside from the big mer swimming around and Sideswipe avoiding him to the best of his ability, the humans’ numbers started to thin. It was late into the day anyway, many of them were probably leaving for the night.

When there were only two left, Sideswipe decided to risk it and introduce himself to the other mer. Chances were they’d be stuck with each other for quite a while, so the best he could do was hope for cordial relations. That decision made, Sideswipe narrowed the distance between them, but only so much that he wasn’t even by accident intruding on the other’s personal space. He knew how big those bubbles could be from his brother. “Um, hi,” he started, and suppressed the wince when the red eyes snapped to him.

Why did this feel like such a bad idea? “I’m Sideswipe. It’s... Nice to meet you?”

Not one twitch of expression from the other. Sideswipe resisted the urge to fidget as he waited for something.

What he got was a calculating look that roamed over his entire body, and it was the absolute worst feeling to be on the receiving end of it.

He couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting.

“Megatron,” the other mer eventually said. His voice was deep and gravelly, making it feel as if the water was vibrating all around him. Very pleasant, honestly.

It was also disinterested. Sideswipe felt some relief at that.

And that was the end of their conversation, apparently. Megatron shifted his attention away and continued swimming and circling the tank, leaving Sideswipe a little confused in the middle of it.

They were supposed to be a social species. Granted, Sideswipe’s experience with other mers that weren’t his brother was exceedingly limited, but even so he wasn’t prepared to be dismissed so thoroughly.

He couldn’t help but feel it was still the best outcome, though. And he should... Probably respect the other’s indifference. He couldn’t see anything good coming out of an attempt to push the matter.

But he felt a little awkward. They were stuck together and apparently were just going to ignore each other, even though they could barely even leave each other’s field of view.

If that’s what Megatron wanted, though... Sideswipe went back to giving the other mer all the space he could, watching as the last of the humans left. The lights started to slowly sim, signaling that nighttime was indeed approaching.

But Megatron wouldn’t stop swimming, and neither did Sideswipe dare to stop in fear of getting in his way, or otherwise turning up too close to him.

It was dark aside from the small nightlights when Megatron finally deigned to acknowledge his presence. “Sideswipe, hm?”

The mer in question jumped at the sudden words, turning around to face the approaching giant. “Yeah?” he asked a little uncertainly, terribly skeptical he wanted the attention. There was an edge to that voice he didn’t like one bit. Megatron kept approaching, and without trying to be too obvious about it, Sideswipe kept retreating just enough to keep a safe distance between them.

“How long have you been here?” Harmless questions, right? Maybe Megatron was just genuinely curious and had changed his mind about obviously not wanting to make friends.

Why did Sideswipe have the feeling that wasn’t the case?

“Since before I was a yearling,” he nevertheless answered honestly, and the subtle widening of Megatron’s eyes did seem sincere.

“You’ve never been out of this tank after that?”

“Never.”

Megatron kept coming closer and the disquiet Sideswipe felt kept growing larger. “How sad,” said the grey mer, and slowly Sideswipe came to the realization that he was being herded against one wall of the tank. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it was the one leading to the ledge, which meant he had one direction to escape to if it came down to it.

Leaving the water didn’t particularly appeal to him, but neither did staying there with Megatron.

“Yeah, well, sometimes it be like that.” Sideswipe went for casual with a rueful grin, trying to diffuse the situation. Things were quickly growing tense. Mostly from his end; Megatron seemed perfectly relaxed if it wasn’t for the twitching of his tail. Sideswipe could recognize that gesture easily, having been guilty of it more than once himself.

Frustration.

Frustration was bad. Sunstreaker flew into rages because of it.

He didn’t want to find out how it affected Megatron.

“You’ve never wanted to get out?” Megatron asked. So innocuous still, but Sideswipe’s back hit the tiled wall.

And he really didn’t think Megatron would just let him swim away. He had the reach to stop him, being so much bigger.

Sideswipe’s heart began hammering and the dread grew almost unbearable. This had to be bad. There was no way it was good. Those piercing eyes had pinned him down, their focus unwavering.

“There’s no way out,” he whispered, and he was sure the both of them knew it wasn’t just referring to leaving the aquarium anymore.

Megatron’s face split into a fanged grin a second before he growled, “Come here.”

Sideswipe took that as his cue and turned around to pull himself onto the ledge and away from the danger he now deemed certain.

Before he was halfway out of the water he felt a big hand wrapping around his tail, sharp claws sinking into his flesh before he was yanked back underwater. “Didn’t I say come here?” Megatron snarled over his pained cry, grabbing his arm and pulling him against an intensely muscular chest.

Under different circumstances Sideswipe was pretty sure that might’ve been titillating. Right now it was only terrifying.

“Let go of me,” he growled right back, fighting against the grip on his arm.

But it only tightened until it was a bruising vice. The ease with which Megatron kept him still was frightening and Sideswipe felt his heart hammer a mile a minute, so prepared to run away.

Except there was no escaping the claws that dug into his aft and pulled his lower body against Megatron’s.

And that was about when Sideswipe guessed exactly where this was going. He began to struggle in earnest, but his own strength was pitiful in comparison to Megatron’s. The claws only dug deeper, the grip on his arm only firmed. “Let go of me!” Sideswipe repeated shrilly, this time this side of desperate.

Megatron had the audacity to laugh at him. “No, I don’t think I will,” he rumbled, a grin showcasing rows of sharp teeth.

Sideswipe let himself panic a little when he felt something nudge up against his stomach. A brief glance down confirmed it was indeed Megatron’s member, and Sideswipe couldn’t withhold his sob at the size of it. Megatron was proportional.

And Sideswipe knew he wouldn’t make it out of this in one piece if Megatron got his way. He showed no interest in Sideswipe’s comfort.

He writhed in Megatron’s hold, forcibly ignoring the pain from the larger mer’s claws and the red that was beginning to saturate the water around them. His struggles were good for nothing, though, Megatron was far too strong and determined. He didn’t seem to even feel the rending from Sideswipe’s own claws, his best attempts at finding sensitive areas he could attack.

He switched to begging.

“Please please please don’t, I’ll do anything, just don’t-!”

Sideswipe’s words broke into a scream when Megatron lifted him enough to nudge against his opening and sunk in as deep as he would go without any preamble. His slit burned with the searing sting of a too sudden, too large penetration, and a gush of red escaped into the water around them.

But that was nothing compared to the pain deep inside, where Megatron violently rammed into his cervix.

And he wasn’t even all the way inside.

Megatron growled in frustration at that fact while Sideswipe was still too dazed to even try to do anything about it, and before he knew it, Megatron had pulled him back only to shove himself deep all over again.

He’d never hurt so much. He couldn’t find his voice, silently gasping when Megatron moved both of his hands onto his hips and began fragging him in earnest, pulling halfway out only to drive himself back in with no heed for the amount of pain he was causing.

It was beyond him to even try to fight the big mer anymore, and Sideswipe merely grasped onto the arms holding him, hanging on for dear life. Megatron didn’t react any more than he had before when Sideswipe’s claws dug into the grey skin; it sure as pit didn’t dissuade him one bit.

“Yes,” Megatron hissed lowly, one of his hands leaving Sideswipe’s lacerated hips. He had a delirious moment to think where it might’ve gone before it wrapped around his neck, tilting his neck back and blocking his gills in the area. “Look at me.”

He wasn’t sure when he’d closed his eyes, but out of fear of further retaliation Sideswipe obeyed, meeting a hungry red gaze. “I was alone for too long. It was very kind of them to give me such a pretty plaything.”

It was half a laugh and half a sob that broke past the hold on his neck. He knew he was attractive, him and Sunstreaker both were.

If he wasn’t, would this have happened?

Megatron’s grip tightened when the massive mer’s eyes closed and he focused on ravaging Sideswipe’s body. Sideswipe did his best to ride it out; there was little more he could do.

He wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Red was streaming from his slit, barely hindered by Megatron’s breadth, and the pain kept growing like he didn’t think was even possible.

Then Megatron struck in one more time, only to stiffen and tighten his hold on him so much Sideswipe wasn’t sure his head wouldn’t be cut from his shoulders. He grit his teeth together when he felt with agonizing clarity something shoot into his depths, scorching along the abraded lining of his channel.

He could smell blood everywhere. That was really the only thing he could smell anymore, the water red all around them.

Sideswipe was half surprised he was still alive, and even more surprised he was still conscious. His internals throbbed when Megatron pulled out and Sideswipe sagged in his hold, relief washing over him.

It was over. He was hurting like he hadn’t thought was possible, but he was alive.

Then Megatron laughed. “Oh, I’m not done yet, little one.” Sideswipe’s eyes snapped back open, wide as saucers as he stared at the bigger mech, who was once again grinning at him. “Please,” Sideswipe begged quietly, his voice raspy from the grip Megatron had on his throat.

“Begging for more? My, aren’t you a brave one,” the grey mer laughed. Despair kept Sideswipe from trying to correct him, not that he thought for a moment Megatron had mistook his plea for anything other than what it was.

One hand remained on his neck, the other moved to his side, and then Megatron swam them both to the bottom where he pinned Sideswipe against the floor. Sideswipe struggled weakly, but he hurt far too much to be any kind of opposition to the larger mer. Megatron purred at him, passing his gaze over his supine body as if he was admiring his handiwork---bleeding wounds, bruises that were slowly discoloring his skin, and a gaping, bleeding slit.

Sideswipe wanted to cry, but even that seemed beyond him.

Megatron shoved back inside and Sideswipe’s mouth opened in a silent cry when the agony began all over again, his body shaking from the pain as Megatron started to drive himself in and out. Against the bottom of the tank it felt even worse when his body was pushed to the unyielding floor with every thrust. The angle of Megatron’s penetration was even worse than before, hitting an all new locale of pain that made his ears ring, deafening him and trapping him inside a body being torn apart from the inside out.

There was so much red.

He barely twitched this time when he felt another hot burst of Megatron’s spill, fighting against the black creeping up on the corners of his eyes and debating if it wouldn’t be better to just give in anyway.

But he didn’t want to know what Megatron would do to his body if he lost consciousness.

He wasn’t sure he’d even wake up again.

Megatron pulled out and Sideswipe directed his hazy gaze to watch the other mer swim away oh so casually, as if nothing had happened.

As if he hadn’t done anything.

So. That’s why he’d had a bad feeling from the start.

He wanted to laugh, but his mind was far too numb.

Sideswipe fought back his cries when he pushed his upper body upright and slowly dragged himself to the nearest wall of the tank. He curled up against it, wrapping his arms around his middle, as if that would ease the pain at all. Red continued to gush from his slit, and for the first time in his life Sideswipe wished for the humans.

But there were none around, this time of the night. They’d come in the morning, though. They’d come.

He just wasn’t sure he had that long.

“Sunstreaker, I’m so sorry,” Sideswipe whispered to himself before he finally gave in to the pain and desperation and let the black overwhelm him.

#merformers #sideswipe #megatron #megaswipe #very unhappy megaswipe #heed the warnings #seriously #fic #2020 #captive mers

23 notes · View notes

starstruckteacup · 5 years ago

Text

Cottagecore Films (pt. 11)

A Little Princess (1995)

starring Liesel Matthews, Liam Cunningham, Vanessa Chester, Eleanor Bron

synopsis

I was extremely disappointed in this film, to put it lightly. The story itself was beautiful, but that is thanks exclusively to the novel on which it was based. The movie itself utterly failed to convey the magic and timelessness of the book. The acting was flat, emotionless, and forced at every point, from every actor (except for maybe Cunningham, but he was absent for half of it). One would think a gaggle of girls would have some form of natural chemistry, whether pulling them together or apart, but not a single child actor portrayed even the remotest semblance of a relationship to another. (Note: I describe in my review of Pan’s Labyrinth what quality acting from a child looks like, for reference.) Even Matthews and Cunningham could not pass a believable father-daughter relationship, despite the story being about that. As far as emotional acting, the adults were just as bad as the children. They couldn’t even feign a single moment of joy, sadness, or anger, regardless of the context. I actually laughed for the entire scene during which Sara nearly died because of how bad the acting from the adults was. At least Chester seemed somewhat worried; Bron and the nameless police officers stood around so vacantly it looked like they forgot what was happening. I really was appalled by the abysmal acting, especially when so much was handed to them in the story. I want to preface my next point by saying that yes, I know computer animation was still a work in progress in the 90s. But this was horrifyingly awful. I have never once, not in my entire life, seen CGI as terrible as the monster in Sara’s stories. I nearly gave up on the entire movie within the first five minutes because of that monster. And it kept showing up, which absolutely ruined whatever favor I tried to hold for this movie. If you don’t have the budget, which this film clearly didn’t, don’t try to animate a monster. It’s that simple. I wish I had more words for it but it was truly so atrocious that I’m at a loss. Any good will I hold for this movie is due to my fondness for the story (no credit to the film), the settings (while not exceptional, they were fairly pretty), and Liam Cunningham’s acting. 2/10

Elizabeth: The Golden Age (2007)

TW: blood, mild gore, torture, racism against indigenous people

starring Cate Blanchett, Geoffrey Rush, Clive Owen, Abbie Cornish, Jordi Mollà, Samantha Morton

This film is the sequel to Elizabeth (1998) (see part 10 of my film reviews), which continues the story of Queen Elizabeth I as her rule progresses. Tensions between Catholic Spain and Protestant England grow ever greater, escalating to treasonous plots and assassination attempts. Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, and King Philip II of Spain conspire to depose Elizabeth and place Mary on the throne, restoring Catholicism as the national religion. Even as these events lead to war between the two superpowers, the court provides no sense of stability as new faces and new stresses surround the Virgin Queen. She forms a strong friendship with the pirate Walter Raleigh upon his return trip from the New World, where he seeks to establish colonies under the English flag. However, his stay is extended greatly when Elizabeth’s selfishness and pride take over, and are only broken down in the face of battle when she puts him at the forefront of the British navy. Outnumbered, Elizabeth will need Raleigh’s loyalty and cunning, along with the unwavering loyalty of her people, if they wish to survive the Spanish onslaught.

While still a drama, this film proved to be much more war-oriented than its predecessor, but I’m not sure it did either as well. I liked the deeper look this film gave us into the Elizabeth’s mind, especially with her social and emotional conflicts. They remind us that she is still human, despite the somewhat cold appearance the first film gave her at the end. She is more mature, and even more prideful, but there’s still a limit to what she can take as a person. I think the first film gave a better portrayal of her complicated mind, but this was a solid continuation of what years of ruling can do. I also liked how much detail they put into Raleigh’s character, which the first film didn’t do as well with its secondary characters. We got to know more about him, even if he did still feel somewhat surface-level. I think the dramatic aspects could have felt more high-stakes than they did, especially for the characters who were actually in danger. Even though so many characters were actively committing treason, I only felt that level of tension with one: Mary Stuart. Her death was particularly elegant and laden with symbolism, and even though I knew the outcome historically the scene still delivered the anxiety it was meant to. The others simply didn’t have the same delivery. Even the assassination attempt didn’t project any kind of concern, regardless of one’s historical knowledge. The war focus was a fairly different take than the first had, which I appreciated. The film established a strong balance between the tensions in England, Scotland, and Spain, and did a good job making the stakes very clear for each group. Given the uncritically positive stance on England that this film takes, I would have expected the film to villainize Spain a little more to form a stronger dichotomy between the two rulers, but Spain was presented rather neutrally to the audience. The Spanish ruler and nobles didn’t have much character, despite being the antagonist. As for that uncritical positivity regarding England, I do have a bit more to say. Although to an extent it makes sense that the film would lean in favor of England, given its content and the point of view from which the story is told, it became overbearing at times. England could do no wrong in this film, despite children dying in battle, indigenous people being humiliated and dehumanized for show, talk about slavery, and a complete disregard for the suffering of non-white and non-Protestant groups. In contrast, the first film heavily criticized England, from Mary of Guise shaming Elizabeth for sending young children to war, to Elizabeth frowning upon Walsingham’s torture methods (granted she never stopped them, but she didn’t approve as readily as she did in this film), and so on. Although England in truth did all of these things without rebuke, the film could have handled it more gracefully and came across less like propaganda, at the very least. 5/10

Loving Vincent (2017)

TW: suicide (action offscreen, death onscreen)

Sensory Warning: movement of the impressionistic paintings can be very disorienting for those with sensory processing difficulties. I had to break from watching multiple times so as not to become ill.

starring Douglas Booth, Eleanor Tomlinson, Jerome Flynn, Robert Gulaczyk

This fully hand-painted animated film follows Armand Roulin, a young man with a severe temper, on his way to deliver Vincent Van Gogh’s last letter to a living recipient. When he reaches the town where Vincent died, he begins speaking to a variety of villagers with their own stories about the artist, and their own theories about how he died. Armand tries to piece the puzzle together, wondering if the death was not a suicide as claimed, but rather something more sinister.

This film was spectacularly breathtaking. The amount of work that went into painting every scene was awe-inspiring, and definitely sets the bar high for any other films of its kind. The team of artists that created this film represented Van Gogh’s unique art style exquisitely through their loving application of oil-based paints, and truly brought to life the emotion he put into his works. I wish I hadn’t struggled so much with the constant movement, as I feel I would have been able to appreciate the film in its entirety better, but as it was I struggled to pay attention to the story because the art style consumed too much of my sensory processing capabilities. As for the story, I thought it was interesting, but I found it lacking despite the incredible artwork. Foremost, after some cursory research, I discovered that the homicide theory on which this film was based was only acknowledge by one individual, and spurned by hundreds of others. Although the film leaves the verdict open-ended, both to Roulin and to the audience, the story itself seemed to lean into the homicide theory, then completely give up on it with no resolution, so it came across as fairly noncommittal. I won’t argue for or against the theory, as I don’t know nearly enough about Van Gogh to assert an opinion, but I’m somewhat unsettled by the amount of weight it gave to it without any kind of evidentiary support, only to dump it as if the writers changed their mind themselves. The pacing was also slow for a murder mystery, which is basically what the story turned out to be. I would much have preferred the film to cover Vincent’s life, or even the days/weeks leading up to his death, instead of only featuring him in other people’s flashbacks. This kind of existential impressionism should capture the life of its creator, not the mundane views of people who didn’t understand him or even hated him. There wasn’t anything wrong with the film, per se, but I wish the writing was given as much love as the art was. 7/10

Part 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10

#cottagecore #gardencore #naturecore #flowercore #cozycore #historical drama #period drama #art film #film #film review #movie #movie review #activities #mine

16 notes · View notes

bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

Note

How would you go about a good Spyral Dick Grayson storyline? I like the idea but not the execution (if it was stated he was acting like an idiot I'd like it better). Also in the same vein how would you do DickTiger/how do you think it'd work?

I’m side-eyeing you a little anon, lol, because I’m not sure what you mean by it’d be better if it was stated he was acting like an idiot. Because see, as far as I’m concerned, nothing about Dick’s actions was out of character....so long as you center Bruce’s actions as the real driving force behind Dick ending up stuck undercover at Spyral. Dick’s actions make perfect sense....as the fractured attempts at recuperating from a massive trauma without any semblance of a support system or any time or space to actually dedicate to acknowledging and accepting what he’d just been through before leaping right back into danger.

It remains extremely troubling to me that even WITHOUT taking into account Bruce’s victim blaming him for his own death, emotional manipulation and physical beating...all of that only stacks on top of what should already have been the takeaway, IMO:

And that is that its absolutely ridiculous to think that Dick could have remotely been emotionally and mentally composed enough to make an informed, non-coerced decision about undertaking the Spyral mission AND keeping it from the rest of the family.....mere days after being extensively tortured and then briefly died.

He wasn’t in a sound state of mind to make that decision with full awareness of all the implications and repercussions like he would have at other times. Nobody would have been.

And the rest of his family might not have known about him dying, but they did know about him being tortured for days and then unmasked, since they literally saw that on TV....and they know, post Dick’s return, that Dick had been in place undercover before his funeral was even held...the same week he was thought to have died. It should have been obvious to a family of geniuses that all choices made in a matter of days after being tortured and unmasked and who knows what else might have happened offscreen that they could only know about by ASKING him about his ordeal instead of jumping straight to punching him for the choices he made while in the immediate aftermath of massive trauma....like, point is, even without knowing he died, there was always more than enough info they were privy to that there’s no real excuse for their response to his return being judgment instead of concern for how the hell has he been coping with all of that, out there all on his own without anyone he could fully trust, let alone unburden himself to.

None of them spared a single thought for what any of that had been like for him, because they were too focused on their own hurt, and I’m always going to be pissed about that, lmao.

Anyway, apologies if none of that was anything you intended with your word choice, but to be perfectly honest I need very little excuse to go off on a rant about how even the rest of his family’s response to that storyline was like, fundamentally flawed.

NOW. On to your actual question! Because I do have an answer as I’ve thought about this particular thing a LOT, and my ire at both the Spyral storyline and the amnesia storyline coalesced into conjoined seething frustration because of how EASILY they could have avoided making all of the Batfam seem shitty, EVEN BRUCE, and like, also avoided them driving Dick further away rather than bringing him back closer to the family.

All you gotta do....is smash those two stories together and do them both at the same time.

LOL, a few months ago I actually literally wrote out a whole post outlining it in detail here:

https://bigskydreaming.tumblr.com/post/187334221591/if-dc-had-just-combined-their-spyral-and-amnesia

And I’ve copied and pasted the content of that post below the cut here too, just to keep it all in one place for convenience.

As for Dick/Tiger - that’s a whole other post I don’t have time to get into at the moment, but in a nutshell, I’m hugely a fan of their pairing but in specific ways...I mostly see them as each other’s angsty kinda ‘the one that got away, that they could never shake how they got under their skin, but can’t find a way to actually be with, longterm.’ Because the thing is, so much of their dynamic and interactions with each other were clouded by the layers of deception they both wore at all times, and how many different lies they had to tell in service of their whole reason for being there, and how much of themselves they had to hide.

Like, I tend to picture them as kinda both wistfully thinking if they’d met in another life, in another way, without all the cloak and dagger and lies from the very start...they could absolutely be happy together. But as it is, there’s no getting around that they both feel in any kind of relationship, there’d always be some part of them, even if just deep down, that was always keeping an eye open for a crack in the other’s mask, a sign that once again, they were not what they professed to be.

So I see them as being very much that spy vs spy trope, even after Dick goes back to vigilantism and civilian life and even when he and Tiger are theoretically on the same side.....like, I could see them having very emotionally charged, physical, almost desperate kinda encounters in secret whenever they’re in the same city or whatever....because they’re past denying that there’s definitely something between them, always has been, probably always will be...but without even talking about it, just with mutual understanding and implicit agreement, they always know these encounters are just for the night....and then its back to reality. With them thus becoming a kind of escape and fantasy for each other, all rolled up in one and thus inevitably romanticized even further within their own minds...

But they’re also both very pragmatic people, and used to taking what they can get and making the most of it. Its nice to picture the could-have-beens in a world where they met under more honest circumstances, but they live in this world, and here, this is what they can make of what they have, this is what they can make work. So its not all terrible, because if they both ultimately decide this is one of the better outcomes resulting from where they began, which neither of them can change...then it becomes more possible to appreciate what they have for what it is. Even if its not ideal. Or conventional. Or even forever....because I think they both are prepared for it to end if either one of them meets someone who can give them those kinds of nights and still be able to be there in the morning...

But none of that means that what they do have isn’t real, isn’t significant, isn’t as powerful and worthy in its own way as any more conventional relationship.

After all, neither of them are conventional people. They wouldn’t even have met if they were, making a lot of those might-have-beens a moot point. Probably wouldn’t even be as drawn to each other if they were other than what they are, because so much of their dynamic is tangled up in their respect for each other’s skills and convictions and more along those lines.

To be honest, I imagine both of them value and prize each other’s acting ability, their skills with deception and subterfuge....even as those are the very things at the root of why they’ll never be that conventional, longterm couple.

Because it keeps things even between them, and thus even when lying to each other’s faces, there was still an honesty to their dynamic, a balance. Neither is burdened by excessive guilt for deceiving the other, because they both were doing it and they understand why. Thus even when outright deceiving each other, there’s a weird kind of balance there that wouldn’t exist in relationships they had with others who couldn’t match what the other brought to the masquerade, so to speak.

Idk. I have a lot of thoughts on them obviously, lol, and totally meant that all to be another post but got carried away as usual, but I’ll leave it on that note for now, lmao.

How To Make The Spyral Storyline Work (If You Ask Me, which someone literally did so I can get away with saying this).

Ahem.

So. If DC had just combined their Spyral and amnesia stories into one, instead of like the mess we got, we could’ve actually had a good story.

Like, literally all you gotta do is back during Forever Evil, find some way to separate Bruce and Selina from Dick’s body BEFORE Luthor revives him….so Bruce too is of the belief that Dick’s dead, and Luthor being heralded as the one who saved the day from the Crime Syndicate protects him from Bruce or the Batfam’s reprisals.

Then all you gotta do is…instead of Dick getting amnesia like a year later from being shot in the head by KGBeast….Dick gets amnesia from complications in how long it took Luthor to revive him. And of course Luthor capitalizes the HELL out of this.

And then, you can pretty much do everything the same….without it being ANYONE in the Batfamily’s fault, or anyone taking anyone for granted?

You can still have Dick go undercover in Spyral, be Agent 37….only now its on Luthor’s orders, because Dick woke up with no memories and all he knows about himself or like, anything, is whatever Luthor tells him.

And he knows SOMETHING’S not right about everything, like, something’s off about the person he feels like he is and the person Luthor claims that he is, but Luthor’s savvy enough that he’s not forcing Dick to do anything that might trigger some buried memories or built in moral resistance to an order, he’s invested in keeping Dick as fully cooperative for as long as possible, because he knows Dick will be way more effective if he’s on board with stuff than actively fighting things. So Luthor has Dick sold on the idea that he’s infiltrating Spyral on behalf of the good guys, like Dick thinks he’s fine with doing morally gray stuff but isn’t full on trigger happy so Luthor doesn’t force him to kill people on his behalf and thus Dick’s time in Spyral and his character conflicts with Helena, Tiger, etc, remain largely the same.

And meanwhile, Dick’s in the dark about his real identity and past because not having any clue he’s alive, the Batfamily reluctantly has been doing their best to bury details of the late Dick Grayson, no matter how much they hate it, because they have to worry about the living members of their family and try and distance themselves from Dick post being-unmasked, so nobody connects the dots to all of them.

And then of course, eventually one of them runs into someone who reminds them suspiciously of Dick on a case, like his face is still all swirly because of the Hypnos implants but he says or does something that’s so quintessentially Dick Grayson that they can’t NOT wonder. Because here, Dick doesn’t KNOW to tamp down on his natural quips and banter or mannerisms around the Batfamily, and so they give him away even as he remains faceless, and there’s not really any way Luthor could have seen that coming or prevented it, without like….scripting everything Dick says or does in every possible encounter he has, which of course is impossible.

And so THEN ultimately, you can have one or two Batfam members pursuing possibilities that Dick’s alive on their own, and then eventually comparing notes and realizing Dick really IS alive, what Luthor must have done, and that Dick didn’t come home because Dick literally doesn’t remember where or what home is…..

And then whammo ka-blammo, its Fully United Batfamily To The Rescue as they basically just invade Spyral and blow it to Kingdom Come whilst convincing Dick that he’s their brother/son/friend and belongs with them and Lex Luthor is a lying liar who lies, SEARCH YOUR HEART, FEEL YOUR FEELINGS, YOU KNOW WE SPEAK THE TRUTH and blah blah blah et cetera et cetera et yada yada.

And nobody ever has to read Tom King and Scott Lobdell’s like…..*gestures disgustedly in the general direction of their utter tripe*….That.

33 notes · View notes

super-success-core · 4 years ago

Text

Tips for Living the Life of Your Dreams

When I ask this question, I'm not inquiring why you are in the location you're in, or why you are in the city you're in, or even why you are in whatever country you're in.

I ask the question, because I'm wondering why you exist at all?

In the fall of 2003, I released a book I wrote called The Why Are You Here Café. It is a fiction story of a man who wanders into an all night café and is surprised to find three questions on a menu. Why Are You Here? Do You Fear Death? Are You Fulfilled?

I am not so arrogant now to think that I have the answer to how anyone except for me should live their life. I do know though, that there are certain things I've learned that help me think about life in a different way. There are things that I wish I had learned earlier in life, things that I reflect on often and that continually give me a boost and help me on my journey to achieve the life of my dreams.

My hope is that in sharing those things with you, they will in some way assist you on your journey to live the life of your dreams.

1. Know your Purpose For Existing (PFE), or at least be looking

Your Purpose For Existing is exactly what it says. It is the reason you exist, the reason you are alive. It is the answer to the question I asked you at the start of this article. Why Are You Here?

Your PFE is like your own personal compass for life. Should you go to New York City and become a commodities trader? Go back to your PFE. Why are you here? Should you travel the world as a peace corp. volunteer? Go back to your PFE. Why are you here? Should you stay in a relationship you've been questioning? Go back to your PFE. Why are you here?

In addition to taking a great deal of the stress out of decision making, it also takes a lot of the anxiety out of everyday life. You don't have to justify to yourself or anyone else why you do what you do. You know the answer. You meet someone and they say, "Hi, what do you do?" You respond, "Oh, I teach yoga," or "I'm an insurance salesperson," or "I'm a chiropractor." "Interesting," they say, "what made you go into that line of work. "Well, it helps fulfill my Purpose For Existing," you respond. Wow! That is a powerful statement. You do what you do because it helps you fulfill the exact reason you exist. It doesn't get much simpler, or more powerful than that.

2. Fear is a terrible thing; don't let it control your life.

Someone once told me a great quote about trying something new. He said he had been battling with fear for a long time until one day his friend told him, "Listen, realistically what's the worst that could happen." I think that is great comment to remember. We are often paralyzed into non-action by the concern that something drastic might happen. But the reality is that almost any decision we make or action we take can be changed if we don't like the outcome.

We can almost always go back to whatever it was we were doing before we tried something new. Furthermore, what are the odds that the "worst thing" will happen? It probably isn't likely at all, and yet that remote chance keeps us from doing the things we want to do.

My major "Aha" moment which enabled me to get past my fears, came one day when I suddenly realized that there are very few things that have not already been done by at least one, and probably thousands of people. Certainly everything I was attempting, other people had already tried and succeeded at. Well heck, I thought. If they could do it, so can I.

It is likely that whatever you are trying to accomplish in life, someone, at some point in history, at some spot in the world, did it, and proved it could be done. If they could do it, so can you.

3. Either we can live as a speck of meaningless existence, or we can live a life of meaning

Have you ever been somewhere on a very clear night when you could get a great look at the stars? You were in a place nice and dark without any local lights distracting your eyes. How many stars do you think you could see with your naked eye when you looked across the whole sky? It seemed like millions I bet. The sky seemed just packed with stars. Well, the reality is that the immense quantity of stars you see on a totally clear night when there is no outside light is actually about 3,000.

To put that number in perspective, keep in mind that in our galaxy alone, there are 100 billion stars. Now, our star, which is the sun, has 9 planets and 54 moons that rotate around it. Using our star as a proxy, that means there are 6.3 TRILLION stars, planets, and moons floating around in our galaxy. So what you see on a perfectly clear night, that immense amount of stars and space, is around .00000005% of everything in our galaxy. Amazing isn't it. Now consider this. That is just our galaxy. Do you know how many galaxies there are? Scientists estimate there are over 500 million of them.

So with all that as perspective, how important are our individual lives in comparison to the entire universe? It is pretty easy to see how someone could think that they are just a speck of meaningless existence. Certainly we are all just specks in the big picture. But suppose we aren't meaningless. Suppose there is a specific purpose that each of us is here, a reason that we exist right now that goes beyond just sperm met egg and nine months later out popped a little you or me.

I believe there is a reason. I believe we each have a specific Purpose For Existing, or PFE as I like to refer to it. My suggestions is, find that purpose. Fulfill that purpose.

I've had people say to me, "But what if you are wrong?" "What if I think I have a PFE, and I live my life like I do, but I really am just a speck of meaningless existence?" My reply to that is always the same. If we find what we think is our very purpose for being alive, our purpose for existing, and we live a life to fulfill it, then by default, we will have given meaning to our life. What has meaning, can no longer be meaningless.

4. Realize something is fulfilling because we decide it is fulfilling, not because someone else tells us it is.

There are a lot of people out there trying to get you to buy things, and they will tell you almost anything to get you to do it.

Do you know how much money was spent on advertising in the United States last year? The answer is a staggering $124 billion dollars. The goal of those expenditures is to get you and me to buy things, and advertisers are getting more and more savvy about how to do it.

For example, they have learned that memory and emotion are significant factors in whether or not a customer has brand loyalty to a product. So they review brain responses of test subjects who are shown advertisements, to see if a particular advertisement invokes a reaction from the emotion center or memory center of the test subject's brain. That way they can tell if the advertisement will stimulate long term brand loyalty for a particular product. Can't you just see that? Someone is walking down the street, they pass a billboard, and suddenly have this tremendous, compelling, yet unexplainable urge to buy lottery tickets.

Are we to that point yet? No, I don't think so. Will we get to that point? I don't know. The point is, marketers and marketing technology are, and will continue to, make it harder and harder to sift through all the noise so that we can form our own perspective on things.

The challenge is to realize something is fulfilling not because someone tells us it is, but because we individually determine it is fulfilling. Does love really come in the form of diamond earrings, which say "You love her and would marry her all over again"? Does self worth and empowerment truly lie in owning a particular automobile? I personally don't think so in either case, but don't listen to me anymore than you would listen to the advertisement. You decide.

5. Be thankful for and leverage the advantages that come from living in this country

We have some amazing opportunities at our fingertips simply because we live in this country. Now, I don't know about you, but all I did to get these opportunities was pop out of the womb in what turned out to be a very fortuitous spot.

Do you know how much the average college graduate in Myanmar (formerly Burma) makes? They make 10,000 Kat per month. That is about $12.00 U.S. How about the average college graduate in China? How much do you think they make per month? That number is 1500 Yuen, which is just under $200.00 U.S.

Now salaries of that magnitude are enough for those people to function in their country's respective economies. In all likelihood though, those people will never be able to travel and see the world. They just can't afford it. But we can. We have the financial benefit of a strong currency compared to the majority of the world.

In this country we can get an education, and we can go out and get a decent paying job. We think unemployment is really getting bad when it hits 6%. In places in South Africa it is over 40%.

As a country we have our fair share of problems. When you get outside the borders and travel to other places, you see things that make the U.S. look like paradise. We have freedom. We can say what we want, buy what we want, become what we want, travel where we want, and for the most part the only thing we did to get all this, is pop out of the womb in the right geographical area. We shouldn't take it for granted.

6. Look at the little picture, but with a big perspective

People often say, look at the big picture. I say look at the little picture, but with a big perspective.

Do you know what life is? Life is actually a day multiplied by about 27,500. Sometimes it is less, hopefully more, but usually around 27,500. The easiest way to make sure we have a life we enjoy is to make sure that each day we do something we enjoy. I'm sure this sounds simple to you. It took me decades to figure this out.

Doing something you enjoy each day is an example of looking at the little picture. But keep in mind the big perspective, which is what is your PFE? What is it that you want out of life? Why are you here?

Here is an example of little picture and big perspective. Do you do some form of work for at least 20 minutes each weekday? Do you go to a job, work from home, something? How about this. Do you wake up each weekday and stretch for at least 20 minutes?

Ok, different question. What is more important to you, health or money? Would you permanently trade the ability to walk up a flight of stairs in exchange for money? Would you permanently trade the ability to take a bike ride along the beach, garden, lift up a grandchild, play sports, or go fishing in exchange for money?

Then be careful about how you spend your time each day, because making the decision to head off to work 20 minutes early, or spending an extra 20 minutes at work, instead of taking 20 minutes per day to stretch, is a slow version of trading those abilities.

We have a propensity as a society to spend all kinds of time on other things, and when we are good and tired and barely have the energy to say hello, then we go interact with those who mean the most to us, or spend time on ourselves. This is the fast track to finding yourself feeling like a complete stranger with the people who mean the most to you, and yourself.

7. Seek out near life experiences

At the age of 28 I began to have near life experiences. Have you heard the term near death experience? That is when people survive a heart attack, or almost get hit by a car and they get this tremendous sense of lucidness about how short life is and how they should give some thought to how they really want to live it before they don't have a life to live.

Well, at 28 I started to have those revelations without the potential for a trip to the emergency room. I started to have near life experiences.

Near life experiences are the times when you are doing exactly what you want. You are enjoying life, you are having the exact experience you want out of life, and because of that you feel truly fulfilled with the life experience. Near life experiences (NLE's) can come from something as simple as hugging your significant other or as complex as achieving a particularly difficult goal you set for yourself. They come when you are fulfilling your PFE.

When you are having a near life experience, you are absolutely and completely happy. It is the most amazing feeling in the world.

Find those moments for yourself and figure out how to get more of them into your life every day. Experience so many of them that you get to the point where you insist on having a life full of them, a life where you fulfill your PFE.

Have them as soon as possible, because the fantastic thing about experiences, especially near life experiences, is that the sooner in your life you have them, the longer you have to reap the benefits. What you learn at 20, 35, or 50 can be applied for a lot more time and to a lot more situations than what you learn at 85. Even better, the experiences build upon each other. Once the insights start coming, they create this fantastic foundation of knowledge upon which everything else rests.

8. Choose your own metric of success in life

When you have spent time in other countries, and then you come back to the U.S., you realize just how strongly our culture equates success with money. How much do you make? What kind of car do you drive? How big is your house? These are all money based metrics.

If we choose that as our metric, that's fine, just so long as we make sure that we chose it. And when we are deciding what our metric will be, we should keep in mind that money is not the only one. The amount of time we spend each day doing what we want, our degree of fulfillment with life, how happy we are, how much love is in our life, and many others, are also metrics for success in life.

Evaluate them closely because the metrics we choose become the driving force for our actions.

9. Act like your life depends on your decisions, because it does

Have you ever been in a discussion where you were debating what to do, and someone said, "Well what would you do if your life depended on it?" It really puts things in a different perspective doesn't it? Now all of a sudden it is more important. MY LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!!!

Well, in reality, our life depends on the decisions we make every day. Whether or not we achieve and experience what we want out of life is entirely dependent on our daily decisions.

Have you ever heard the term "The Big Five"? The big five is something that you hear all the time when you are on safari in Africa. It stands for rhino, elephant, buffalo, leopard, and lion. People are always asking, "Have you seen the big five? How many of the big five did you see? Where were the big five?"...

I think we should adopt this term for our lives. The Big Five for Life will be the five things we absolutely want to do, see, or experience in our life. The things that on our deathbeds, we will look back on and go, yeah, I did my Big Five for Life.

Wouldn't that be a great conversation starter? "Hi, I'm John, and you are?..." "Nice to meet you. So, what's on your Big Five for Life list and how can I help you fulfill them?"

Although they can be, items on the Big Five for Life list don't have to be things that are one time events. For example, number one on my list is to have a lifelong loving relationship with my wife. It is something with a non-defined end date. As long as I am here, it is on the list.

The reason I think this would be so fantastic is because we often forget to act like our life depends on our decisions. We get into a pattern and pretty soon we have all these reasons why we can't go do the things we want.

Make your daily decisions as if your life depends on it, because it does.

10. Choose to work on things you are passionate about and you will always be passionate about what you are working on

Here is a statistic you may find shocking. It shocked me. In an average week, including the two days of the weekend, a person will spend over 52% of their awake life either at work, getting to work, or on work related activities at home.

Over half of our awake life is spent on work. Now that is something to keep in mind when we are making decisions about what type of work we want to do. "I am choosing to give half of my life to the pursuit of whatever this job is."

If you are going to spend 52% of your awake life on work related items each week, you might as well choose to work on something you are passionate about. I know this can be challenging. We live in this interesting world where people value experience at something over much more important skills like aptitude, general intelligence, drive and many more.

Nonetheless, think of it this way. If there is something else that you have always wanted to do, but lack experience in, every day you don't go do it is a day less of experience you will have. You might as well get started right away.

John Strelecky is the international best selling author of 'The Why Are You Here Café.' In its first 10 months his book had sold in 14 countries and set the world record for the fastest sales on all seven continents. Through his book, articles, speeches, and appearances on television and radio, he has positively impacted the lives of millions of people.

1 note · View note

sssuperbartola · 5 years ago

Text

There’s a fine line between condescension and encouragement from your parents but most of the time it’s hard to distinguish them because of the projections we’ve held upon them since we were young and naive. The more you grow, the more assertive these behaviors start to appear to you and you find yourself asking if this is what it has always been in your family: passive-aggressive eye contacts/remarks, sudden spurs of guilt-tripping feelings, the fear of speaking up for yourself, the mere, insignificant topic brought up at dinner table turned into a heated debate for no apparent reason but making it about he/she being wrong.

It starts slow and in small portions. The first attempt always draws more of it against you or your closest member, and then you can’t stop. You can't stop because you simply don’t know better or there’s no one else there to make you understand the mistakes you’re making. You find yourself in a position where you hold a powerful motive in your hand to dictate your rules, only you have it and only you can use it, but no one taught you how to. Because no matter how old, how prepared or how familiar you feel with it, parenting can’t be taught. There’s no correct way to be a parent and more often than ever, you have to figure out the best route for your life on your own.

From our part, you’re too little to understand your parents’ decisions, you’re too old to even care and decide to turn your eyes and ears away from it, thinking it’s the best solution. Simple comments like “At your age I wasn’t complaining about that” or “If I could’ve done it in your place, this would’ve never happened” just don’t account for a life-guiding help. We are led to think they’re too fossilized on their own perspective and that they will never understand ours, and both parts will each have their own conclusion: it’s the other’s fault.

I recently finished my summer exam session and up until my last exam, things went exceptionally well and I had a good feeling about my performance. I made sure to contact my parents for every exam done and for every result handed out because I felt it was the right way to do it. They were both interested in how I handled my academic career and were trying to encourage me throughout it. Then, the last exam came around. It went terrible. I managed to pass, but it felt like a kick in the gut for how long I’ve prepared for that occasion and for all my previous effort. To whom the blame might concern is not the priority, in this case, the outcome was unpredictable regardless how familiar I was with the subject and the professor, but the disappointment was there, I felt it heavily on me and the first thing that crossed my mind was “how am I supposed to tell this at home?”. Not anger for how poorly it went, not my grade average being affected by it, but only the reaction of my parents.

I wasn’t thinking about myself, I wasn’t trying to make the disappointment go away, I was mustering up the courage to call home and deliver the news. I felt bad, I felt suffocating, I didn’t want to do it but I had to. I had to do it because it was only a matter of time they asked me and me being the anxious ball of bones and meat I am, I couldn’t handle the pressure and I couldn’t lie.

I called my mom first. She is the most receptive and understanding of the duo, shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I called on the verge of tears, ready for whatever was waiting for me on the other line, but thankfully the call didn’t last long, we exchanged some “it’s fine” and “it’s ok, don’t worry about it” and then we said goodbye.

I didn’t call my dad. Maybe it was a mistake, but I already knew what was waiting for me this time. The fact it was a subject he was very familiar with and that he held on deeply made it worst to face his judging. Maybe it was a mistake to call him only for the good things, but that’s what made me avoid a scolding when coming back home. I hate his scolding, they’re mostly unprompted and they hurt where it shouldn’t hurt. Whenever he talks and gives his won opinion, it cuts through your whole chest, he doesn’t stop until you fully understand the failure you are or the mistake you did. You can’t escape it, it’s always your fault. No matter what.

I figured my mom would deliver the bad news with me being far away. I delayed the inevitable to help me get over my bad grade and relax with friends to clear my head. Summer was finally beginning for me after 2 whole months of non-stop studying, I was going to take full advantage of the time left. The departure day arrived. I got home, we have dinner and he’s there. But he doesn’t say anything. I figured he either had still no idea or he just had a very full day at work and wants to plug off for a moment. The very next day, it hit. I woke up very late because being finally on vacation means no alarm in the morning to study, no plans, no worries. I arrived at lunch still sleepy and not very hungry, but the policy at my house is that you have to stay around for lunch, no being a hermit and leave to go to your room, it’s family time at noon.

My dad notices my disheveled looks and makes a remark about it. I simply state “I’m finally over with exam, now I can take some mornings off to sleep”, and then he goes for the hit. “Maybe you should take your days off to retake studying to do better with your exams, shouldn’t you, “18”? [the grade 18 is the corresponding grade for Italy’s university grade system of a C/C-; the max is 30 (A/A+), he called me the grade I took at the exam] with the last word, he fully turns to me with such a cold, harsh look on his face. He’s unimpressed, he’s angry, he’s disappointed. He didn’t fail to make me notice it. I simply stared and stayed silent. I went over this conversation too many times now that I just can’t bring myself to try explaining myself or to make him understand what went wrong. He then proceeds with “I could’ve taken the exam myself at this time with the few things I remembered from class and I still would’ve taken more than you, you that had weeks to study that. Maybe even taking compliments from your teacher. Bah...unbelievable”. At that point, I lost my appetite, got up of my seat and left. I didn’t go too far (the rule of lunch gathering was still valid for me), I stayed in the living room, I had to stay away for a while.

He was already angry, as he always is when lunch comes, for his won personal reasons, we can easily tell by now. He doesn’t separate being angry at work from being angry for personal stuff, so if he’s angry, it’s our problem really.

That episode happened lots of times already, and it will keep happening. I know that for sure, because that’s the only reaction I can get from him at every mistake, at every downfall.

I’m not surprised anymore. I’m not disappointed anymore. I’m still sad, but, what can I do? It’s been my father figure for all this time, put some hopes in him and aspired for his approval like every little kid does, it’s gonna take a while for me to completely shut my emotions away, for now.

All this long post - I know - to say this: don’t let this toxic behavior affect you. It seems taken for granted, but for some people, it’s still a huge obstacle for their own happiness and achievements. Don’t let these words hurt you. Mistakes happen. You’re human, we’re all human. We need to come to terms with it because otherwise, we will never let ourselves take a break, we will always see the dark side of our actions, the unfulfilled task, the daunting, minimum error in a large scale of successes that will hold us down like a chained ball.

Whatever you accomplish today, it’s a huge step, no matter what. If you haven’t heard it already, i will say it for you: you did your best and you still made a difference, you did a good job. It’s gonna be ok. Keep it up, and remember

I’m proud of you

9 notes · View notes

creepingsharia · 5 years ago

Text

Texas: First Known Convicted Terrorist Asked For ‘First Step Act’ Early Prison Release

“This law was hastily passed and needs to be revisited before people start getting hurt.”

via @BensmanTodd

...

This past May, Bureau of Prisons Inmate No. 9627173 – Plano, Texas wife and mother Sumaiya Ali – asked a federal judge for early release from her terrorism sentence under the First Step Act. It is the first such case that I know of, but if this has occurred once, more are likely in a pipeline emptying out potential terror recidivists into the nation, a prospect about which I wrote that we are not well prepared for as a homeland security matter. This law was hastily passed and needs to be revisited before people start getting hurt.

Ali was convicted in 2017 for lying to FBI counterterrorism investigators along with her husband, Mohamed Ali, that they had no idea their two sons Plano Senior High School graduates Arman and Omar Ali, traveled to fight with ISIS in Syria (neither have been heard from since). This was an all-in-the-family ISIS affair about which I wrote more fully in this March 2019 column.

It can be argued that Sulaiyman Ali hits the threshold of nonviolent activity on behalf of terrorism. But buried in the court files, the evidence indicates that both parents were fully supportive of violent jihad for their sons on deeply held religious grounds, gave their influential blessings that the boys kill infidels for an ISIS caliphate, and possibly even planned to join or visit them in the region until the FBI prevented them from boarding a plane at Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport.

Dad got about a year in prison for wittingly covering up what he knew about his sons and was released at his scheduled time April 17 of this year into a halfway house, according to BOP’s public inmate locator. But mom took an additional 30 months for lying longer and harder. She won’t be released until April 13 of next year from the FMC Carswell facility in Fort Worth, Texas. This seemed more than Ali wanted to stand.

Shortly after the December 2018 First Step Act implementation, Ali asked U.S. District Judge Marcia Crone for early release (wrongly, it later turned out). In a January 8, 2019 letter couched as ”a desperate plea of a mother,” Ali asked to serve the remaining sentence on home confinement or in a half-way house. As grounds, she cited the emotional struggles of her “withdrawn” and “embarrassed” 14-year-old daughter Sabeen, who is living with her brother and sister-in-law in Houston, ashamed her parents were in prison and that her older brothers were fighting overseas for a barbaric cause.

“She has lost her whole family and finding it very hard to cope with this traumatic situation…She is the innocent victim of the terrible choices that I made, and I take full responsibility for her predicament,” Ali pleaded, in part.

Tailoring a Claim to Fit First Step Act Provisions

To better grasp what Ali is trying to do, It will help to know something about the two main provisions of the First Step Act, both of which apply retroactively to already-sentenced people. One provision addresses the front-end reductions for the old mandatory sentences for repeat drug traffickers. Sumaiya Ali is hoping to tap the other provision, as outlined in Section 3632, part D, that would allow removal to alternative spaces for up to a third of total sentences. These are granted among other rewards to inmates who can demonstrate they have participated in “recidivism reduction” programs.

Processes not being very well ironed out yet, Ali asked the wrong person for the break: a federal judge, rather than Bureau of Prisons administrators. In May 2019, Ali filed a second request to Judge Crone for the law’s holy grail of release to a half-way house or to home confinement. The two-page legalistic letter seemed to hit the necessary right chords. For example, Ali asserted that she had been a model prisoner with an excellent work history while incarcerated, and was a nonviolent first offender.

She listed some dozen or so adult-education classes she took in jail: Forbidden Tombs, In the Womb, Untold Secrets of the Titanic and Modern Marvels, among them.

“A final question arising for this honorable court to answer would appropriately be whether (it) would encourage the individuals who successfully participated in correction self-improvement and rehabilitation program by granting these individuals downward (sentences), and in so doing, boost the confidence of the participants in their improvement and skills letting them become more productive members of society?”

Down But Possibly Not Out

Judge Crone, however, correctly ruled that she had no jurisdiction to shorten Ali’s sentence or change where she serves it; the Bureau of Prisons does.

“Moreover, to the extent Ali asserts that the First Step Act of 2018, Public Law Number 115-391 mandates that the BOP release her to a half-way house or home confinement for any period of time, she is in error,” Judge Crone concluded. “Under the current version… ‘the BOP is authorized to consider placing an inmate in a community correctional facility…Consistent with the forgoing analysis, Ali’s motion is DENIED.”

Nothing else in the court file indicates whether she has pressed her case with BOP, but it seems highly likely that she has. We will no doubt know the outcome of that only after an early release.

More importantly, the Ali case stands as a strong first indicator that those convicted of terrorism-related crimes are eying the First Step Act and that anonymous BOP bureaucrats have the unchecked power to grant them benefits as they evidently have to those convicted of explosives-related charges and sex offenders.

...

...Congress and everyone involved in the decision chain should remember that bloodshed terrorism is only made possible when non-violent supporters provide the incitement, recruitment, moral support, finances, ammunition, and guns that make the killing possible.

Read it all.

#Legal #Jihad #Islam #Sharia #News #Politics

5 notes · View notes

vanessawritesstuff-blog · 6 years ago

Text

You might be broken, but so am I

It had been a long, long damn time since Jesse had been this pissed off. Anger wasn’t the only emotion surging in his chest, there was also worry, fear and anxiety. Hanzo has been avoiding him ever since their last mission together, and it had thrown Jesse through a loop. Actually, Jesse had downright been a mess. So much that other Overwatch members started to ask about him and his relationship with Hanzo in particular. The two were dating for a several weeks now, after a long time of mutual pining where both of them refused to believe their feelings were reciprocated. A long time alone made it hard for Jesse to believe someone would be interested in him, while in turn Hanzo didn’t believe that anyone could love a man that ‘killed’ his brother. Granted, Jesse didn’t really like Hanzo in the beginning. The archer was rather arrogant in his abilities, sometimes to the point that it became hard to bear. It didn’t help that Jesse was close to Genji since the days of Blackwatch, which made it harder to trust Hanzo in the first place. It was because of Genji however, that Jesse slowly opened up to the archer. If the cyborg was ready to forgive his brother and focus on the future, who was he to linger on the past? Their relationship was good. Mostly. It was only after opening up to each other that Jesse discovered that behind the arrogant and confident facade, there was a lonely and broken man. Hanzo might consider himself the most broken of the pair but Jesse too, had his scars and problems. One example was his affinity to whiskey. For how often he drank it, one should expect that Jesse would know his limit a little better. Sadly, he did not but at the least Hanzo understood him in that regard, having a similar affinity to sake. The two had started to bond over and thanks to the alcohol, so it couldn’t be all that bad. Or so Jesse told himself. The second example was his short temper, which he had particularly after missions. A nasty side-effect of the deadeye ability was that Jesse suffered from excruciating migraines the next day or two. Angela’s medicines helped him function but the irritation was bubbling under his skin and he was easily triggered. It had led to a few arguments here or there, nothing too bad or too serious. Jesse knew he wasn’t perfect, but he was damn well willing to do everything he could to become a better person and to learn from his mistakes.

So when Hanzo decided to avoid him for no apparent reason, Jesse was not only hurt but also angry. There was a constricting tightness in his chest, yet at the same time, it felt as if it was on fire. Since he had used deadeye in their last mission, it wasn’t a great moment to confront the archer about it. The throbbing head and sensitivity to noise, among other things, didn’t make him very patient and open to sensible arguments. It had been two days though and Jesse was sick and tired of being left in the dark. If he did something wrong, or if Hanzo didn’t want him anymore, he deserved to be told in his face. To Hanzo: 21:30:43 If ur done with me, just fking tell me Han

Jesse sighed after he pressed the send button. After calling the man several times and being ignored, he didn’t know what to do to get his message clear. They really needed to talk and behave like adults, which sometimes was a lot harder than it sounded. Jesse didn’t want to keep avoiding the rest of his friends either because he wasn’t sure what their relationship status was right now. For the first five minutes, Jesse stared blankly to his phone. The hope that Hanzo would text him back, started to seep away. “God dammit!”Jesse punched a nearby wall with his fist, his good one, before disappearing into a long, steaming hot shower. When he came back, Jesse didn’t even bother to check his phone. Sitting in his window, he smoked one of his cigars and took a big gulp of whiskey. It soothed some of the pain but it could never take it away. Just when Jesse was about to rest, he looked at his phone and blinked. From Hanzo: 22:10:14 Meet me at the roof. Usual spot. From Hanzo: 22:30:32 I am here. Jesse quickly glanced at his clock. 22.50. Shit. He scurried out of the bed and dressed half in his room, half in the hallway. There was nobody out here to see him and it was mostly quiet, aside from Hana who was streaming one of her games with her fans. Judging by the ‘gg’s’ and the ‘you have been D.nied!’, she had another win. Out of breath and a little sweaty, Jesse glanced around at their usual spot. It was quiet and cool here, secluded but close enough to the others in case of an emergency. The pair used it to meet for drinks and to share stories and kept doing so well into their relationship. From his room, Jesse had ran non-stop so he could get here as soon as he could. Why didn’t I check my phone earlier?, Jesse cursedly thought to himself. Immediately after, he thought, why am I feelin’ guilty for somethin’ I didn’t cause in the first place?! At the location, there was nobody to be seen. His shoulders hung, low and defeated. This might have been the only chance to find out what was going on but the opportunity has passed. Was this going to be it? “So you came after all.” Jesse turned and looked around to see where the all too familiar voice came from, only to see Hanzo sitting a floor lower than usual. “Well,” Jesse shrugged, “Yeah, I’m the one that has been tryin’ to contact ya so …” It was hard to hide the frustration and pain in his voice and he was pretty sure he did a terrible job of it. He could see Hanzo visibly tense in his shoulders but the archer’s head did not turn to meet him. “Goin’ to tell me why you’ve been avoidin’ me lately?” Hanzo hummed, and Jesse wasn’t sure if that was to confirm or deny his question. “I...I’ve been having doubts. About us, lately.” The archer said, his voice hardly even faltering as he spoke. Jesse’s heart sank into his stomach. It was something he had been afraid of, since their first day together to be precise. Who would want to be in a relationship with someone who had so many issues? On the surface, Jesse looked like a happy spirit. He was smiling, charming and surrounded by friends. Who each, without exception, seemed to adore and trust him. Yet, deep inside Jesse was afraid of being alone again. Afraid of being reminded of his own past, of betraying the trust his friends had in him and last but not least, of losing his head to deadeye. He tried to say something, but a lump in his throat prevented it from getting out. Jesse really thought that Hanzo might be the one that he’d spend the rest of his life with, for how long that would be with Overwatch. There was an uncomfortable tension and silence in the air, until Hanzo’s voice sharply cut through it. “When you pushed me aside during our mission, and overexerted yourself by using deadeye, I knew that…”, Hanzo’s fists where clenching on his lap and Jesse watched him with emotional eyes. “..that I am not worthy of you.” The cowboy’s body tensed in shock. Did Jesse hear it right? He blinked his tears away, his face straining to comprehend. “I am not worthy of your commitment. I should not even be here. All my life, I’ve have searched for redemption and honor, but I am beyond redemption.” The brows on Hanzo’s forehead furrowed. “Hanzo..”, Jesse said softly, not harder than a whisper. “I have still not come to terms to what Genji has become, all because of my doing. How you can accept me is beyond my understanding, but you deserve better.” “Han-zo..”, Jesse said, a little louder this time. Hanzo continued forcefully, “You should not lower yourself and bring yourself in danger to be with me. You - “ “I decide whoever I deem ‘worthy’ of my protection and affection by my own!” The cowboy nearly yelled. The archer’s mouth stood open, mid-sentence, as it was now him trying to comprehend what was being said. “Hanzo,” Jesse said with a sigh, moving closer and jumping down with a little thud to sit next to the archer. “I know it hasn’t been easy for ya here. With Genji, gettin’ accustomed to Overwatch and all that..” It hadn’t been easy for Jesse either, right after the recall. It was very different from the way Blackwatch operated and while Jesse was good-willed, even his trust had to be earned by all the people he didn’t know. “But.. I’m serious when I say I want us to work. I...I want this to last. It’s not like ain’t got my own issues either. If things are botherin’ ya, please, just talk to me. Last few days really hurt…” Hanzo looked at Jesse for the first time tonight, the archer’s heart clenching in his chest as he saw what kind of suffering he inflicted on the man. “Jesse,” his voice crackled with emotion this time, “I can only hurt you more. It will be best if - “ “Stop tryin’ to tell me what’s best for me!” Jesse said with frustration. “Y’don’t get to decide that. Just accept me, and how I feel about ya for what it is. I chose to protect ya and use deadeye, I chose to be with ya and I’ve been happier than I’ve been in years.” It remained silent for a moment after that, Jesse taking some deep breaths to calm himself while Hanzo seemed to let the words sink in. “Really…?” Hanzo’s voice sounded soft and filled with disbelief. Jesse gave a soft sigh. “Yeah, sugar. Ya help me to keep goin’ and try my hardest to be my best self. And I hope I do the same for you, and if I do, then I think it’s best for you if y’allow me to stay by yer side.” Hanzo’s lips curved into a very little smile, though his eyes stared back at his own lap. It had never been his intention to hurt Jesse, but Hanzo was convinced this was the inevitable outcome of their relationship. Perhaps, it was better to learn how to communicate though Hanzo wasn’t someone that easily changed his convictions. “I...I apologize for worrying you. I...I haven’t been seriously involved with anyone like this before. The clan didn’t allow me to waste time on such matters and I…” A thumb tilted Hanzo’s chin, turned his head so that Jesse could lean in and press a kiss on his lips. It was soft, sweet and soothing and both men felt their worries melt away. Jesse’s touches always had the knack of doing so and Hanzo nearly forgot why he was so conflicted in the first place. “S’okay, darlin’.” Jesse said as he broke away from their kiss. “Ya might be broken, but so am I.” Hanzo chuckled at that. “Yes, perhaps…” Jesse smiled, warmly and tiredly. His arm wrapped around Hanzo’s waist and for a moment they did nothing but silently lean against each other and taking in each other’s scents and presence. It was getting harder for Jesse to keep his eyes open however. He caught himself dozing off, snapping upwards as he startled himself awake again. He had no clue how much time they spent here, but it was time to get their well-deserved rest. “Let’s go call it a night for now. I don’t know ‘bout you but I’m mighty tired. I’ve haven’t slept so well these past few days…” Jesse said admittedly, implying the fact that he, and Hanzo, slept alone these last few nights. “Hm.” Hanzo said in that familiar cocky tone of his, albeit with a hint of sleepiness. “Let’s change that, then.”

#mchanzo #mccree #hanzo #fic #overwatch #2kish #alittlelongerthanIexpectedoops #badatcommunicating #bothboysaresobroken #insertingsomepersonalheadcanonsaboutdeadeyehere #isthisangst?#Iusuallyonlywritesappyshit #happyendingthough #mybullshitwriting

58 notes · View notes

humansofhds · 4 years ago

Text

Johnna Loreen, MTS ′18

“I’m glad that in recent years prison scholarship and activism is coming to the forefront so that people have to see it and listen. The more that we can empower people who are impacted to be part of that movement, the more likely people will have to reckon with these truths.”

Johnna works as an education navigator, advocating for and advising people who want to start or continue their education upon their release from incarceration.

Falling Down the Rabbit Hole

My path to prison education began in a course on policing with Professors Aisha Beliso-De Jesús and Laurence Ralph. I found many issues I care about—policing, and race and class conflict—intersecting at this place called mass incarceration. I felt compelled to learn more, to get involved, and to see what I could do to be part of that work. A classmate recommended I look into the Petey Greene Program, which supports higher education in prisons in Boston and other cities along the East Coast.

I ended up working with the Petey Greene Program and at MCI Norfolk for over half of my graduate career. I did some independent studies with Professors Kaia Stern and Diane Moore and read a lot of Angela Davis, Michelle Alexander, Elizabeth Hinton, and other leading scholars on these subjects.

Two books that I read were Kaia Stern’s Voices from American Prisons and Richard Snyder’s The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Punishment. I was fascinated by why our prisons look the way they look, why they operate the way they operate, and how that is deeply rooted in the Christian theology that helped shape this country. I fell down the rabbit hole of the theology of the criminal “justice” system.

Incarceration’s Christian History

One would hope that Christian theology would follow a restorative, healing, loving approach to criminal justice because those are the feel-good parts of Christianity. But there are also some things that are not so pretty in Christian theology or ways that it has been co-opted that do harm to communities and individuals.

The Protestant ethic of individualism that sets apart Protestantism from its brother, Catholicism, defines our punishment system. For example, the fact that solitary confinement exists, and that throughout history people were often put into solitary confinement with nothing but a Bible, comes from an Anglican idea that solitude would bring one closer to God. The fact that prisons were built by Quakers, in concept and construction, as an alternative to the death penalty is another example of the religious roots of our prison system.

We idealize individualism as a society, which is very Capitalist and very Protestant. One's relationship with God is individual. It is the individual's business, and it is their responsibility to redeem themself.

This idea takes the onus off the community to be part of somebody's redemption, to take responsibility for the society we created and the people in it. It manifests in a punishment system that blames the individual and absolves the community of responsibility.

Erasing these connections is incredibly harmful because people are ripped out of the context of their family and relationships and expected to make something good out of that.

A View from the Inside

The implementation of education in prisons varies widely from prison to prison and state to state. In a lot of ways, my experience in Massachusetts is very night and day from my work in Washington now.

The prisons in Massachusetts are older. Everything is older and has more history on the East Coast, and that is reflected in the architecture of the prison and a lot of the attitudes around the prison. There is an antiquated mentality about what a prison is there for and how people who are incarcerated should be treated.

While volunteering at MCI Norfolk, I was escorted everywhere. It was very strict. There was a lot of distrust in all directions. It was a really stressful environment to work in. A lot of people I worked with there—some corrections officers, teachers, and of course, students—were phenomenal. But that certainly was not the whole experience. Additionally, college programming was brought in by universities or non-profits who worked outside the Department of Corrections (DOC). The partnerships were not always as cooperative as one would hope.

It was very different coming to Washington where there is a state infrastructure already in place for education in prisons. The State of Washington has mandated that certain educational programming be available to people who are incarcerated. The DOC partners with a local college—often a community or technical college in the area—so that every state prison has a partnership with a local education provider to provide basic GED and high school diploma studies, as well as some vocational programming.

Students often tell us that they wish we offered liberal arts education—a transferable associate's degree, for example, or a bachelor's degree. Having a contract with the state brings limitations though, and because of our state’s contract, we can't use state funding to offer either. Outside of basic education, we can only bring in vocational programs.

The reason comes down to the perception that education in prison should be for a certain purpose. A lot of leaders, a lot of people giving the money, believe that education should lead to better job outcome, job readiness, or a vocational skill that is marketable. Those things are valuable and should be present in what we offer. But I take issue with that being the only thing we focus on in education in prisons.

There can be so much value in an education for the sake of education. I think that offering liberal arts studies and expanded degree programs offers an opportunity for a transformative experience and more humanizing spaces. One can develop a stronger sense of agency just through the act of studying, through the act of education.

A Corrections Education Navigator

My job is like a college advisor, but it looks very different inside of a prison facility. I work with people who are releasing anywhere from a month to a year out and want to explore the possibility of beginning or continuing their education.

I help them talk through their professional and personal goals, and whether a college education, vocational program, or other direction makes sense for them. Then I support them through the process, such as FAFSA, college applications, and all the little hoops and inconveniences that one has to navigate.

I was a first-generation college student, so I remember some of what that was like—not knowing the right questions to ask, where to start, what resources even existed for students like me. People who are incarcerated face a whole different set of challenges in addition to that.

That is why I like the title “Navigator.” I don't have all the answers all the time, but I work together with my students to navigate the challenges and make sure that they have an advocate every step of the way. When they get to their release date, I want them to have an idea of what they want to do, where they want to go, and some solid next steps they can take.

I’ll admit I have mixed feelings about my work though. I would really love to say I do great stuff, it's all part of this great system, and we're making things better. But I am not convinced of that.

On a systemic level, I don't feel like I do that much, or certainly not enough. I still feel like I'm pushing people out into a system that is not really meant for their success and is not going to support them in their pursuit of success. That feeling sucks. Being a Navigator or even one of several Navigators trying to do good work with people does not necessarily mean that we’re transforming the system in a meaningful way.

On an individual level, I do some good work that I am proud of. I love being a partner in my students’ success. It feels really good when someone gets into college and I helped them do that. Or someone gets a financial aid package, and for the first time, realizes that college can be a reality for them. That's really empowering. I love being a part of that.

Where You Are Determines What You Get

There are a lot of barriers for students in prison. When you walk into the classroom, it may not seem terribly different. The differences come down to what students must overcome to get their education.

Students in prison do not have the kind of support that students on the outside do. They don't always have advisors or tutors. There isn’t always a quiet place to study. Because of the pandemic, they don't even have a library. And even when they do, they don't have access to JSTOR or Google, or all those resources that students on the outside take for granted and use constantly. Some students also face the logistical difficulties of taking classes while in solitary confinement.

Students in prison are constantly jumping through hoops. It takes a very determined, dedicated person to be successful in higher education in prisons. Even though we do our best to make it as accessible as possible, the barriers are many.

We are working to open up more possibilities for our students. For example, a special kind of laptop was secured for students last year to provide more research resources. I feel lucky that in Washington the right people have pushed and advocated for that because I have taught in facilities where there is no such thing, and there never will be.

This sort of thing is important everywhere, but because every state is so different, what you get depends on where you are incarcerated. It should not be that way.

Transformative Education Is Intentional

It is important for those doing this work to acknowledge that a lot of people who are impacted by our carceral system have not had good experiences in education or with educators. Educational institutions can be incredibly oppressive, stifling, and unwelcoming. Many people in our programs tell us that their experience with education has sucked. This is one reason why I take issue with the idea that education is inherently good.

Some educators come into prisons with expectations that they will just deliver the curriculum and it will be of value. But it’s naïve to think that education is inherently wonderful or will automatically transform the learner. Even if a student gets college credit or a degree, education must be done with intention as a collaboration between learners and educators to prove meaningful.

Many scholars have worked on the concept of transformative education. A few are Kaia Stern, Diane Moore, and, of course, there's Paulo Freire's famous Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Their work shows how important it is to understand that education is not inherently transformative. If that is what one wants education to be, one must be incredibly intentional to make it that way. If done intentionally, education can help empower people in prisons to exercise their own agency. It can give them more tools and support to vocalize their experience, their story, their needs.

In that way, education can be a wonderful tool of justice and liberation work. But it doesn't just happen that way. One doesn't learn how to add fractions, and then magically have this heightened consciousness. It must be incredibly intentional. I've used that word a million times, but I can't overstate it.

The Road to Prison Abolition

If we are dedicated to higher education in prisons as a transformative practice and a tool for liberation work, we have to think about this work in tandem with mass incarceration and the abolition movement of prisons.

Because education can be such a means of empowerment, education is very much in the conversation about mass incarceration. Education is not a fix all. It is not the solution. But it can be an impactful part of the solution by providing humanizing spaces inside of a dehumanizing institution.

The goal of any good nonprofit is to work itself out of existence. So, I think that education in prison must be a tool to help dismantle the prison, to help abolish the prison. That doesn’t mean to hell with everyone who is incarcerated now and who works in prisons though. It is a more encompassing approach than that.

Any approach to abolition is going to have many different facets of which education will be a single part. Angela Davis comes to mind here and her words about abolition being the creation of something rather than just the destruction something. As educators, that concept should always be in the front of our mind.

We cannot just deliver a curriculum. We need to figure out how to take our students with us on an educational journey and equip them with the tools they will need well beyond the classroom. Not just how to write a paper or add a fraction, but how to tell your story, how to make an argument, how to do research, how to have a debate.

When I go into my classroom and teach, I never depart from that mentality. I try my very best to work in partnership with my students to empower and embolden them to use their own voices and prop themselves and each other up. They are the ones with the lived experiences. They are the ones who are the most impacted. As educators, we should be their enablers.

The frank truth is that not everybody agrees with this. Not everybody is going into their classroom to do this. And I can't change that. Nobody can. But the more people get involved who do have that mentality and the capacity to teach, the more meaningful our impact will be, the closer we will become to the goal.

I understand that there is a lot of weight behind these words and that because my job is to work in prisons many of my coworkers would not receive my opinions well. But this is what I believe. Education must be a tool for the broader goal of abolition of prisons. I don't think it'll happen in my lifetime, but one day, if there are no prisons, then there will be no need for higher education in prisons.

Find the Key and Set Them Free

Prisons are built out of sight so we can keep the people being held there out of mind. I would venture to say that our lock-them-up-and-throw-away-the-key mentality demonstrates that we are not supposed to think about people who are in prison.

I am glad that in recent years prison scholarship and activism is coming to the forefront so that people have to see it and listen. The more that we can empower people who are impacted to be part of the movement, the more likely people will have to reckon with these truths.

For people seeking to join this effort, take the time to find the people and organizations that have been impacted by our carceral system that are already doing valuable work. It's important to follow their lead when getting involved and understand that this is work should be done in community and in partnership.

Get involved, but do so with intention and caution. I don’t say caution because the work is hazardous, but because the work involves a lot of systems and people with conflicting viewpoints. It is important to consider that before and during the work. We need to think critically about the experience of the people who are incarcerated, as well as the dynamics between them and people who work at the facility.

People do a disservice to themselves and their programs when they don't think about how those dynamics are going to affect their work because they absolutely do. Anyone who wants to do this work needs to have a conversation and really talk through the assumptions that they have going into it.

Why are you going into this work? What do you hope to accomplish? How are you going to integrate yourself into this field in a way that is not oppressive or harmful? The reality is that there are people who do this work and cause harm. Many education programs, re-entry programs, religious programs go into these facilities and cause harm.

So, think critically about your positionality; put it all on the table. And don’t stop doing that. Only then can your good intentions become a strategy and your strategy a road to meaningful change.

Edited by Natalie Campbell; photos courtesy of Johnna Loreen

#Harvard #Harvard Divinity School #prison #incarceration #education #Religion #Christianity #large

0 notes

gastricpierrot · 7 years ago

Text

“Are you really sure about this?”

He takes a deep breath, and another. Rain soaks through his clothes, making it difficult to breathe under his mask. He’s shaking; from fear, grief, determination. He reaches up, tugging the bag off his head in a sharp jerk before turning to look at the older man.

“Yeah,” he manages to say without messing up his words, the first time that week. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Urie and Saiko nod assent.

Marude gives him yet another one of his many judging looks, like he still couldn’t believe how much of an idiot he could be despite all the time they’d spent working together. Hide grins at him in response because, hey, he’ll be fine. He’s sure he’ll be.

“We’re getting you kids right out of there as soon as anything doesn’t seem right—with or without Kaneki Ken.” Hide nods, holding up the alarm trigger he’s taking with him in case things go south. Marude sighs, making a shooing motion with his hand.

“Proceed with your stupidity then.”

And they’re running, taking off towards the direction of the monstrous roars echoing throughout the Ward, possibly even the entire Tokyo. The longer Hide listens, the more it seems to sound like some sort of wail as well; anguished, haunting. Hide feels his heart crumble just a little more. What could’ve happened to push Kaneki so far beyond breaking point? What else could he have lost to make him this desperate?

It’s huge, this dragon as the general public has begun calling it. Evacuation sirens howled in the distance, glass windows of numerous buildings shattered simultaneously, concrete cracked and fell apart in a hundred different places. In all honesty, Hide has no idea what’s going to happen after this. What can happen. The future seems so bleak, so frighteningly uncertain. But he can’t think about that right now. He has to take things one at a time; there’ll always be chances to work things out.

His breaths are coming out in ragged pants by the time he’s gotten close enough. Cold wind whipped through his hair as he stands on the rooftop of a building, raindrops like icicles stinging his eyes and face. At this proximity, Kaneki’s downright terrifying. Monstrous eyes mottle the skin of his current form; some darting everywhere as if unable to decide what’s most interesting, some staring unblinking into space, some simply spinning wildly. The especially large ones seem to have... are those bodies bursting out of them? Among them are also mouths of various sizes; some muttering fervently, some screaming shrilly, some busy chewing.

Despite the graveness of it all, Hide nearly laughs when he finds himself recognizing the dragon’s (centipede?) head. Isn’t that what Kaneki drew as his expected appearance of a ghoul or whatever all those years ago? Perhaps he too, has lost some of his sanity over time and the accumulated stress, but that one moment of mirth grants him a surge of courage. He guesses he has always been the type to deal with fear through humour. Hide takes a deep breath, forcing himself onward before it all fades, before the sheer insanity of his plan dawns on him and makes him a coward once more.

And cupping his hands around his mouth, he yells with all his strength. “KANEHGHI!”

Fire ignites in his throat, blood runs up his mouth and he thinks he’s probably torn at least half of whatever vocal cords he still had left.

But it works. The massive head turns towards the three of them, all eyes suddenly trained on nothing but them. There’s no recognition in them, and Hide just manages to keep his legs from turning into jelly and leap forward before it has the chance to open its monstrous maw.

Yeah, Marude’s right. He’s definitely lost it at some point.

Hide uses his momentum to sink the Quinque deep into the creature’s forehead, though he's promptly flung off with a howl of pain or annoyance, he honestly can’t tell. For a few terrifying seconds he’s freefalling in the air, then thick appendages are grabbing him by the ankle and pulling him back to safety.

Hide detonates Nutcracker before he’s even fully upright, knowing there’s no time to waste. The special armed forces could be arriving any minute. An area of the dragon’s head explodes upon the detonation at maximum output, and it reels from the sudden impact. Hide and the Quinx literally jumps on its moment of stillness.

Saiko’s kagune bursts from her back in tendrils, some digging deep into the flesh of the dragon’s head while the others wrap around Hide and Urie’s waists to stop them from falling off. Hide drops to his knees, hoping with all he has that they’d managed to open up a hole deep enough to reach Kaneki. That Kaneki is in the head at all and it’s not just Hide risking everyone’s lives over a wild guess. His heart sinks when all he sees is dark, pulsating flesh; shifting and mending itself at an alarming rate.

It’s too soon to give up—he has to make sure he really isn’t there before they retreat. He claps his hands twice to signal for the Quinx to hold their breaths, emptying a couple of canisters of enhanced RC inhibitor gases over the wound. It seems to work to an extent, slowing down the weaving flesh fibres, but at the rate things are Hide knows even this wouldn’t buy them much time. He motions for Urie to dig deeper with his kagune, and just as the Quinx has his weapon ready, the dragon regains its bearings.

And it's not happy with them hanging around on its head.

It lets out a furious roar, thrashing so violently that it would’ve probably thrown all three of them to the opposite end of Tokyo had Saiko been any less stubborn in holding on. Hide could only pray that amidst this madness it wouldn’t occur to the creature that the easiest way to get rid of the pests on its head was just to smash them repeatedly against the ground or building. He struggles to keep up with the world going over and under all around him, trying to fight against physics with sheer will and move because if they don’t keep going it’s going to be too late. If only it could stay still long enough, if only they could sedate the dragon somehow—

For once, it’s as if the universe hears his desperate pleas. The dragon’s movements abruptly begin turning sluggish, enough for those on it to find their balance and continue from where they were. Hide guesses it’s probably Marude and the team dosing it with enough sedatives to take down two or three whale-ghoul equivalents—but he can’t put much thought into that now. He joins Urie in hacking through the disproportionately supple flesh compared to the seemingly brittle composition of the rest of the dragon’s body, soon covered almost entirely in gore and rain as they dig deeper and deeper.

There’s no sign of him even after what feels like an eternity. With that reaction earlier he’s almost certain Kaneki’s there, yet why...? Urie’s sense of smell is muddled by the rain and blood, so they can’t use that to their advantage right then. Hide grits his teeth, biting down his impatience. Maybe Saiko could use her hearing somehow? It’s worth a try.

In a quick, clumsy succession of signs, he manages to ask her to see if she can hear anything unusual—like, say, a heartbeat or something. Some part of him feels terrible for putting so much burden on a single person—they’re already relying on her so much—but he knows Saiko’s just as determined as him to drag Kaneki out of this mess. He chews on his lip as she kneels down and presses an ear on an undamaged part of the dragon’s bark-like skin, hoping against all hope that it’ll work.

Saiko frowns in deep concentration; Hide notes how tightly her fists are clenched and how white her knuckles are. He could only imagine what she could've been hearing; screams of the people swallowed alive, the crunch of bones, the wet chewing of meat. Yet she listens, and listens and listens until suddenly she gasps and points, warning the rest just in time before they're skewered by the onslaught of appendages sprouting from somewhere Hide doesn't really have the chance to pinpoint.

Urie gets himself busy on defence just as they'd planned, deftly deflecting and slicing through the warped, malformed kagune with his own. Did you hear anything? Hide signs to Saiko, knowing they're desperately running out of time. Saiko presses her ear firmer against the dragon's skin, squeezing her eyes close—

And "He's here! Maman's here!" she exclaims, and if Hide didn't feel like he's got a golf ball stuck in his throat he would've cheered with her. " He's near the back of the head!"

Hide turns to gauge the hole they've made; they're not far off. They can do this. There's no stopping now.

Thank you. He reaches to give Saiko’s arm a light squeeze. Even with the rain, he could see she's crying again. She smiles shakily at him, giving him a thumbs-up.

"Go get him, Hide-san."

Wading through the dragon's flesh is like wading through a pool of mud, only bloodier, sticker, and the mud's kind of trying to digest you. Hide pays it all no mind, his nose already so accustomed to the stench of iron that he can barely smell it. Stab, slice, part. His arms ache from the repetition. He's afraid he'll end up digging his blade too far in at some point and impale Kaneki instead, so he could only progress foot by foot, bit by painful bit.

Until finally, he sees it; a sort of hollow pocket within the flesh.

White hair, dyed in red.

Hide thinks he's forgetting to breathe—that doesn't matter, doesn't matter. He's cutting through, tearing forward with his bare hands, the world around him muted, faded, non-existent. He sees his face, his torso, arms—

His heart stops. Oh, no. No, no, no—he's feared this, feared this outcome so much that he hadn't even dared bring it up for fear he'd jinx it because what if it comes true? What happens then? Yet he's staring at it right now, the absolute worst case scenario.

Nearly half of Kaneki's body seems to have fused with his serpentine form, not just his arms and legs where Hide knows he's been replacing with kagune ever since he lost them in his previous battles. He's wrapped completely in raw flesh from the waist down, fibres of it clinging and melding with parts of his head, shoulders and arms as well. His eyes are open, though unseeing. His lips move in fervent, undecipherable utterances.

Hide stands frozen for far too long, utterly at loss because even though he worried about this he hadn't had the time to properly look at his options if it came to it. Even if they sedate him and cut him out, would Kaneki survive? Would he submit so easily to the lull of sedatives when he's in such a state? Hide knows there's no other choice. From the start, the plan is just to extract him and stop his rampage, regardless if he's going to be alive at the end of it.

Hide’s fingers close around the syringe in his pocket as he approaches his best friend, trembling. Kaneki, I—

"I don't want to die."

He registers them then, the words Kaneki's been muttering like some mantra for the past who knows how long. And gosh, he knows—he understands he's just doing this to keep living but at what cost? What would’ve been the point of fighting so hard when he’s just going to destroy everything he’s built? He's already crossed a point of no return and even Hide's mission could very well be futile—but he refuses to give up and he's not letting him give up as well. Not when there's still hope, there are still chances.

He stops before him; brushes his hair away from his eyes, leaning forward in hopes of letting him see him.

"It's not over yet, Kaneki," he whispers, the only way he could speak without distorting his words. "You've still got us. Don't throw it all away just yet."

Maybe it’s Hide’s imagination, but the rhythm of the pulsating flesh around him seems to falter for a moment, just a fraction of a second.

Then he sinks the needle into Kaneki’s neck.

#Hidekane #-ish i guess #maybe i shouldnt have tagged that but i crave validation so #a real rush job and honestly not my best work but i got it out of my system so??? Eh #It felt really intense when i started on it gho like holy shit #I got so worked up i had trouble falling asleep #id like to thank nier automata's ost for giving me the boss fight vibes lmao #fanfiction

91 notes · View notes