#have done more harm than good and will continue into a second term

[gentil-minou]

if i see one more post that tells me i have to vote biden i am going to lose my mind

[shantechni]

Leo the Leader vs Leo the Learner

I know almost every iteration of TMNT emphasizes that the boys cannot properly function as a team without everyone there, especially without their fearless leader.

In terms of cartoons and movies though (as much as I've had time to watch/rewatch), the '03 and '12 series are my personal favorites, with Rise and MM tying for a very close second, because they both acknowledge issues in the team that the characters work to fix. '03 Leo and '12 Leo both struggle to lead the team at significant points in their respective stories, but the manner in which they struggle and what they struggle with differentiate, in a good way mind you.

In the 2003 series, the very first episode opens with Leo already being in the leading position as he tries to keep his brothers from going off script or doing something irreparable while they work to find Splinter. And when they do eventually find themselves in trouble, he's the one to lead them through it and make it back to Splinter in one piece. We see this formula more or less repeat for almost three seasons with a few different variables to spice things up; the brothers look to Leo for guidance, think of a plan of action with their combined efforts, and go from there.

Until the S3 finale.

The boys had times where they wondered if they'd make it out alive, but this was the first where it genuinely seemed like the end for their little family, and Leo could do nothing but watch as they execute their plan to blow up with the starship.

Of course they survive, otherwise we wouldn't have another four seasons💀but that short amount of time was more than enough to scar Leo, physically and emotionally. When he begins closing himself off from everyone, April's the only one to get him to open up and he lays it all out: He feels like a failure of a leader. He wasn't strong enough to protect his family or stop the Shredder, their last resort was going out with a bang, and they had to be saved by the Utroms. It doesn't feel like they won and he doesn't feel like he accomplished anything.

His fears and frustrations manifest into an ever present anger, slowly going from cold to hot, that chooses its target at random. His brothers don't know what to do since they don't seem to know why Leo's behaving this way, nor have they ever seen him like this. And dear Mikey says something that so accurately sums up their team: "...it can’t be fun always being the responsible one, and we’re the ones who really benefit. Raph’s free to not think ‘cause Leo does all the thinking for him. Don’s free to dream, and I’m free to take it easy, all ‘cause Leonardo is busy being responsible enough for all of us."

Mikey knows Leo is cracking under the pressure of his role partly because they've become so comfortable in their own roles, and no one refutes him. They didn't intend for Leo to translate this dynamic into, "everything is on you," but that's how it inevitably turned out over time. One could even argue that them not knowing how to handle this new Leonardo is yet another downside to them getting too comfortable, and it doesn't help that Splinter is the only one (aside from Usagi on one instance) who attempts to help Leo, even when the young turtle is pushing him away.

Things finally boil over when Leo pushes a little too hard though and harms Splinter during training, a regrettable action that clears away the steely air he had around himself for so long.

It's not until Splinter sends him off to see the Ancient One that Leo finally pulls himself out of that bubble of negativity and he accepts that there was nothing more he could've done in their final fight against the Shredder.

He did all that he could, and he can continue doing all that he can for his family.

In a weird way, Karai's violent eviction notice was exactly what everyone needed.

Leo was told his family likely hadn't survived the attack, something he'd spent countless days trying to prevent through relentless training, but he believed they were okay and ultimately found them alive. He wasn't there to protect them, but he sees for himself that they made it out without his help, and this was also a learning experience for the others if you think about it. They've already been shown to be capable of handling situations on their own or in pairs, but this was the first time they had to deal with a huge confrontation as a team without the comfort of their leader behind their shells.

Raph is the one who takes the helm for a brief few seconds and dishes out instructions amid the chaos, telling everyone to split up, find their way out and meet back up on the surface, with one last demand for them to be careful. And when Leo finds him, his distress is palpable; he couldn't find the others and therefore had no idea if they were okay, let alone alive, while he kept himself hidden from Karai's forces. Before this, we see that Raph is willing to make his own plan of action in this series' version of City at War when he doesn't go with Leo's word. But this time, in Leo's absence, we see he's willing to fill in as leader when the situation calls for it, and he realizes he isn't quite cut out for leadership like Leo.

We don't see any significant shift in team dynamics after this, mainly because Leo's inner turmoil from their fight with the Shredder is what caused problems with the team in the first place, but that goes to show that outside influences are what gave birth to the team conflict. Despite me pointing out earlier how Leo shoulders quite a bit not just because of his role but because of his brothers' roles as well, we can see throughout the series that Leo doesn't buckle from the pressure until they're in a situation where he can't effectively perform his role to his satisfaction.

As I mentioned in the beginning, Leo had been a leader in essence and in name for many years before their first home was raided by the Mousers. It makes perfect sense for him and his brothers to be accustomed to it by now.

2012 Leonardo is not used to being a leader. He may undeniably be a leader in essence, and had the drive and desire to be one, but he definitely wasn't a leader in name. The very first episode doesn't even open up with Leo being a leader, let alone with the turtles being a team. Their first time fighting together is a train wreck, and rather than Leo's strong sense of ethics and honor being the catalyst for his recruitment (not at first at least), it's the beginning of their long battle against the Kraang that convinces Splinter to officially deem him the leader of a newly formed team.

Being leader doesn't automatically mean the team will follow or respect you, which is something Leo learns right away thanks to his brothers, with Raph in particular challenging him when they butt heads over their opposing plans and ideals. It's touched upon in Rise of the Turtles Part 2, but Raph's desire to lead isn't a major plot device until New Girl in Town where he gets a taste of how Leo feels everytime he's responsible for his brothers and their wellbeing. However, Raph makes it known that even though he's resigned himself to not being the leader, he still doesn't like being told what or how to do something. Even Donnie challenges Leo when they can't agree on the best course of action in preparation for the Kraang, but Donnie realizes arguing was pointless as the invasion begins without warning and makes the idea of a second base the more favorable option.

His brothers aren't his only test of will though, as there are a handful of times where Leo questions his ability to lead and wonders if Splinter chose the right turtle for the job. Throughout all of that though, the boys ultimately rely on Leo and follow his lead when all is said and done.

Where this Leo truly differs from '03 Leo is that he not only struggles with leading a team that isn't so keen on being led, but he also struggles to grasp that he leads a team.

There are many times in the series where Leo runs off on his own or makes the decision to tackle something himself rather than with help, and that's not out of the norm, especially in comparison to his own brothers and '03 Leo. The problem is that '12 Leo's solo decision making more often than not leads to trouble (we all know the tale of him trying to turn Karai to the good side without informing the team about her). One of the first major examples of this though was in the S1 finale when he takes Splinter's words a little too close to heart and gives his brothers the scare of their life. Granted, him holding back Kraang Prime kept it on the sinking Technodrome, but you get what I'm saying.

His family actively calls him out on this behavior on two separate occasions during S4.

After they'd spent six months with the Fugatoid fighting the Triceratons and racing to collect every piece of the black hole generator before them, Fugatoid reveals that he was the one who made the world ending device, a reveal that lights a flame of betrayal in everyone, especially Raph and Leo. Believing that they're being used by Fugatoid, Leo rides off in a stealth ship on his own and nearly gets himself killed, a move that has his brothers scolding him, with Raph being the most vocal about Leo's idiotic decision: "Leaders are called leaders because they're supposed to lead a TEAM!"

The moment isn't lingered upon for long, but they all make it clear that they're tired of Leo's one man missions. They're a team, so they should plan and function like one.

Then, in Broken Foot, Leo starts doing missions with Karai and Shinigami in secret to aid them in taking revenge against the Shredder, but, in an attempt to find out what Leo was hiding from them, the other turtles get caught up in their plans and Donnie gets hurt. Leo immediately abandons Karai (who later apologizes for what happened) and Shinigami to check on them and come clean.

He explains to Splinter later on that he didn't fill anyone in on the situation at first because he knew no one would've agreed to help Karai get revenge, and he acknowledges that it was stupid of him to think he could control the situation. Splinter expresses his disappointment, and April reprimands him for once again not trusting his own team enough for them to help him.

Leo apologizes to Raph and Mikey afterwards, even going so far to say he probably doesn't deserve to lead the team after this, something Raph just harumphs at while Mikey remains silent. He pleads for their help in stopping and eventually aiding Karai and Shinigami, and they go along with him to fix things as a team.

We no longer get any one man missions from Leo in S5 (there surprisingly weren't any in S3 lol), likely for a whole list of reasons ranging from leading in Splinter's absence to learning from his mistakes over time. But he makes sure that whatever they have to do gets done together, and he does his best to keep his brothers in line.

I suppose one could say that '03 Leo remembered what it meant to be a leader, while '12 Leo discovered what it meant to lead.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

The Other Evans Girl [Part Thirty Two]

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauder’s Era]

Pairing: Sirius Black x Original Female Character, Sirius Black x Daisy Evans, James Potter x Lily Evans

Characters: Sirius Black, Original Female Character, Daisy Evans, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Alice Fortescue, Frank Longbottom, Marlene McKinnon, Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix LeStrange, Walburga Black, Orion Black, Jasper Thicknesse, Barty Crouch Jr, Mulciber, Walden McNair

Word Count: 7081

Rating: Teen

Summary: Hogwarts is a safe haven, a home for many, but it’s often a place where heartache, love and complex emotions dwell and none know that better than the Marauders. Lily Evans just wants to make it out as a successful witch though the oncoming war and the ongoing advances of James Potter threaten that. Daisy Evans, her twin, has other goals. Join the Evans sisters as they make their way through Hogwarts, prepare for war and eventually find love.

Tags/ Warnings: Hogwarts, Friends, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Marauder’s Era, Teenage Angst, Babies, Weddings, Dating, Crying, Loss of Virginity, First Wizarding War, Love, Kissing, Teenagers, James Potter is a bit of a dick, Hogsmeade, 1970s, Fighting, Loss of Parents, Grief, Babies, Injuries, Gore, Harm, Christmas,  The Potter’s Mansion // Daisy’s Dress // NYE Lily’s Dress // NYE Daisy’s Dress // Lily’s Ring // Daisy’s Ring

Notes: Okay so I’ve been working on updating this and I’ve finally gone through all the chapters already written before I start writing more. It’s changed a lot so I’ve decided it’s just better to completely re-upload it.  

If you want tagging let me know

LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST // LINK TO ALL PARTS

Unfortunately for the sixth years the second week back in lessons didn't let up and the students were caught with an onslaught of work as heavy as the snow that had continued to fall since the weekend. And though she had tried Daisy couldn’t help but feel like her heart wasn’t quite in it. Of course she attended her lessons and did her homework as needed but there was no effort in it. Every essay or assignment was done to just over the minimum requirement and she allowed herself to shrink back in class, as if she was a fixture on the wall rather than a student. And to her surprise the teachers let her, all seeking too nervous to challenge her should she become upset, well, any more than normal given her recent circumstances. Yet it wasn’t her school life she cared about but her social life which also seemed to have taken a hit, with every single one of her friends suddenly busy. Marlene had taken to spending time with a new boy who had just transferred in from Beauxbatons for the rest of term because his father worked at the ministry. And since they had added apparition lessons onto an already crippling workload Lily had become super anxious about homework and revision and was spending more time than ever squirrelled away with just her books, and occasionally Alice, who had also been fretting about work. Though admittedly it was mainly on Frank’s behalf since he was applying to be an Auror alongside good grades required an entrance exam which he was studying for day and night.

And as for the boys they had all but disappeared into thin air. Of course, they attended lessons and mealtimes but as soon as free time rolled around they weren’t to be seen for dust. Daisy had asked what they were up to but they had fed her what she knew were lies, telling her they were helping Remus recover, though he was mid-cycle, and going over Quidditch practices which were conveniently closed to spectators. Daisy knew they were up to something but she didn't have the heart to argue with them so most evenings she ended up alone in her dormitory. 

It was where she was now having trudged upstairs following dinner which had ended with everyone giving their excuses to leave her. Whilst the boys had allegedly gone to the quidditch pitch, Alice and Lily had gone to the library, their invite to go and do charms homework declined by Daisy as she didn’t find it much more appealing than sitting alone, and Marlene hadn’t even joined them in the first place, favouring to sit at the Ravenclaw table with Pierre.  

Now she was sitting on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by pillows and blankets as the sounds of soft rock floated from her record player. At least here she didn’t have to think about her feelings she could just let them happen, and so as the sounds of drums and the strumming of electric guitars echoed off the stone walls she found that tears fell from her uncontrollably and silent. She sat on the floor crying as her music player went through every song on the album until finally the needle let up and she was forced to open her eyes and come back to reality. The room seemed emptier once the music had stopped, her loneliness more engulfing with the absence of sound. Yet she didn’t feel like playing anything else, that would only risk being caught moping and she didn’t fancy having to explain herself so she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and packed her things away.

Once her record was tucked back in its box she pushed it and the record player under her bed yet as she it she felt her hand come across a carrier bag. Not knowing what it was she grabbed it, pulling it from where it was nestled beside her trunk, so that she could inspect it. She didn’t recall stuffing it under there yet as she undid the knot of the carrier bag and spotted the neatly wrapped packages inside she realised what it was, her Christmas presents.

She had completely forgotten about them. The last time she had seen them had been back at her house, all of them still in her suitcase where’d she put them, too sad to open anything on Christmas morning. Now it seemed Lily had taken charge of them hence why they had been safely stowed around under her bed.  She pulled them out and looked at them. There was one from each of her friends and both of her sisters.  And underneath all of them was a small one wrapped in bright red paper that had reindeer dotted all over it and her name was elegantly scribed on the tag. 

Daisy, 

Hope Santa did okay!

Lots of Love

Mum & Dad x

She ran her fingers across it hoping the feel of the writing beneath her touch would somehow connect them to her. As tears stung at her eyes once more she tilted her head, determined not to let any of them spill onto the card and smudge the ink. She held it for a moment weighing up whether it would be best to open it sooner rather than later though as she felt that familiar squeeze in her chest she found herself placing the small box down, opting to pick up a messily wrapped parcel from Peter.

After a few steady breaths she opened it, smiling as she pictured Peter trying to figure out what to get her before eventually landing on the calendar in hand which offered ‘Hexes, Jinxes and Curses of the day’. Petunia and ‘Vernon’ had gotten her a scarf, a replica of the one she’d seen Lily sporting, which she doubted she’d ever wear though it was nice to know that Petunia’s ‘get the twins the same thing although their two different people’ rule was still in play despite tragedy. Marlene and Alice had clubbed together to get her a voucher for the new wizard wear shop that had opened in Diagon Alley and Remus had bought her an ornately decorated journal which she couldn’t deny might come in handy given all the upheaval she was feeling. And as she opened Lily and James’ gifts she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d worked in tandem the albums she’d got from Lily, Fleetwood Mac and ABBA, matching the pair of headphones for her record player that James had bought her.

Finally, there were only two presents left. One from her parents and one from Sirius. Her fingers traced the paper of both wondering which to open first. Eventually she opted for her parent’s gift figuring it was going to hurt either way though that didn’t stop her from going slow, peeling the paper off a small ring box which she opened to find a small gold band inside, a small red stone set within it. She pulled it out of the velvet cushion and slid it onto her finger. Thankfully it fit even if it was a tad loose, not too much, but enough that she could fiddle with it. It looked nice on, pretty. Though as she went to shut the ring box she noticed the ring something, nestled in amongst the wrapping as if dislodged from inside the box, once hidden away. It was a piece of paper which she unfurled expecting to see her mother’s neat handwriting except to her surprise she found herself looking at her Dad’s scrawl. A lump came to her throat.

My dearest Daisy, 

I know you’re probably wondering what the hell your dear old dad is doing writing you a letter, thing is, I don’t really know either! Your mum does the talking for both of us most of the time but I figured if I was going to say anything it might as well be on your sixteenth Christmas, well fifteenth but mum and I knew we were complete even if it took you two another month to show up! Your mum figured we shouldn’t bother with a big birthday gift seeing as you won’t be spending it with us though personally I don’t see why we wouldn’t be allowed to pop up to sunny Scotland eh? 

Instead, we figured getting you something big for Christmas was better so I hope you like it. If not blame your mum! This letter may be all me but your mum has done all the picking, buying, wrapping and what have you (apparently, I had one of two chances of guessing what your birthstone is and I got neither right! It’s garnet like your ring or emerald like Lil’s so I’m told. Petunia’s is Sapphire only so I’m glad your mother didn’t quiz me there, I’m 0 for 3 on my guessing)

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that the past sixteen years we’ve had you girls have been the best of my life. Your mother and I are lucky to have thee such wonderful kids. I know you girls are doing well at school, which I have to say comes all from your mother, and I’m happy that Petunia has found someone she loves and is embarking on a marriage and kids. Even if he does bore me silly about drills.

I don’t know why I felt the need to write this. I guess you almost dying on us last year got me all nostalgic for Christmas together or I’ve had too much sherry. Either way, no harm done. Hope you like your present and I guess this is sort of a Christmas and birthday card.

All my love, 

Dad x

Daisy’s eye’s scanned the page countless times taking in the words that she craved to imprint in her memory. She didn’t want to think about what her dad had been dwelling on when he wrote this, how scared they’d been over the Christmas she’d missed. No, she wanted to dwell on the words. That he was proud of her, that he loved her. And that was enough until she heard the sound of footsteps coming up the spiral staircase. She leapt into action, shoving all her belongings underneath her bed apart from the letter and the present she still had to open. Once they were hidden away she leapt into her bed and pulled her curtains closed listening with bated breath as the footsteps and sounds of talking came closer until she heard her dormitory door open. Lily and Alice’s voices could be heard talking about the last question on the charms homework they had just finished.

‘I don’t know,’ Alice said, ‘I think a concealment charm would count though.’

‘I think that’s too risky,’ Lily said, ‘I mean you might as well, oh…’

‘What?’ Alice asked. Daisy could hear her, standing by her bed, no doubt fumbling around her bedclothes for the pyjamas she’d discarded that morning.

‘I think Daisy and Mar have come up separately,’ Lily said approaching her sister’s cloaked four poster, as she whispered, ‘Dais?’ 

Daisy lay in the bed, the letter and present clutched to her chest, unmoving and not saying a word. Lily waited for a response and when none came she shrugged figuring her sister was asleep and therefore not replying. As Lily moved away, continuing her conversation with Alice albeit at a lower volume, Daisy allowed herself to breathe again, wondering why she had leapt into bed as she had. After all, Lily had opened her gifts she must have known what Daisy had. But in the same way Lily hadn’t broached the subject with her Daisy didn’t want to tell everyone what she had been looking at because that would allow the moment to be hers, just hers. And though her loss was joint with her siblings she didn’t want to share this last piece of her parents she had been given. So, she folded the letter neatly and placed it on her bed covers before she gently started unwrapping her present from Sirius. The wrapping was basic, plain in colour with the tag saying no more than ‘To Dais from Padfoot’ but the book inside it was far from it. It was an old book, leather bound with intricate black etchings on the front and gold lettering down the spine that read ‘Tales of Beedle the Bard’. Daisy looked at it for a moment, trying to recall where she had heard that name before, wondering if she had heard her sister and Remus wittering on about it over the summer.

On the first page was a box that simply stated. THIS BOOK BELONGS TO followed by a name written in a child’s handwriting, larger than the space but still legible now, Sirius Orion Black. 

As she turned the next page she found the title neatly written at the top of the page with a subheading below; first edition. Daisy smiled. It was coming back to her now, a conversation she and Sirius had had months ago. They had been talking about fairy tales and stories of their childhood. Daisy had told him about how her mother used to read to them every night, Petunia too for a spell seeing as she had learned to read before them. They’d grown up with Princes and Princesses and then it had transitioned to whatever Lily was reading as Daisy had forgone an interest in reading herself and her parents and Petunia had grown out of giving them a bedtime story. Sirius had told her how his mother had never shown an interest in a bedtime story instead opting to give him a book of wizarding fairytales and expecting him to see to himself. Kreacher, his house-elf, had taught him the basics and then a governess later on, and at night, when his parents had left them to it in the multistorey house Sirius had snuck down into his brother’s room and read him stories from Tales of Beedle The Bard until he had fallen asleep which is when Sirius would creep back upstairs hoping not to be spotted by either of his parents. 

It had made Daisy almost cry for him but he had assured her he didn’t care, not that she was sure she really believed him. Her sympathies hadn’t lasted long though as soon after bearing his soul they’d gotten into a debate about which were better, muggle or wizard bedtime stories. It’d gone on for a while, neither of them willing to back down, the topic only dying as he promised to show her the stories one day. 

It looked like today was the day. Except the stories didn’t interest her at that moment, she was too focused on the message scrawled at the bottom in Sirius’ handwriting.

Dais, 

I don’t know if you even remember the conversation we had about this. I mean Remus has probably already bombarded you with a new copy anyway but whatever, hope you like it.  

Pads

P.s. even if you have got a copy you should like this one more, I stole it from my mother’s library for you before I left not that she’d notice. Even if you don’t like it I’m happy for you to flog it and buy something really muggle with it. She’d hate that. 

As she read that last bit she suppressed a chuckled. Who could’ve thought that a present that came from a woman who loathed her existence could feel so good. For a moment she thought about reading it, to immerse herself in the young Sirius’ world but that would require use of a wand which would let her roommates know she was awake. And after all the emotions she’d been through this evening she didn’t quite have the energy for that and so she slipped that and the letter under her pillow hoping for an easy sleep.

✵✵✵

When Daisy got out of bed on Friday she was feeling a lot better than she had been at the start of the week because even if her friends hadn’t cheered her up her Christmas presents had. Though she hadn’t seen the boys, Lily or Alice she had managed to spend an evening with Marlene whose new beau had decided to enrol in Gobstones club much to her annoyance. They had spent the evening listening to Daisy’s new albums and talking about her friends’ new romance, which was nice for Daisy, another escape from the feelings that had been overwhelming when alone.

‘Have we got an apparition lesson today?’ Daisy asked with a yawn, fiddling with her tie.

‘Yeah after lunch,’ Lily said eyeing her sister with disapproval as she added, ‘haven’t you been revising?’  ‘What’s to revise?’ Daisy said. ‘It’s a very important skill,’ Lily reprimanded.  ‘You disappear in one place you reappear in another and try not to get cut in half in the meantime,’ Daisy shrugged, leaning down to slip her shoes on though as she fiddled with the buckle her ring slipped from her finger, hitting the stone floor with a metallic tinkle. Lily, who had been watching her sister closely, watched as she picked up the gold band and slipped it back onto her finger.

‘You opened your presents,’ Lily said, not quite stating a fact but not accusatory either. At her words Daisy’s eyes snapped up, landing on her sister’s freckled face before they dropped to her ring, her tone apprehensive as she said, ‘what? Oh yeah…I um, found them the other day…figured it was time to open them.’ ‘Are you okay?’ Lily asked immediately. Daisy looked at her sister once more finding worry in her twin’s eyes, evidently, the fear that her sister was going to break down at any moment was still going strong. ‘Yeah,’ Daisy lied reiterating with more force as her sister’s stare turned sceptical, ‘yes Lily I’m fine. Besides it wasn’t as if it was a horrible thing to find, actually, it was kind of nice.’ ‘They’re lovely rings aren’t they,’ Lily said her hand going to a chain around her neck, one that Daisy hadn’t noticed her sister had been wearing but now as she looked she could see a thin silver chain with her sister’s matching ring around it. As Daisy looked at her confused Lily said, ‘it fits I just didn’t want to upset you if…’ ‘I saw what mum and dad got us,’ Daisy finished. Lily shrugged as though it was barely a thought she’d had but Daisy knew she was probably right to do so. That if she’d have seen her gift even a week ago it probably would’ve sent her into a spiral. Thinking about it now made her stomach swirl with sadness which she elected to push out, saying, ‘I think you had the right idea anyway. Mine’s a little loose and it keeps slipping off I might put it on my chain.’ ‘Good idea,’ Lily said with a smile. 

After that the pair continued to dress in silence until they were ready to head downstairs for breakfast only they didn’t get very far as once in the common room they found Remus and James waiting for them, their quiet chatter stopping as they appeared from the stair well.

‘Morning Evanses,’ James said with a smile, his head flopping over the back of the settee so that he was looking at them upside down. Remus rolled his eyes and said, ‘morning.’

‘Morning,’ the girls replied, Daisy adding, ‘what’s got you so chipper?’ ‘It’s defence club day,’ James said as if it was self-explanatory. ‘So?’ Daisy said, poking his glasses down his nose which caused him to swat at her hand, leaping up so he was kneeling on the couch facing them. ‘Let me guess,’ Lily said, ignoring the childishness of the pair of them as she said, ‘you got some big cool spell you want to show off?’ ‘Me? Show off?’ James said feigning aghast, ‘how dare you, Lily!’ ‘Go on then, why are you all excited?’ Daisy probed, her eyes narrowing. James smirked, sharing a look with Remus before he leaned in and said, ‘now that would be telling.’

‘Oh come on,’ Daisy grumbled as he leapt up of the couch, grabbing his school bag as he headed towards the portrait hole, the others rushing to follow him.

‘Sorry,’ James chuckled.

‘You’re really not going to tell us?’ Lily asked, more intrigued than she cared to admit. ‘You’ll just have to wait and see,’ James winked and before they could question him further he dove into a story about a jinx he had been learning for the club but had yet to perfect. It wasn’t enough to completely spark out her curiosity but Daisy let it yield for the time being, too busy enjoying having her friends around her for the time being especially as James explained his attempts had caused his target [Peter] to end up with duck feet every time he tried.

‘I’ve always thought he had sort of a waddle to his gait,’ Remus chuckled. They were in the great hall by now, taking a seat next to Alice and Frank who were going over Auror Exam practice questions but waved nevertheless. ‘No he’s definitely rat-like,’ Daisy said, waving at her friend’s before looking back at the boys as she asked, ‘anyway where is the waddled one? Or Sirius for that matter?’  ‘Um,’ James faltered, the look he gave Remus no more than a second but still enough for her to clock, ‘gob stones meeting.’ ‘And Sirius?’ Daisy said knowing that they weren’t technically lying but it would only be Peter who was there.  ‘He didn’t say,’ Remus shrugged as he poured milk into his cup of tea. Daisy nodded pretending as though their dancing around the subject was normal rather than sparking that curiosity in her ten-fold.

Yet as they started another conversation she poured herself an orange juice, her mind only on Sirius. She knew they were up to something, all of them, and yet it was him that bothered her the most. Him who she was missing the most. Everyone seemed to be convinced they were meant to be but just when she thought he might like her, he’d pulled away leaving her at more of a loss than ever.

That was what she liked about Michael. She didn’t like him the way she did Sirius, not by any means, but he was a nice guy and if nothing else he’d been upfront about liking her. He’d even asked if she wanted to go to Hogsmeade together. She’d declined though only because she didn’t see the point given she’d only be doing it to see if she got any reaction from Sirius and he’d paid her so little attention the day in the attic she doubted he’d even notice her on a date with someone or worse, not care.

And she wanted him to care. She wanted him to spend time with her instead of avoiding her because being with him made her feel safe. Whenever she thought of him she thought of warmth. Around him she was herself, comfortable, open and honest and not pretending to be okay if she didn’t want to. The only problem was that she didn’t have any choice in what he did or who he saw. She couldn’t dictate him be with her all the time, even if she wanted to.  

As the other three at the table chattered away, Daisy pretended to listen while dutifully shovelling her breakfast down, and when she was done, she followed Lily to their first lesson of the day, double potions. It wasn’t a great start to the day, what with Professor Slughorn opting to give them a challenge with a complex potion as the objective, but fortunately Daisy didn’t have to do much of anything as they were allowed to work in pairs, with Lily doing all the heavy lifting while she was tasked with running to the store cupboard every so often. The only problem with taking a back seat however, was that she found herself thinking more and more about Sirius, meaning that the ache in her chest refused to disappear until she was placed in her transfiguration lesson, somewhere she had to concentrate given that if anyone wasn't going to let her slack off it was Professor McGonagall. She didn’t even allow her to as the final bell tolled signalling lunch, her nasal Scottish voice calling her name as Daisy crammed her belongings into her book bag as quick as she could. Daisy sighed but bid her friends goodbye anyway watching as they all left before she turned and walked to the front of the room where her teacher was waiting. 

‘Something wrong Professor?’ Daisy said as the last few stragglers left the class.  ‘No, well not exactly,’ Professor McGonagall said as she put a piece of parchment down on the desk in front of them both. Written on the top of the piece of parchment was an A- Acceptable. ‘Is that-’  ‘Last week’s homework assignment,’ McGonagall said, her gaze scrutinous as she continued, ‘and whilst this is an okay grade and still a pass this is not the level of work I’ve come to expect from you.’

‘Professor,’ Daisy mumbled though she didn’t know what point she was trying to make. Not that McGonagall seemed to care as he continued to chastise her, ‘you’re far more capable than this. Don’t you think?’  ‘Yes Professor,’ Daisy said though she wasn’t sure what she wanted any longer.  ‘Then you’re going to need to improve your grades in this class as well as others. From what I’ve heard from other teachers your grades are slipping there as well and why I know why I can’t help but worry. You’re better than this Daisy,’ McGonagall said. ‘I know Professor it’s just been a bit hard is all,’ Daisy said, feeling tears sting in her eyes which McGonagall seemed to notice too, sighing as she said, ‘I understand but I just can’t stand by and not mention it. You deserve to make yourself proud…your parents too. Don’t you think?’

‘Yes Professor,’ Daisy mumbled, the tears now accompanied by a lump in her throat. McGonagall smiled softly, ‘well then let’s try a little harder next time.’

‘Right,’ Daisy said, barely giving her teacher time to dismiss her before she was fleeing for the door as fast as her legs could carry her. She was down three flights of stairs before she even looked up from her feet the tears finally subsiding and her vision becoming clear. 

And as she looked up she spotted a familiar sight at the end of the corridor. Sirius. He was leaning against the wall one foot resting against it, his arms crossed across his chest. He was chuckling away, his eyes glinting in the sunlight that was just barely coming in through the hallway window, and in front of him was Penelope Fulton, laughing along with him, her hand resting on his folded arms as if propping herself up to stop herself from keeling over with laughter. Daisy’s heart sank.

‘So this is where he’s been,’ she thought, that ache in her chest returning. She had wanted to believe they were up to something, the four of them together. She had wanted to believe that whatever it was would be worth it in time and yet now she worried that wasn’t the case. She worried that while she’d been missing him, lonelier than ever he’d been continuing his romance, the thing he’d protested was just a date now actually more. It made her feel sick. He didn’t spot her and so she decided not to reveal herself and instead walked the long way round to the dining hall, that sick feeling never leaving as he never joined them for lunch.

✵✵✵

For the rest of the day Daisy was in a grim mood so much so that she debated whether or not to duck out of Defence Club, her decision to go only made when she realised the barrage of questions she would get from her sister if she didn’t. After dinner, Lily, Daisy, Alice and Frank headed towards the attic for the meeting yet just as they made it to the entrance hall they heard someone shout for them and found James, Peter and Remus rushing to catch up with them.

‘Wait for us!’ James hollered, catching the group first and throwing himself in the middle, his arms going around Alice and Frank.

‘Alright mate,’ Frank chuckled, shoving him off.

‘Better now you’ve waited for us,’ James replied just as Remus and Peter caught up, evidently not in as much of a hurry as the other boy. Daisy scanned the ensemble, looking for a familiar pair of grey eyes yet she found none, the only gaze she caught being Remus’ who smiled at her. She returned it weakly.

‘I thought you said going in small groups was more inconspicuous,’ Lily challenged, raising an eyebrow. ‘Well, what’s the damage now Dumbledore knows?’ James smiled.

‘He’s got a point there Lil,’ Frank said. To everyone’s surprise Lily didn’t challenge them, instead opting to start talking, albeit in hushed whispers, about how excited she was to resume the club. Everyone bar Daisy shared her sentiments, her chest still aching at the idea of having to attend.

It didn’t let up one ounce as they made their way up to the attic, meeting Marlene and Pierre on route, in fact it only grew worse at they made their way up to the stone staircase, finding Sirius and Penelope already waiting for everyone on the landing outside the door. Fortunately for Daisy she didn’t have to question her being there as Marlene was like a rottweiler, her tone light but her eyes menacing as she said, ‘what’s Penny doing here?’ as if she wasn’t in the room. ‘She asked if she can join I said she could,’ Sirius said purposefully not looking at Daisy.

‘And if I like it I thought I could bring my brother and a friend along. If that’s okay of course,’ Penny said, looking to the group for approval. A litany of awkward smiles faced her. Well, all apart from Frank who earned himself a small dig in the ribs from Alice as he said, ‘of course it is. More the merrier and all that.’  ‘Great,’ Penelope said awkwardly. ‘Yeah, yeah great,’ Lily said earning a snort from James who replied, ‘not boring are we Evans?’

‘No,’ Lily glared, ‘I was just wondering why we are conducting club business outside the safety of the club? Why didn’t you just go inside? ‘Ah, well about that,’ Sirius said, joined in ranks by James whose teasing was over as he said, ‘the thing is after we cleared out the space the boy and I did some thinking.’

‘What kind of thinking?’ Marlene asked sceptically.

‘That Lily had a point about making it comfortable,’ Sirius explained.

‘Yeah so we decided to do a little decorating,’ James added.  ‘Oh good god, what have you done?!’ Lily asked panicked.  ‘Nothing bad,’ James said quickly, ‘well, at least we hope not.’

‘I’d say it’s flipping brilliant!’ Peter said, joining them from the crowd.

‘Me too,’ Remus agreed from the back of the crowd.

‘Well then don’t keep us waiting,’ Frank said, earning smiles from the boys as they moved to the door and opened it.

Oohs and aahs echoed off the walls as the troupe filed in, taking in the newly transformed room. Whilst they had elected to leave the majority of it bare for practicing, the crash mats and cushions stacked up in a neat pile to one side, the edges of the room housed things that hadn’t been there before. The wall that wasn’t littered by posters, of defensive spells and muggle rock bands, was lined by a couple of bookshelves, the contents they’d decided to keep from the boxes displayed across them. And in the back of the room was what looked like a common room. There were a couple of desks with several chairs around and across from them three couches which formed sort of its own section. There was a record player in the corner currently playing some soft rock on low and in front of the couches was a coffee table, littered jugs of pumpkin juice and plates of sandwiches. It was perfect. 

As people walked around the room the boys stayed put watching closely. James in particular watching Lily, who looked awestruck as she ran her fingers across the bookshelf, not looking up as she said, ‘guys this is…’ ‘This is amazing!’ Alice squealed, Frank nodding in agreement as they took seats on the couch.

‘Thanks,’ James said. ‘Did you do all of this?’ Pierre asked the boys impressed. James shrugged, ‘it was a team effort.’

‘Well it looks great,’ Marlene smiled, following Pierre as he gestured for him to join her by the record collection. James watched everyone excitedly, his gaze going back to Lily as she approached, confusion on her face as she asked, ‘how did you do all this?’

‘Well a lot of furniture came from the room of requirement,’ James explained.

‘You’ve found to the room of requirement?!’ Lily asked agog.

‘Well, it kinda found us,’ James admitted.

‘Wow,’ Lily said with awe, ‘I bet it wasn’t easy getting everything up here.’

‘It’s nothing,’ James lied, ‘if anything it’s like Hogwarts wanted us to do it.’

‘Feels like that doesn’t it,’ Lily smiled, adding with earnest, ‘this really is amazing. Thank you.’

‘Like I said it was a team effort,’ James smiled.

Having allowed them to have a moment in private Remus and Peter had moved away from the pair, joining the others who were now crowded around the seating area. Sirius however didn’t migrate that way, instead drifting towards where Daisy was standing on her own, looking up at some of the posters on the wall though she looked towards him when she felt a presence beside her. Sirius smiled but she didn’t reciprocate it, unable to stop herself as she stated, ‘so, this is what you’ve been up to all week.’ ‘Yeah,’ Sirius said, nerves in his stomach at the lack of greeting though he explained anyway, ‘James wanted to keep it a surprise so.’ ‘You lied to me,’ Daisy accused, taking him by surprise. ‘Dais it wasn’t a lie,’ Sirius rebutted. He had sensed her being miffed at being left out but he’d figured she’d understand once she knew why they were doing it. And never in a million years had he thought she’d see it as lying. ‘You left me on my own,’ Daisy said, hurt he hadn’t expected in her voice. Upon hearing it not only guilt but confusion swirled inside him, leaving him unable to fathom how the idea he’d had to cheer her up seemed to be going so awry. He hadn’t meant to leave her out but it’d only been because he wanted to surprise her, nothing else. ‘We wanted it to be a surprise,’ he said softly, begging her to see his side as he said, ‘Dais we’ve been up here day and night.’ ‘When you weren’t with Penny of course?’ Daisy replied. It was quiet but cutting and Sirius tried to replied but her accusation had come out of the blue and he was tripping over his words and didn’t manage to reply before Daisy said, ‘thought so.’

And with that, she disappeared towards the throng of people, leaving him standing there at a loss for words. After that he didn’t get chance to speak to her as she kept her distance allowing at least three people to fill the space between them at any given time which became easier the more people that arrived. Not only that but given it was her first meeting he was charged with getting Penelope up to speed whilst the others recapped what they had done before Christmas.

It was a crash course for Penelope but after an hour or so of practice she seemed to be up to speed and she and Sirius were able to join the group that had gathered around on the couches, going through a list of spells and jinxes they’d each been researching and thought might be worthwhile. Lily and Remus of course had a list each with the others offering a couple extras here and there including a few requests from Frank who asked from some auror spells he needed to practice to be added too, earning a shiver of excitement from the room. As yawns started becoming more frequent, the come down of excitement combined with the amount of food they’d eaten hitting everyone at once, the list was completed and stuck up on the wall ready for further meetings and everyone started to pack up. Alice and Frank left first followed by Marlene and Pierre.

‘Tonight’s been awesome,’ Rudy Scrimgeour said as he and his friends left. ‘I’m gonna see if some of the girls want to come if that’s okay?’ Eleanor Vane said. ‘Absolutely!’ Lily called from where she was tidying away book and rubbish that had been left by everyone. ‘The more the merrier,’ James echoed as he helped her. They were some of the only people left now with Remus and Daisy chatting to Peter about his Gobstones tournament and Sirius was talking to Penelope by the door before she headed out. Once she had gone he turned, watching as Daisy pretended not to notice him, placing herself on the opposite side of the group as they headed out too now that everything was tidy. He watched her the entire way, not bothering to join in with the conversation or even notice that Lily and James had lagged behind meaning that when they got to the common room the pair where nowhere to be seen.

‘Where are they?’ Remus said as they walked into the deserted common room.  ‘I don’t know,’ Peter said, peeking down the alley to the portrait hole only to find it had closed behind him.

‘I thought the sound of fawning had faded,’ Sirius joked earning a chuckle from everyone but Daisy whose eyes were icy whenever they landed on him. It irked him, the way her attitude had been doing all night. Surely she knew he hadn’t meant for them to hurt her? Surely she could understand that they, he, had wanted to do something nice for her. And whatever she thought about Penelope well he could explain that if she’d just let him. Before Sirius could say anything to her though Lily and James appeared through the portrait hole.

‘Where have you been?’ Peter asked innocently.  ‘Nowhere, we were just talking,’ Lily said, her face beetroot red even in the low moonlight.

‘Yeah,’ James mumbled though he appeared in a daze.

‘Anyway ready for bed Dais?’ Lily said, her attention solely on her sister as if that would reduce the flaming in her cheeks. Daisy eyed her suspiciously and then said, ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’

‘Right,’ Lily nodded, ‘night then everyone.’

‘Night,’ the boys called watching as Lily dashed up the stairs and out of sight at record speed. The moment she was out of ear shot Daisy’s suspicious gaze landed on Jaems who was still watching the space she had vacated but snapped out of it as the blonde asked, ‘what have you done?’

‘Nothing,’ James said wincing as the back of Daisy’s hand hit his bicep, ‘honestly! We were just talking and well…I sort of asked her out.’ ‘When don’t you?’ Sirius snorted. ‘True but she sort of said yes,’ James said sheepishly.  ‘What?!’ came the reply from all. ‘Wait you’re going out?’ Remus said, ‘when?’  ‘Next week. We’re allowed to Hogsmeade for Burns Night remember,’ James said.  ‘Well, I can’t believe it. Well done mate,’ Peter said.  ‘Yeah, I’m happy for you,’ Sirius said.  ‘Me too,’ Remus agreed. As the celebrations died down all eyes fell on Daisy who had remained unusually quiet. Knowing how long he had liked her, and how much Lily liked him despite her protestations, she wanted to congratulate him but for some reason it wouldn’t come. For some reason the idea of them made that ache in her chest return.

 ‘Well, Dais? Do I get your blessing?’ James said, her silence bringing him down from the heights he’d been on at a remarkable speed. The others too felt apprehensive at the awkward silence, Sirius’ irritation turning to worry as he watched her force a smile and say, in a voice that didn’t sound quite right, ‘of course you do. Anyway I best get to bed.’

‘Oh? I thought we could-’ James started but she didn’t wait. Instead she cut him off mumbling ‘night’ before she raced up the stairs and into her dormitory. Alice and Marlene weren’t back when she got inside and from what she could hear Lily was in the bathroom, a fact Daisy was thankful for. Pretending to the boys she was happy was one thing but Lily would no doubt be able to sniff out the truth and she didn’t want to hurt her like that. So Daisy stripped out of her clothes and climbed into bed. As she lay there her mind raced about everything.

She hadn’t meant to be mean to Sirius, to push him away, but he hadn’t been honest with her. He’d pretended he’d spent his time with the boys when she knew different. More to the point he’d left her alone. He’d promised to help her through her grief, be there for her, only to disappear at the chance of a good time. That had hurt her. And what hadn’t expected was for Lily to do the same thing. For her to be there for her until she had someone else. And what was worse was that she was expected to be happy for them, how could she not be? How could she not celebrate her sister and James’ relationship? How could she not want Sirius to be happy even if it wasn’t her he chose to be happy with. That’s what hurt her more. That was what that ache in her chest was - love. Love for those who couldn’t love her back anymore.

And as that pain enshrouded her she fell back, tears falling down her face onto her pillow, whilst she pretended to sleep.

SIRIUS BLACK/SERIES TAGS

@maeisafangirl @mysteriouslydelicateface @caitlin1996 @imthebadguyyy

[aeide-thea]

Finally, a [potential] solution to plastic pollution that’s not just recycling

Countries are negotiating a new global treaty to drastically reduce the plastic waste that has been poisoning the world.

Jun 7, 2023

Late last year, world leaders, scientists, and advocates started working on a global, legally binding treaty under the United Nations to end plastic waste. The second round of negotiations concluded last week in Paris with a plan to produce an initial draft of the deal. This treaty could be huge. Although it will take months of negotiating for any of the details to become clear, the agreement — set to be finalized by the end of 2024 — will require countries to do far more than just fix their recycling systems. Negotiators will discuss a menu of options including a cap on overall plastic production, bans on certain materials and products including many single-use plastics, and incentives to grow an industry around reusable items. This treaty could literally transform entire chunks of the global economy. As with any global deal, an ambitious agreement will face several roadblocks, some of which have already appeared. Certain countries, such as Saudi Arabia and the US, for example, are pushing for voluntary terms that would allow them to continue investing in their petrochemical industries (plastic is a petrochemical). Then again, the fact that global talks are happening at all is in itself a big deal and reveals a shift in the politics around waste. “There’s a true willingness to tackle this problem,” said Erin Simon, vice president and head of plastic waste at the World Wildlife Fund, a large environmental group. “We’ve never seen so much progress.”

Could this treaty really work? Delegates from 175 countries finished up the last round of negotiations in Paris with a clear objective: To develop a draft of the plastic treaty before November, when they’ll meet again, in Nairobi, Kenya, for round three. The idea is to discuss the terms of the treaty in detail then, using the text (which they call a “zero draft”) as a starting point. […] It remains unclear whether negotiators will be able to craft an ambitious treaty. Then there will be questions about implementation. But the good news is that something similar has been done before, albeit on a smaller scale. In 1987, nearly 200 countries agreed to a global deal called the Montreal Protocol designed to phase out chemicals called CFCs that were found in all sorts of products, from aerosol cans to refrigerators, which had put a hole in Earth’s ozone layer. The treaty worked. Today, 99 percent of ozone-destroying chemicals have been phased out and the ozone hole is almost fully repaired. While the plastic problem is much bigger, global rules to phase out harmful materials can work. “This has been done before,” Muffett said. If world leaders take the problem of plastic pollution seriously, he said, “fundamental transformation is very, very possible.”

[kitkatt0430]

SO I don't really keep up all that much with the DCEU so I was taken aback when watching a video essay about why the sequel films are bad when the essayist said that... the whole DCEU was ending with Aquaman 2. Like I know this 'verse has never done, like, amazingly well, and I know some of the sequels were pretty naff but...actually scrapping it? And I'm wondering why - is it really that it's flopped or is it that they wanted an MCU without being willing to put in any of the work and instead expecting Instant Billions or whatever (or is it tax reasons, like they did with Batgirl?)

Oooh, send me a link to the essay? I'll have to check that out.

So I admit I haven't paid all that much attention to the DCEU either. I gave up on following everything for that one a lot faster than I did the MCU, so I really only tune in to one of the DC movies if I hear enough about it being good after it's been out a while. It was definitely mismanaged compared to how the MCU was handled - which is funny because the Arrow-verse interconnected shows was well done and they could have leveraged the multi-verse aspect of the comics to their advantage, though it's probably for the best they didn't. The shows had their own problems with seasonal rot and using them to prop up the movies would likely have not been pulled off with any finesse or skill. (I mean, they did finally tie in the movies in the Crisis on Infinite Earths with the DCEU!Barry cameo, but that was too little too late and barely counts.)

I hadn't heard the DCEU was coming to a close, but I'm not surprised. Though the news articles I just kinda flipped through before responding here were mixed on whether the DCEU is actually ending or if there is gonna be one more Aquaman movie since the second movie apparently ends with a setup for one? (wouldn't be the first setup for another movie that never followed through though) And it may not so much be ending as it is soft rebooting. Which... since I doubt the WB execs learned anything about why the DCEU failed to achieve what the MCU managed, I can't say I have high hopes for DCEU 2.0.

Their tax games definitely contributed to the DCEU loosing fans and thus money in the long run. The Batgirl movie had a lot of interest in it from fans and, if I'm remembering correctly, it had finished filming and just had post-production left to do. So tanking it for tax reasons pissed off a lot of people and killed off a lot of goodwill towards WB's handling of the DC movies. The fact that WB/HBO are continuing to play tax games with the Road Runner cartoons continues to erode trust in the company and continuing to play those games are likely to continue destroying their fan base as more and more people lose trust in them. Until these kinds of tax shell games are made illegal, I don't really see the company admitting that these kind of short term tax benefits are hurting their long term profitability with every person who stops caring about new movies or shows announced because, well, it'll probably get canceled for tax BS anyway, right?

Their strict control of characters being allowed to appear in DCEU vs the various tv shows was ultimately harmful too. By refusing to allow a live action Batman show, we got a version of Arrow that was at times good but was still pretty clearly Bruce Wayne-lite with Oliver Queen slapped on top. And who basically became a cop in the final season; comics Ollie would be ranting in all fucks about that if he knew. (Dinah probably wondering if he'd forgotten other words exist...) Declaring Deadshot off limits too meant putting an end to the use of the suicide squad episodes, which I have no doubt backfired by making fans of the show interpretation less interested in seeing the movie version.

While I'm glad that bringing Barry Allen as the Flash into the movies didn't end up killing the show - it was already popular by the time the Justice League was announced so I suspect they at least realized killing that show would definitely be shooting themselves in the foot, a rare good decision for the DCEU - but the way interviews about the Ezra Miller version of the character are given tells me that they just... don't care about the success of the show compared to movies. And that alienated fans of the Flash show, especially down the road when a standalone Flash movie entered development and the movie related hype got louder. "Oh how wonderful Ezra is at playing Barry Allen, none could do it better." Except Grant for nine years. Ten if you count the intro episodes he had on the Arrow before the Flash started. Talking about the movies as if the show didn't exist, or matter, definitely shot them in the foot with show fans. And it didn't help that the movies were retreading stories with that version of Barry that the show had already done - Eobard murdering Nora, Flashpoint, an evil version of Barry too??? not totally clear on that one - and did so badly if the clips I've seen of the Flash movie are any indication. At the very least had the interviews regarding the movie had been respectful of the show's success, they could have drawn in a lot more viewers than the Flash movie ended up with.

Those are not the only places where the movies have caused characters to be barred from the various tv shows or where the movie PR has treated the shows (and not just arrow verse shows) like they don't exist. But they're the ones that come to mind for me first. And it generates bad feelings with fans every time it happens.

Then there's the fact that the DCEU movies were just literally difficult to watch. The MCU movies get dark, but wow. Do DCEU filmmakers know what lighting is? Do they know that lighting is important in order to see what is happening on the screen? Do they know that people watching movies like to be able to see what's happening on the screen?

The MCU has a lot of planned continuity between entries. The plots for the movies may be kinda shallow, but the fact that a lot of the movies can stand on their own despite being interconnected was a major strength for building up the fan base it has today. They don't account for every plot hole or contradiction, and it's kinda hilarious what continuity errors some of the later retcons have introduced, but ultimately there is a cohesiveness of story being told across the various movies and shows. And the shows have been very good at diving into the fallout of plot points that are left shallow in the movies. What happened to the agents burned during the Winter Solder - Agents of SHIELD handles that question really well, though being so tightly tied to the movies was as much a weakness for the show in it's early seasons as it was a strength. Daredevil and the other Defenders shows explored the fallout of the Battle of New York. And the Disney shows continue that trend of diving more in depth into various questions the movies have left us with.

The DCEU doesn't really have that. There's no real unified vision. There's a lot of big ideas but not a whole lot of follow through. The characters don't really seem to exist between movies - the Flash movie was supposed to be a few years post the Justice League movie, but Barry had done basically nothing as the Flash between the two. Diana is still mourning Steve as the love of her life in the second WW movie. Though Diana has grown more comfortable in the regular world, she hasn't really grown any as a person between the first and second movies despite the decades in between. And then sometimes the characters are more stereotypes than actual characters - Batman vs Superman was less Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent clashing over misunderstanding each other and more the concept of Batman vs Superman as argued by out of touch fanboys who don't actually like the source material. (You can tell where I stopped keeping up with the DCEU now right?) And even the extended version of Justice League has at best superficial readings of the characters because it's trying to do too much at once. While sometimes the characters do learn and grow and better themselves, if it survives to the next movie is hit or miss. Which, admittedly, is one movie sin the MCU does have in common with the DCEU.

(The things that could be said about how wildly unevenly Clint Barton was written to be... I swear he's basically a different character every time he shows up at this point, despite having the same name and actor every time.)

And the DCEU hasn't really handled it's scandals well. When actors or directors or whoever is called out on bad behavior, the company will cover for them. So while the people running the shows seemed to have learned from the #MeToo movement and ditched problematic people even when it meant changing direction with ongoing plots (Supergirl season 3) or writing out one of the main characters of a show (Hartley Sawyer being let go between seasons over uncovered past bad behavior and the subsequent decision to write out Ralph Dibny instead of recasting), but those in charge of the DCEU have routinely protected people called out for racist, misogynist, and other prejudiced behaviors. (the post Justice League racism debacle, pretty much everything to do with Ezra Miller pre-Flash movie release...)

Honestly, the TLDR here would be that the DCEU was just mismanaged every which way it turned. And while we still got gems like Aquaman, the first Wonder Woman, Harley Quinn and the Birds of Prey... those were never going to be enough to save the DCEU from either getting shelved or rebooted eventually. And if we are getting a DC movie-verse reboot? Unless the problems that tanked this iteration are addressed, it's still going to fail in comparison to the MCU's ongoing successes. Because ultimately, yes, I think they wanted MCU level success without being willing to do the work to achieve it. And I don't think they'll be any more willing to do that work with a rebooted DCEU either.

[internerdionality]

I just finished soaked to the skin and I LOVED it but is Izzy happy at the end???? I have to know if he is in love and happy pls

Thank you so much! Soaked to the Skin is my absolute baby, my favorite fic I've ever written, and getting comments and asks on it always makes my day.

Major spoilers for the fic follow!

Soaked to the Skin is an emotional whirlwind for Izzy. It takes place over barely three weeks, and in that time he falls for Lucius, almost dies several times, and finally leaves Ed after his loyalty is tested to the breaking point. Not to mention that he starts the whole thing by losing a toe!

So.

Is he in love?

Yes. In the end, he chose Lucius over Ed, a man he's loved for decades, as much as he possibly could. He is very much in love.

But it's the "new romantic energy" rather than the "complete each other's sentences and trust each other implicitly" kind of being in love. He and Lucius fell in love during some of the worst possible conditions. They still haven't grappled with what their relationship can or will look like during normal life rather than the intense, forced pressure cooker they were in. The potential for that second type of love is there, but it's going to take a lot of hard work on both their parts to find their way there.

Is he happy at the end?

I'm fond of the philosophy that happiness is a process rather than a state of being. Both in my fic and in canon (oh my goodness, in canon) Izzy has a lot of baggage and trauma. My fic ends barely more than a day after he had one of the most traumatic experiences of his life and tried to kill himself, so, uhhhh. He's definitely still pretty emotionally wrought at the end of the fic. And he's not someone who handles change well, and I do believe he genuinely loves Ed and Ed loves him back, even if that love isn't healthy or well expressed for either of them. So leaving Ed isn't going to be easy for him in the short term.

That said, he's also committed to several changes—most importantly, leaving Ed, but also being with Lucius and trying to make amends for some of the harm he's done—that are going to improve his life a lot in the long run. He's also getting help to cope with what I would argue is either chronic depression, an anxiety disorder, or both, in more healthy ways than he's been doing for most of his life.

So I suppose I would say that no, he's not happy right at the end of the fic, but he's closer to it than he has been in a long time, and has a lot of potential to experience some real happiness in the weeks to come, as he continues to heal.

Thank you again for the ask!

[elevatorladylady]

Critical Reread - ACOTAR Chapter 3

Join me on a reread of A Court of Thorns and Roses

Chapter 3

F/eyre goes to the market

“though Nesta had awoken at dawn to chop wood.”

I love this detail. Yes, she can be awful, but she's the only one that seems to help F/eyre in these first few chapters.

“I lived in such ignorance, too, until I heard the Word of the Blessed. I grew up in a village so similar to this—so bleak and grim. But not one month ago, a friend of my cousin went to the border as our offering to Prythian—and she has not been sent back. Now she dwells in riches and comfort as a High Fae’s bride, and so might you, if you were to take a moment to—”

I forget if we learn more about these weirdos. I know they come back up in ACOWAR, but before then are they actually taken and killed by fae from the Spring Court? Is Amarantha to blame for most of the harm done to humans? I guess we will see.

Also maybe this is just supposed to be some irony and foreshadowing? They are mostly right about the fae, and the actual message isn't far off from what F/eyre starts preaching about the fae down the road.

“I’d never encountered the cruel, human-looking High Fae who ruled Prythian itself,”

So do the human lands of the island just not have a name? At one point I thought the whole land mass was Prythian, but several instances in the text seem to suggest Prythian is just the fae part.

“Once, we had built them glorious, sprawling civilizations from our blood and sweat, built them temples to their feral gods.”

The fae really don't like to use magic to build things do they?

“Especially if the High Fae start turning up—or worse, one of the High Lords. They would make the martax seem like dogs.”

Why would the high fae and high lords specifically have a worse reputation than literal monsters?

Also why do we never hear about Martaxes again? If I were F/eyre I'd absolutely ask about every wild thing I'd ever heard about Faeries and magic.

“They’re dangerous,” Nesta hissed, her fingers digging into my arm as she continued to pull me from the mercenary. “Don’t go near them again.”

I think it's worth noting that as much as Nesta and Elain are frustrating in these chapters, they are also defenseless and scared of the world around them.

“He’d been my first and only lover in the two years since.”

Honestly, good for F/eyre for not letting purity culture stop her from having a good time.

“I reached into my pocket, drawing out a twenty-mark copper. Elain sucked in a breath, and I didn’t bother to look at either of my sisters as I pushed it into her palm and said, “I’ll see you at home.”

F/eyre can complain about Nesta stealing her money, but I'm not sure she can complain about how her sisters spend her money if she just gives it to them and doesn't even tell them what they are supposed to spend the money on.

“But I hadn’t scolded them for it, not when Nesta went out a second time to chop more wood without my asking.”

More wood chopping! Nesta clearly hates being told what to do, but might actually do it if she can do it on her own terms. Relatable.

Not necessarily anti F/eyre, but /// just in case.

[changing-the-paradigm]

The Ocean, The Food Industry, and The Overlap

Last week, we discussed biodiversity loss on land, so this week’s first topic is naturally the aquatic side of the issue. Two major themes I found within the broad subject were the role that coral is playing as humans continue to destroy the environment and the devastating effects of poor fishing practices. The latter issue blends seamlessly into the week’s second topic: food production. Interestingly, coral has been documented as a species that has consistently died off in all five mass extinctions, disappearing for millions of years. This aligns with the current behavior of coral considering we have now entered the Earth’s sixth mass extinction. Coral is bleaching at an alarming rate. This and previous instances of mass bleaching are likely due to the fact that coral is such a delicate and sensitive organism. In some ways, I see parallels between it and indicator species. When the coral is dying, there is trouble. The only issue is that the bleaching occurs very rapidly, and resolving the sources of distress will be no easy feat. Scientists fear that if nothing is done to save coral reefs, they will disappear for millions of years as they have in the past. Aside from this specific case study revolving around harm to the ocean, problems with fishing practices are another major threat to aquatic ecosystems as well as food production for humans. One of the biggest issues is general overfishing, which occurs as a result of industry quotas needing to be met. Government subsidies also contribute to this. Overfishing can occur with the harvesting of any marine species. It simply means that the species is being fished at an unsustainable rate and cannot replenish its populations. This, of course, leads to biodiversity loss since the gene pools for certain species are made significantly smaller, and some species die out entirely, which puts a strain on the whole ecosystem. Other problems surrounding fishing practices have less to do with wiping out individual species and are more problematic because of the collateral damage they cause. For example, drift net fishing unintentionally catches other aquatic creatures besides the intended ones. This is called bycatch. The loss of biodiversity in aquatic ecosystems poses risk for everyone, but it will first impact those that rely on marine life for income and food. There are also a plethora of concerns with the food industry, and the ones I found to be most notable in the reading were crop-based and meat-based. Industrial agriculture has its own set of inefficiencies, one of which is monoculture. While meant to be best for the economy, the practice is terrible for soil. The meat industry is also in dire need of rebuilding. Not only is the rate at which humans are consuming meat unhealthy, but it is also jeopardizing the environment by wasting energy and water on crops to feed livestock and producing large amounts of greenhouse gases.

When it comes to solutions, there is plenty to be done for fishing practices. First, the creation of marine life reserves can help preserve coral reefs and keep certain species of fish safe from the dangers of extinction. Maintaining biodiversity in this way could be beneficial for the ocean as a whole. Passing legislation plays a part in reserves, but it can go even further and help protect certain endangered species directly. In the textbook, the specific focus is less on fixing the damage and more on preventing future damage. Miller and Spoolman discuss this, saying, “[m]any scientists support efforts to restore aquatic systems, but they warn that these projects could fail if the problems that caused their degradation are not addressed. They call for more emphasis on preventing aquatic ecosystem degradation, which is far less expensive and more effective than restoration efforts” (Miller and Spoolman 248). I believe there is a good balance between both strategies. In terms of agriculture, my favorite solution to the dangers of monoculture is very simple. Crop rotation helps keep soil healthy and produces quality food. No-till farming is a technique that goes along with crop rotation that promotes healthy soil and prevents the dangers of monoculture. When it comes to the meat industry, I feel that an entire reworking of the system may be necessary. However, since that is unlikely to occur and would be very difficult, there are several “smaller” things we can do. The first is full-cost pricing. Meat is often as cheap as it is because the price of the harm its production causes is not factored in. By implementing full-cost pricing, global meat consumption will lower and hopefully even out. The second is a bit more drastic. I, along with many other scientists, propose a mass effort to consciously reduce meat consumption. Some even advocate for its removal from our diets entirely, though I am not convinced of the need for such an extreme. Even Bill Nye supports this idea and has been quoted saying, “[p]lant-based diets are the future” (qtd. in Lockie).

Question: would a reconstruction of the agriculture industry as a whole be possible, or is it too large a scale?

Word Count: 829

Works Cited

Lockie, Robbie. “Bill Nye The Science Guy: Plant-Based Diets Are The Future!” Plant Based News, 19 April 2017, https://plantbasednews.org/news/bill-nye-the-science-guy-plant-based-diets-are-the-future/. Accessed 14 November 2022.

Miller, G. Tyler, and Scott Spoolman. Living in the Environment. Cengage Learning, 2021.

Sommer, Lauren. “Australia's Great Barrier Reef is hit with mass coral bleaching yet again.” NPR, 26 March 2022, https://www.npr.org/2022/03/26/1088886918/australia-great-barrier-reef-coral-bleaching-climate. Accessed 15 November 2022.

11/15/22

[furiousgoldfish]

Trauma symptoms caused by childhood abuse

Early symptoms (childhood and teenage years):

Inability to show pain and vulnerability to others

deep belief that you ‘have to be tough’, secretly fearing that you’re weak and pathetic if you ever shed any tears or break down in pain

personality changes from outgoing and social, to isolated and quiet, trying not to be noticed

feeling like there’s something deeply wrong with you, deep belief that you’re some kind of monster who deserves to be punished

fear that if someone finds out about whats happening to you, they will blame you and hurt you worse

anxiety around adults, always being scared you’ll annoy someone and be hurt for it

very low attention to your needs and wants, feeling pride in neglecting your own well being, even neglecting your pain

belief that your value is tied to how much pain and mistreatment you can endure

urge to self harm, or outright hurting yourself

feeling like you want to disappear, or not be born at all, contemplating suicide

self hatred, feeling extremely negative about yourself and feeling like things would be better if you didn’t exist

spending phases of time being emotionless, feeling like a zombie and not caring about anything

foreshortened sense of future (belief that you wont live for much longer, inability to see your future or plan for it)

not feeling the consequences of events in the real time, or not at all; for instance, being completely unphased by a violent outburst or screaming, not feeling pain when you’re hurt, or not feeling the exhaustion when you’re clearly overworked

strong urge to not think about certain topics or events, or inability to do so

fear that your body is wrong and disgusting, anxiety about anyone seeing it but desperate need for validation that you’re normal

deep sense of shame in yourself, your actions and your appearance

strong investment in finding excuses for people who do bad things, always trying to see things from their angle and to forgive them

feeling like the blame for any bad thing in the world can be put on you

not feeling like a human being, belief that you’re less than human

feeling like your home is not here and you do not belong on this planet

feeling uncomfortable being touched and wanting people to back off

uncontrolled ourbursts of rage

looking for anything to soothe your pain or distract you, indulging with obsessions or drugs

early development of anxiety disorder, depression, insomnia, ocd

trying to regress your age and force yourself to stay younger than you are, because you feel like your value is dropping with age and nobody will care for you anymore

trying to desperately take control over some aspects of your life, which can result in overdoing or completely neglecting school, losing yourself in virtual life, eating disorders, self harm or magic thinking that enables you to believe you can control your circumstances

in case of a sexual trauma, innapropriate sexual behaviour, deep shame tied to your body, indulging in sexual interactions even before puberty, feeling like you’re meant to be used, violent or forceful sexual fantasies accompanied with shame, fear of touch, fear of anyone finding out, reaching out for pornographic material to put your experience into perspective

feeling desperate to appear normal and clinging very strongly to the perception that your childhood is normal

Later symtoms, can develop anytime after puberty, can be in 20s or 30s or even 50s:

Emotional

Flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, freezing up in terror, beyond average amounts of fear and dread

Trust issues, either trusting without suspicion even when you shouldn’t or trusting nobody and feeling completely alone in the world

Episodes of re-living traumatic events from childhood or later in life; emotional meltdowns

Being unable to leave the past and feeling frozen in the moments of trauma

Emotional flashbacks, feeling the events from past as if they’re happening now, except this time you feel it thousand times stronger and completely fall apart from the horror of it

Feeling unstable, ashamed for not being able to control your emotions, fear of being judged, mocked or humiliated for it, trying desperately to not feel it, using distractions or drugs

Self doubt, struggling to know what is real and what isn’t, doubting your memories and emotions, trying to only feel what you believe is obliged from you

Questioning the past over and over again, trying to find sense and who to blame

Trying desperately to put your relationship with your abuser(s) into perspective, feeling both guilt and obligation towards them, but also rage and desire to take over control from them

Self harm, self-destructive behaviour, suicidal behaviour, wanting to die to end the pain

Deep and overwhelming grief over loss of childhood and loss of trust in people you believed wouldn’t hurt you, or believed they were doing it for your good, which now proved not to be true

Depression, loss of joy in anything you used to like doing, loss of optimism in life

Losing the courage to try anything, regardless of how much it would benefit you, if there’s even a slight chance of getting hurt in a way you find impossible to endure, living passively

Feeling irreparably damaged and ruined

Getting lost in maladaptive daydreaming, fiction, or the virtual world, feeling unable to face reality, falling to obsessions or addictions to endure the pain

Feeling other people’s feelings as if they’re your own, especially feelings of pain, anxiety, fear, nervousness, anger or grief; trying to soothe them and especially having strong reactions to anger

Feeling overwhelmed whenever around people, feeling the urge to self-isolate and to be completely alone

Being hit with extreme amounts of rage and struggling to process it; worrying about misdirecting the rage or acting on it, violent fantasies

Getting stuck in a mindset of a child and barely able, or unable to do any grown-up tasks

Struggling to achieve even minimum function, or not functioning at all

Losing the will or the energy to participate in any activities you used to enjoy

Fighting or indulging the urge to normalize what happened or make it ‘not that bad’, trying to re-live it in a way that wouldn’t be traumatic, especally with sexual trauma, needing to perceive it as if it would be normal only if it was ‘consensual’ or more controlled and trying to find a way to frame it as ‘not that big of a deal’ and denying it’s hurting you

Beating yourself up horribly for still being upset and traumatized by events that happened long ago

Inability to have friends or form connections with others, high alert for betrayal and manipulation

Avoding places and people connected to the trauma, getting easily triggered and forced to re-live something that needs recovery time of days or weeks

Losing your sense of reality; not being sure where you are or what year is it for some periods of time, feeling like you’re going crazy

Only being able to focus on surviving a short amount of time (just trying to get thru the day or week)

Physical

Extreme anxety; trembling, spending prolonged amount of time tense and expecting danger and pain at every second, inability to calm down, limbs not working properly, fainting out of fear

Continually activated “fight or flight” response, always feeling endangered, trouble digesting food because your body shuts down your digestion in order for you to be able to escape faster, vomiting, stomach pains after eating

Hyperventilation, problems with breathing, feeling there’s “no air” in small or crowded spaces

Chronic exhaustion, feeling heavy weight over your body, having difficulty moving at all

Chronic pain, tension in your body never leaving, physical pain appearing when you’re experiencing emotional pain, chest pain, heart palpitations

Problems with blood pressure, fainting easily

Dissociation (feeling detached from your emotions and/or body, feeling numb and unreal, your body not feeling yours, feeling outside your body or like you’re stuck in someone else’s body)

Memory issues, not being able to remember whole parts of your life, weak short term memory, not being able to look back on your life in linear way or put the events in they order they happened in, mixing several events into one, remembering feelings but not events

Increased sensitivity to noise, getting very upset at any non recognizable sound, reacting with irritability or rage to background noises, or with terror at loud noises; needing complete silence, or constant soothing background noise

Extreme sensitivity to stress, having to block out stressful things from memory, having physical reactions to stress, like shaking, your hair falling out, feeling incapable of dealing with even minimally stressful tasks

Dry mouth in the night, overheating during the nightmares, getting so distressed after sleep you can’t move from the bed for hours, not calming down for days

Not being able to control your body, falling down and shaking uncontrollably, even trashing around as your body processes violence done to it

Not being able to relax or calm down without experiencing physical pain, feeling addicted to abuse and indulging in self harm, or letting someone else hurt you so that you might gain a moment of not feeling tense, stressed and scared

Feeling sensations of pain or discomfort on your body even when nothing is happening to it, especially the body parts that have been violated in some way; in case of sexual trauma it would mean private parts, in case of overworking yourself or break yourself with effort, pain in all muscles and joints

In case of sexual trauma, reoccurring memories of it, trouble figuring out your sexuality, wanting to escape your body or perceiving it in a distorted way, urge to repeat the trauma to get desensitized to it, hypersexual behaviour or complete lack of interest in sexuality

Weight gain or loss, hatred of your body and desire to change or hurt it, or complete neglect over body, lack of any self care of even acknowledging you need it

Difficulty sleeping or being awake, feeling too high alert to fall asleep or dropping out of consciousness from overexhaustion

Inability to focus or finish tasks, procrastinating or feeling sick just knowing there is a task you have to do.

 If you struggle(d) with 5 or more of early ones, or 5 or more of later ones, you’ve been dealing with trauma.

[lowcountry-gothic]

Why Sayid ends up with Shannon—not Nadia—in the sideways church

I feel like I’m one of the few Lost fans to actually like Sayid and Shannon’s relationship, and to think they actually have chemistry together. Most people prefer him with Nadia, since so much of his life was devoted to finding her again, and I often hear the complaint that he should have ended up with her, not Shannon, at the church in the show’s final scene. 

I happen to vehemently disagree—and not just because I ship Sayid and Shannon. The two ending up together is actually a better resolution to Sayid’s character arc.

Just think about it for a second. What is the greatest obstacle to Sayid’s growth, to his struggle to heal from the pain and suffering in his past? Guilt. He feels he’s done terrible things, as a soldier and specifically a torturer, that can never be erased or justified. His moral compass is intense and exacting, so it’s nearly impossible for him to forgive himself, leading to a pattern of rehashing the same toxic cycle of doing new terrible things for “The Greater Good” (the title of a season 1 Sayid-centric episode), hoping that this “greater good” can counterbalance his sins while simultaneously knowing it never can. Ultimately and inevitably, this results in adding further guilt to his grand total. 

So what’s the solution? How can he break free? Well, he tries doing constructive (pun unintended) good by building houses for charity in the Dominican Republic. And that seems to work to some extent, in the short term. He’s never really given the chance to see if it works in the long term; but maybe that’s a good thing. 

Because Sayid is a smart guy. On some level he’s gotta realize: how do you ever erase the guilt of so much torture and killing? What is the exchange rate between one house built and one human life taken?

No, the only way out of the cycle is just that—to get out of the cycle. To forgive himself. To opt out of this transactional paradigm of redemption altogether, realizing that the worth and goodness of a human being cannot be measured merely by the sum of their best or worst deeds.

Now, stepping back for a minute, I think the main role Nadia plays in Sayid’s life is as a representation of this transactional view of his worth. She’s someone he has wronged in the past, so if he can find her, help her, and love her, he can finally be redeemed, because these positive deeds will outweigh the harm he did to her. That harm represents all his worst deeds in his mind, so mending that specific harm would represent, to him, atoning for all of his guilt. 

I would argue that this is less genuine love, and more an entanglement, perhaps what a Buddhist would call attachment. He freed her from the prison in Iraq because she had become a mirror of his cruelty back to him, choosing to show love to him rather than hate or resentment, and making him feel the weight of his actions and the pain they caused her. 

Which is both interesting and ironic, because by showing him love rather than hate—by insisting on seeing his continued humanity in spite of the inhumanity of his actions—she is showing him the true way out. 

That’s his road to healing. If he could see himself how she sees him, he could begin to forgive himself. 

But he doesn’t see any of that. He only feels the horrible weight of his guilt, and clings to her as a way to earn himself a redemption.

(I think it’s also meaningful that, while he has always struggled with guilt, it never really weighed him down in a crippling, existential way until Nadia died. To my mind, that further links her, or rather the idea of her in Sayid’s mind, to his chance to redeem himself and ease his guilt via loving her and making her happy.)

Meanwhile, in the present day on the Island, we have Shannon, who at the beginning of the show is herself stuck in a similar state of entanglement / attachment with Boone, although one based on resentment and blame rather than on guilt; she resents the love his mother never gave her, as well as the privilege and career success he enjoyed while her dreams were consistently frustrated. She is stuck in a similar cycle of taunting Boone, giving him a little of what he wants, and then pulling away from him again in an attempt to punish him or to even the score.

(None of which is conscious, of course—just as Sayid’s guilt / redemption cycle is probably entirely subconscious to him.) 

But then in comes John Locke, who tells Shannon that on this Island, everyone gets a new life, a new start, a new chance. And she listens. She at least begins to take that chance, begins to disentangle herself from Boone (though not entirely; but who among us has ever entirely reached their goal yet? It’s always a journey) and allow herself to be happy with Sayid.

So if Nadia represents Sayid’s belief in a transactional method of redemption, in which good can outnumber the bad and thus somehow undo it or give it less meaning, then Shannon represents this path of disentangling from old, toxic cycles and beginning to start over, leaving the past in the past, and living in the present moment. 

I don’t think Sayid ever really escapes his own toxic cycle in his lifetime. Without subtracting from its meaningfulness in any way, his sacrifice in “The Candidate” is still nonetheless an attempt to balance the scales. So it makes perfect sense that, in the flash-sideways world, he continues in the same vein. I think it’s significant that right before meeting Shannon again in the sideways, Sayid asks Hurley, while waiting with him in the van in front of the alley, what he has done to earn Hurley’s trust. Note the key word here: earn. 

Even now, Sayid is still thinking transactionally. But note also Hurley’s reply: he merely says, “I think you’re a good guy, Sayid.” 

In other words, Hurley affirms Sayid’s inherent worth and value and goodness, regardless of his actions.

When Sayid finally “wakes up” by touching Shannon, the memories he flashes to are not the moments when he proved his worth to her or to the others on the Island, but the simple, lighthearted moments when the two of them were beginning to build something new, when he began, for the first and perhaps the only time on the Island, to let himself leave behind the weight of his past. 

So yes, I think it’s beautiful and resonant and meaningful for him to be with Shannon, rather than with Nadia, in the church in “The End.” With Nadia, I think the implication would have been that he had finally redeemed himself, had somehow magically earned enough good deed points to climb out of that yawning pit of moral debt. But being with Shannon shows us, rather, that he’s finally ready to forgive himself—to allow himself the peace and happiness he‘d unconsciously denied himself in life by clinging to guilt as a part of his identity. He’s finally free.

[kaythefloppa]

KashimusPrime Beware Post - Re-Post:

Hi, it's me, kaythefloppa, or if you know me on Deviantart, QueenFluffy1994. Or at least.. I was QueenFluffy1994.

In June of this year, I made a callout post of Lion King fandom veteran, KashimusPrime, who was the admin behind her blog, Laughable-Lion-King-Art. Both Kashimus, and her blog, were involved in some pretty shady activity which piled upon itself more and more until it became a mess. So I spent my last few weeks at school compiling evidence of 20 screenshots and 5 working URLs of both the blog and Kashimus's misdeeds.

However, things changed, and not for the better after that.

Deviantart's staff, ruled that my call-out post was a violation of their policies against harassment. I.e, they believed I was attacking Kash and not... idk, exposing her for her toxic influence over the fandom that directly harmed a vast majority of people, minors especially included.

After battling this for some months and trying to find a loophole, my Deviantart account eventually got suspended for good, and my call-out post went down with it. The document remained intact, but sadly, my call-out went under the dust, and Kashimus has yet again, failed to act on her promise of improvement (as if that was fucking possible), so I'm reposting my call-out in the form of a Google Doc:

A basic TLDR: She's attacked minors over art styles, defends whitewashing, claims "blackwashing" exists, has micromanaged a LOT, and is a proshipper. In terms of that case, she has used topics like fascism and oppression of minorities in defense of her being a proshipping, which minimalizes the trauma and persecution that minorities and victims of cults, racism, fascism, queerphobia, and other methods of oppresion go through (she also said this as a 30 yr old white lady who more than likely is not a victim of either of the forms of oppression I listed, which is once again, tone deaf of her).

Her first response was her dodging the issue. Her second response was her half-apologizing for my accusations, but defending herself using both context, time, and flat-out lies, and also failing to address the other major factors I've used, whilst hiding comments of, and blocking people who criticized her and gave her advice on improvement. And as expected, she hasn't done good on her promise to improve granted that she's continuing to flex being a proshipper, and lumping together "antis" with fascists and cultists, acting like the oppressed, (wait, no, she never promised to stop being a proshitter, she defended that and continued on her merry way).

And that's not even going into how she got into contact with one of my abusers, who is a serial child-stalker, threatened my life when I blacklisted him, got access to my blacklist through him, called me a liar about of my abuse story and traumatic experience with the person she contacted, all of which happened to me when I was 14 years old, and then using all that parrot her racist, proship, insensitive hypocritical agenda that her blog has become a mouth-piece for thanks to her own incompetence, which is lowkey the reason I decided to bring this doc back from its grave.

[helliontherapscallion]

Hello! Um hopefully this is ok but can you do a platonic poly relationship with tech reader and philza? And one day the reader comes over to there abode with a basket full of sweets and pastries (muffins bread ect-) also cottagecore quiet reader please she/they pronouns

Thank you! :D

(A/N): I’m back yall! Sorry I’ve been gone (in terms of writing/request doing) for so long, I just kinda lost motivation to write for a bit

Ok so you’re childhood best friends with Technoblade

You two met when you accidentally bumped into each other in the village by the sbi fam’s house

You were calmly along the cobblestone path when a cute dress in a store window caught your eye. You kept walking, but you were eyeing the dress as you walked by it. It was just your aesthetic: a vintage ruby red dress with laces tying the two sides together, a floused opening to the bottom of the dress, and puffy white sleeves. It looked like it was in your size too. It was absolutely perfect.

Just as you were about to walk into the store to check out the price, you bumped into someone and fell to the ground behind you. Looking up, you saw that the person that you bumped into was also on the ground looking at you. You saw that the boy was about your age with fair skin and long pastel pink hair tied into a messy ponytail. Peculiarly, he had small tusks poking out from his bottom lip, floppy pig ears on the top of his head, and crimson eyes. A piglin hybrid perhaps?

Feeling a small blush work it’s way onto your face, you quickly got up and held out a hand to the boy. “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going! Are you okay? Here, let me help you up.” 

He looked at your hand for a bit before he grabbed it with his own and allowed you to haul him up to his feet. You looked him up and down scanning him for any injuries he might’ve gotten from the fall. Luckily, it didn’t look like he got hurt. The boy looked down at his feet and bent over to pick up the picnic basket and the few muffins that dropped out of it. Putting the muffins back in, he handed the basket back to you with a small smile and a blush of his own.

“It’s really no problem, I’m fine so it’s no harm done. Actually,” he chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, “I wasn’t looking where I was going either. I got distracted by that sword in the window.” He pointed with a thumb over his shoulder at the armory shop next to the dress shop. In the window was a shining golden sword glimmering in the bright sunlight. If you squinted, you could see a sign that said that it had a high level fire aspect and looting enchantments. 

“Well, it looks really pretty. I don’t know much about swords, so maybe you could tell me about them? I’m (y/n),” you gave him a small smile and stuck out your hand once more. He shook it with a grin, “Technoblade.”

That was the start of a beautiful friendship with him and his family

You met Philza, his father

The avian was extremely excited and happy that his quietest son finally made a new friend

He treated you like you were his own daughter

You might as well be a part of the family with how much you came over to babysit Tommy or to just relax with Techno

You always bring over a basket of baked treats/pastries whenever you came over

Lemme just say, the family feasted and always fought over the last one

When you started to come over at least once a day for a bit with a basket full of sweets, Philza had to pull you aside and ask you to slow down a bit with the treats

“Hey (y/n) could I actually talk to you for a second?”

“Sure! Tech, I’ll be out in a sec.” The piglin hybrid curtly nodded and walked out the back door to the backyard. You smiled at Philza before you set the basket down onto the table and started to put the rolls onto a plate.

“I know it’s not much today, I didn’t have much time yesterday to bake.”

“That’s fine, but it’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Internally, you began to panic slightly. Oh Ender, you didn’t do anything bad did you? You couldn’t think of anything you did wrong. In fact, you actively avoided any wrongdoing or talking to strangers. Oh no, were you accidentally rude to someone?

“You aren’t in trouble,” he smiled lightly when he saw you slump in relief, “I was just wondering why you always bring over baked things. Don’t get me wrong, they’re delicious and we really appreciate that you take the time to make us things, but we kinda have a little too much. Maybe slow down a bit with bringing them over?”

You felt an embarrassed blush spread across your face as you nodded and put all your focus into transferring the bread rolls over to the plate. “Sorry Phil, I just bake whenever I’m stressed or bored and I just have a lot left over after I give some to my family.”

“And that’s completely valid! Just maybe don’t bring over so much, breaking up the fights with Tommy, Wil, and Tech just gets a bit much at times,” he grinned and clapped a hand over your shoulder.

As the years passed, you and Techno only grew closer

You taught Techno how to do meticulous neat braids in his hair while in turn he taught you some self defense

Mans makes sure you can properly and efficiently wield a sword and shoot a bow and arrow 

Poor guy can’t lose another friend

When he moves to the tundra, he invites you to live with him but you reluctantly refuse

You had Tommy and Wilbur to look after in L’manberg

Being pissed at Schlatt when he exiles them

Following them into exile leaving behind shocked Manbergians 

They didn’t think you were capable of the screaming, let alone such profanity

Practically launching yourself at Techno when he agrees to helping Pogtopia

Him making sure that the withers don’t harm you, even going as far as hitting them and luring them away from you

Staying with Techno after L’manberg is reinstated under Tubbo’s rule

Starting to dislike leadership and governments in general after Tommy gets exiled (again)

Convincing Technoblade to let Tommy stay with you two

Absolutely hating governments when the Butcher Army places Philza under house arrest and rolls up to your guys’ house and takes Techno and Carl

They lock you in the house, but you pick the lock with the bobby pin you kept the bandana pinned to your hair with 

You follow them to L’manberg and break down when you see the anvils crashing down onto Techno

Screaming profanities at the Butcher Army and taking out your sword to attack them not noticing when Techno runs away safely

Philza watching everything from the balcony and cheering you on

You almost take away one of Fundy’s (whom you considered to be your nephew until the whole Butcher Army incident) lives before you feel a sword slice your arm and an arrow shooting its way through your thigh

Turning, you gave Tubbo and Ranboo the fiercest glare you could as you were standing over a half-dead Fundy with a sword dripping blood hanging at your side

You, the soft spoken and sweet one that gave everybody baked goods wherever you went, screaming profanities at the festival and the execution was scary enough, but this?

Absolute nightmare fuel, gonna stick in their minds for a long time

You attempt to fight them but you lose and end up with injuries too severe for you to continue fighting

Philza being the one to yell at you to go home to the tundra telling you that Techno’s alive bc of a totem of undying 

You felt kinda stupid after that, Technoblade never dies (you often half joked that he was immortal like Philza)

You limp home and get met with a bone crushing uncharacteristic hug from Techno

He patches you up after reassuring you that the blood on him wasn’t his (he tells you about the duel in great detail)

In turn you tell him about your 3 v 1 duel, feeling a bit dejected bc you ended up losing

Him being literally so proud of you for facing 3 people at once, but also scolding you slightly for going into it blindly

When Philza moves in, everything feels complete and fulfilled (at least to you)

You help Philza clean and dress his damaged wing

Also helping him do some physical therapy so that he could at least move it

Comforting him whenever he felt down about not being able to fly again

You invite him and Techno to cook with you and it surprisingly ends up better than you expected it to be

When Tommy betrays Techno, you and Philza end up being the only ones he could fully trust (later slowly adding Niki and Ranboo to the mix when The Syndicate is formed)

You are Harpocrates when The Syndicate is formed due to your quiet nature

Philza and Techno fully 100% supporting your decision of not wanting to reveal your identity

At the second meeting you show up with a full mask covering your face and the opposite of what you normally wore (more of a grunge type beat)

Only communicating in nods and writing at meetings, living up to your nickname

You never reveal your identity to Niki or Ranboo

Pleasant late night conversations around the fire with hot chocolate and your baked goods

Techno still lets you braid his hair (sometimes you even put flowers in it) from time to time

You braid Philza’s hair when it gets too long

Braid chains when yall get too bored? Hell yeah 

Ultimately, you three become a strong family unit (goals)

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch  @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng  @404rynnotfound  @luluwinchester  @laura--444  @the-cult-classic-bitch  @youngstarfishdinosaur

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

------------------------

Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

------------------------

The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

------------------------

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

------------------------

BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

------------------------

GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

[therenlover]

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

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Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,���

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

-------------

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater​ , @elaineygrace​, @multiyfandomgirl40​ ,  @lovelymischief​ , @rami-malek-trash​ , @dazzlingseb​, @avgravy​ , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno​ , @forcebros​ , @sugarsweetkiss​ , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff​ , @killsandthrills​ , @novasstudy​ , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp​ , @inmate-marmalade​, @alanathedeer​ , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ 

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[no-reply95]

The Power Of Framing: John and Paul

Over the last few days I've been posting some quotes of interest that I'd bookmarked from Mark Lewisohn's Tune In book.

Tune In's reputation preceded it, every Beatles podcast I listened to mentioned it, Lewisohn's name either came up in conversation or the man himself would turn up for an interview so it got to the point that Tune In was so ubiquitous that I had to read the book and form an opinion for myself.

There are a lot of opinions I have on Tune In, both good and bad, but I'm not going touch on all of that here, at least not in this post.

The aspect of Lewisohn's narrative style that I want to get into is the way he frames the "bad" behaviour displayed by John and Paul.

There are two quotes from the book that I want to analyse, I'll start with John first:

John

“George was second only to John in the swallowing of Prellies and knew better than most the sum effect of taking too many for too long, how the combination of pills plus booze plus several sleepless days caused hallucinations and extreme conduct. He’d describe one occasion when he, Paul and Pete were lying in their bunk beds, trying to sleep, only for John to barge into the room in a wild state. ‘One night John came in and some chick was in bed with Paul and he cut all her clothes up with a pair of scissors, and was stabbing the wardrobe. Everybody was lying in bed thinking, “Oh fuck, I hope he doesn’t kill me.” [He was] a frothing mad person - he knew how to have “fun”.

Handling John was something his friends were well used to doing. If he didn’t murder them in their beds there was no greater buddy. They might fear for their lives but they loved him still. No way would they walk out and join another group. John was just John, and Paul and George’s hero-worship stayed fully intact.”

The above passage comes from the stint in Hamburg directly after Stu's death. John had always been the one to take the most prellies, as Lewisohn highlights, but he relays the fact that John was even more messed up than before subsequent to Stu's sudden death. I've highlighted a couple of lines from the extract to highlight how John's behaviour is framed by Lewisohn:

"the combination of pills plus booze plus several sleepless days caused hallucinations and extreme conduct"

From the outset Lewisohn is careful to outline the fact that John is under the influence of both bills and booze as well as being exhausted as a result of "several sleepless days" which has the sum impact of causing hallucinations and "extreme conduct" so in short, Lewisohn suggests that this behaviour from John is atypical and directly related to the substances and conditions he is under, the subsequent behaviour he displays, therefore, isn't a function of his innate personality, just a reaction to the chemicals and circumstances he currently finds himself beholden to.

"he, Paul and Pete were lying in their bunk beds, trying to sleep"

In terms of those impacted by John's actions, it isn't one individual that Lewisohn highlights, it's George, Paul and Pete, which to me suggests that anyone could have been on the receiving end of John's outburst. When describing the bedroom scene prior to John's entrance, Lewisohn describes the three guys as "trying to sleep", so a picture is painted of a quiet room where there's a lack of activity as everyone is tired and, either on their way to or currently, asleep.

"some chick was in bed with Paul and he cut all her clothes up with a pair of scissors, and was stabbing the wardrobe"

Firstly, the story that George relates (source Anthology, 2000), unlike the scene Lewisohn sets, makes it clear that there was only one target for John's outburst, not George, Pete or even Paul but an unnamed woman whose only crime was to be "in bed with Paul" so, far from trying to get to sleep, Paul was in fact having sex with this woman when John barged into the room. John, in the altered state that he's in, zeroes in on this woman by cutting up her clothes and stabbing at the wardrobe - it's a scary scene that George describes, so what is the lasting impression Lewisohn leaves us with?

"John was just John, and Paul and George’s hero-worship stayed fully intact.”

Despite the shock of the scene that George describes, ultimately John's behaviour has no lasting impact on his relationships with the others or on the future of the band. Lewisohn confirms that "Paul and George's hero-worship stayed fully intact" so not only was their view of John unharmed but they continued to hold him in the highest possible esteem, but how did they rationalise the unpredictability of John's behaviour? Well, "John was just John" the others knew that this was how John got from time to time, this was nothing new for them and their hero worship continued on, the core relationships were unaffected and the operation of the band was unscathed because there was no way that George and Paul would ever leave and join another band so, all in all, no harm done.

Paul

“Brian, John and George went to the Beehive and John used a public box to call Paul, returning with the message ‘He says he’s not coming.’ Brian must have been apoplectic: they’d be unable to play the booking, letting down the university and their paying audience, embarrassing him, ruining their chance of a rebooking, and undoing his repair work to the Beatles’ old bad reputation. He went back to his office to phone Paul, but Paul refused to speak. Jim informed Brian that Paul said he wouldn’t be turning up, and that was that.

Recalling the night five years later, Paul told of how, having discovered Brian and the others hadn’t waited outside his house for him, he decided ‘Fuck them - if they can’t be arsed waiting for me, I can’t be arsed going after them. So I sat down and watched telly.’ Jim was unable to persuade Paul to change his mind. Paul said he’d felt he’d always been ‘the keen one’, so now he’d go sharp the other way and make no effort at all.

John saw a bigger picture, and it would be surprising if it wasn’t equally obvious, or made obvious to Brian and George. He likened Paul’s enduring snag with Brian to his other long-standing difficulty: ‘[Brian] and Paul didn’t get along - it was a bit like [Stuart and Paul] between the two of them’.”

The above passage comes from a time in the Beatles' career, not long after they've agreed to take Brian on as their manager. Brian's hard work on their behalf is starting to pay off and they're getting the opportunity to do loads of gigs for good money. Lewisohn discusses an instance where Brian goes to 20 Forthlin Road to pick up Paul for the night's gig only to be told that he's running late and won't be able to get going for a while. As with the first passage, I've highlighted a couple of lines to highlight how Paul's behaviour is framed:

"Brian must have been apoplectic"

In this passage Lewisohn provides his interpretation of how Brian must have felt to turn up at Paul's house only to find that he'd defied his instructions to be on time. Right from the beginning of this story we are able to empathise with Brian, as the principle victim of Paul's actions.

"letting down the university and their paying audience, embarrassing him, ruining their chance of a rebooking, and undoing his repair work to the Beatles’ old bad reputation."

For the avoidance of doubt, Lewisohn details the wide reaching impact of Paul's behaviour and the list of the aggrieved is long: the university, the paying audience and ultimately the band, all the hard work that they and Brian have put in has been undone by Paul's actions and the tarnished reputation of old is back with a vengeance.

"John saw a bigger picture, and it would be surprising if it wasn’t equally obvious, or made obvious to Brian and George. He likened Paul’s enduring snag with Brian to his other long-standing difficulty: ‘[Brian] and Paul didn’t get along - it was a bit like [Stuart and Paul] between the two of them’.”

If the reader was left wondering if this was a one-off incident or if Paul was just having a bad day that he'd taken out on Brian, Lewisohn suggests that this was, in fact, part of a pattern of behaviour as "John saw a bigger picture" and Lewisohn remarks that "it would be surprising" if both Brian and George weren't equally aware of the bigger forces at play here. To reinforce the lasting implications of Paul's actions, Lewisohn talks about "Paul's enduring snag with Brian" and then likens it to Paul's other "long-standing difficulty" with Stu, which triggers the readers' knowledge of Paul's jealousy of Stu's closeness to John and invites the reader to also view Paul's relationship with Brian through that lens. The extract is then capped up by a quote from John (source, McCabe and Schonfled interview, 1971), seemingly, supporting Lewisohn's premise by linking the clash between Paul and Brian to the clash, that Lewisohn has already expertly laid out in his book, between Paul and Stu.

How the framing differs

In both excerpts I've pulled Lewisohn uses direct quotes from the principles as well as his own interpretation, both to varying impacts.

In the first excerpt, Lewisohn provides a context for John's behaviour, it's not long after Stu has died, John is under the influence of a cocktail of drugs and substances, so we're led to feel sympathy for the state that he's in and to excuse the frightening behaviour that subsequently follows. Lewisohn doesn't offer any context for Paul's behaviour, we assume that Paul is sober and of sound mind so there's no confusion as to the fact that Paul is in full control of his actions so we're less likely to excuse or able to rationalise his actions.

The preamble that Lewisohn writes prior to George's recounting of John barging into the room, mentions George, Pete and Paul being present, so Lewisohn gives us the impression that John's later actions are almost random, maybe it could have been Pete, or George, it just happened to be the woman in bed with Paul who triggered John's anger. We never hear about how the woman reacted to having her clothes torn to shreds just because she slept with Paul, Lewisohn doesn't offer any thoughts to Paul's reaction to having John barging into the room and raising hell while he was sharing an intimate moment with this woman. In stark contract, we're told precisely by Lewisohn about how he presumes Brian felt in the face of Paul's obstinance and the seriousness isn't lost on the reader because every possible group of people negatively impacted is called out with evocative language (i.e. embarrassing, ruining).

Lewisohn frames the Hamburg scissors incident in such a way that it's clear that this was just a blip on the band's radar, the "hero-worship" of George and Paul is undimmed and we're given the framework, either by accident or design, by which to view any similar outburst in the future, it's just John, he may overdo it from time to time but his negative actions will never be consequential because the love and worship the others have for him will never be overcome "no way would they walk out and join another group" because no matter what John did, Paul and George would condone it, stick by him and love him regardless, so why shouldn't we?

However, Lewisohn couldn't be clearer that Paul's disobedience of Brian was part of a larger pattern of behaviour that was detrimental to the band, John could see the bigger picture, the same bigger picture that was "obvious" to Brian and George. Rather than startling an unnamed German woman (Lewisohn leaves this to our imagination) Lewisohn carefully plots out how Paul's actions directly hurt the band and the good work they'd been doing with Brian's help. Far from a moment of chemically induced madness, Paul's behaviour is familiar, we've seen it before with Stu, now we're seeing it with Brian - Lewisohn is clear that the seeds of the break up are sewn in Tune In so is he suggesting that the behaviour Paul displays here can also be traced to 1969?

Was this difference in framing called for?

These two stories outlining John and Paul's behaviour aren't identical, one takes place in Hamburg in the privacy of a bedroom and directly impacts two people while the other takes place in Liverpool and directly impacts several people as well as the band, it could be argued that on this basis these situations Lewisohn was justified in framing these two incidents differently.

However, there are several similarities that I can spot between the behaviour John and Paul displayed:

Pattern of behaviour - Lewisohn appears to be making the case that John's outburst was purely circumstantial while Paul's clash with Brian was part of a longstanding jealousy issue Paul had of anyone close to John. I do think that jealousy may have been a factor in the clashes Paul had initially with Brian (as referenced briefly in my Jealous Guys post) but in my opinion there are complexities that exist with Paul's relationship with Brian (namely around Paul's dislike of authority figures and need for control) that don't exist in Paul's relationship with Stu or, further down the road, Yoko as neither Stu nor Yoko were ever in a position of authority over Paul, John didn't bring them into the band as a manager or producer so I think the more natural comparison is Stu and Yoko not Stu and Brian. Further, despite Lewisohn's descriptions to the contrary and lack of relation to a bigger picture, John's behaviour here was in fact part of a pattern of behaviour, this woman wasn't the first and would not be the last of Paul's love interests that John reacted negatively to; Jane Asher, Peggy Lipton and ultimately Linda would feel the brunt of John's negative attention throughout the Beatles and post-Beatles years, this was an opportunity for Lewisohn to lay the groundwork of that but unfortunately he didn't want to connect these particular dots.

Impact on the band - Lewisohn is at pains to outline how George and Paul weren't going anywhere and there's no suggestion that John's actions would have any impact on the band or its future but, with the hindsight we have, is that correct? Even before Hamburg, John is abusing alcohol, largely to numb the effects of the sudden death of his mother, then in Hamburg, he's now abusing drugs too which negatively impacts his behaviour. For the rest of the Beatle years John's substance abuse issues appear again and again (Bob Wooler incident at Paul's 21st birthday, destruction of ego and fall in productivity due to prolonged LSD use, increase in the communication issues in the band in the wake of John and Yoko's heroin addiction). If Lewisohn was really interested in giving us the bigger picture, why didn't he outline the detrimental impact that John's substance abuse issues were having on the band, all it would have taken was for him to help the reader to understand how the woman and Paul felt as a result of John's actions but instead he uses this story as another opportunity to reinforce the idea that Paul and George hero-worshipped John.

Links to the break up: In many of his podcast interviews (Nothing Is Real and Fabcast spring to mind) Lewisohn is clear that, although the events of the break-up are years away from being committed to paper, the roots are laid out in Tune In. Paul's clash with Brian is framed in such a way to underscore how it fostered long difficulties between Paul and the band's manager in a way that was obvious to the others, does that sound familiar? If we sub Klein in for Brian, we've suddenly been transported to the summer of '69, I believe this is intentional and given the pretty uncharitable way Paul's actions are described (Paul should have been on time but leaving without him so that he had to take several buses instead only made everyone later and poured gasoline on an already open flame, neither Paul, Brian or the band won in this situation which I think all parties came to realise at a later stage) we're already being conditioned to believe that by the time it's 1969 this reckoning for Paul has been a long time coming and we should be glad that John, George, Ringo and Klein are finally stand up to Paul's immature power plays. However, can the break up also be traced to John's actions. As already discussed, the first excerpt outlines one of the first instances of John's substance abuse negatively impacting the band, in 1961 he's destroying a woman's clothing, cock-blocking Paul and terrorising everyone, in 1969 he's in a heroin haze with Yoko which hinders the already frayed communication links with the rest of the band and fosters an environment where, to John, only "JohnandYoko" matter ("I mean, I’m not going to lie, you know. I would sacrifice you all for her [Ono]", Get Back Sessions, 1969) to the extent that they're able to be wooed by Allen Klein who knows exactly what John and Yoko want so they allow him to give it to them, irrespective of what the rest of band need or want.

In the end, I have no problem with either story being included in Tune In, neither John or Paul were saints and in these instances we can see aspects of their personality that will feature, for better and for worse, over the course of the rest of the Beatles' career and, in John's case, his life. However, it is a shame that time and time again, when given the opportunity to frame John and Paul's actions Lewisohn opts to minimise John's misdeeds via his emphasis on Paul and George's love and patience for him, while for Paul almost no context is provided for his negative actions and Lewisohn subtlety begins to plot the lines that will eventually lead to the 3 to 1 split and the lawsuit that, not only breaks up the band but ensures they never reform again. The part Paul plays in the break-up does have roots in his personality, which we see glimpses of in his interactions with Brian in 1961 (he won't be pushed around and his reaction to being pushed is to fight back not fall in line) but we also see John's role start to take shape too (the unpredictability of his actions under the influence of substances and the chain of events that would occur as a result i.e. LSD - loss of ego - jealousy of Paul's output and his loss of dominance - openness to Klein who identifies John as the leader and reinforces his belief in his supremacy in the Lennon-McCartney partnership as well as filling John with misinformation like reminding him he wrote most of Eleanor Rigby). It's a problem that only Paul's negative reactions and missteps are framed in the wider context of the band because this skews the story and fails to accurately plot the role John also played in the band's demise. If Lewisohn's aim is to provide us with a balanced, definitive take on the band's story then, based on this evidence, he's falling short.

[delimeful]

you cant go back (3)

warnings: panic, miscommunication, trafficking, non-consensual drug use, suicidal thoughts, food, mentions of torture, cliffhanger, these tags make it sound worse than it is tbh  

-

When Virgil first opened his eyes, jerked out of sleep by sharp instinctual alarm, he’d thought for a moment that he was still dreaming.

It was the same face, after all, even with how frighteningly close it was, even with a vastly different expression painted across it. He’d been confused, almost relieved-- had they gotten away after all?-- and then he’d realized just what the Deathworlder had in their arms.

He’d lunged and come up short, forced to watch as the Human kept their arms locked around Patch even as the creature made unhappy little noises he’d never heard from it before. 

It was so small compared to the Human, easily tucked under an arm and managed regardless of protests. Did they have no respect for the deadly grace of the other creatures on this planet?

They’d circled him from a distance, ignoring his warning twitches and outright hisses as thoroughly as they ignored Patch, and all he could do was watch, locked in place, hoping that Human prey drive wasn’t as high as all the rumors said.

And then the Human had left, taking Patch with them, and Virgil had been left to watch their fading heat signature and pray to Seryl that whatever the Human did would be quick. For both of them.

It wasn’t that easy, of course. The Human wanted something from him, badly.

He thought he had a fair idea of what-- or rather, who-- it was.

After all, he’d seen a near-perfect mirror of them, sitting bound and muzzled in their transfer ship’s holding cell where a Human absolutely shouldn’t be. Leond and her Second had been unnaturally gleeful for rotations before Virgil finally found out about the ‘successful pickup’, namely through stumbling across it by doing the routine security and safety checks that he didn’t trust the rest of these idiots to do themselves.

They’d cut him off before he could get to a comm to tell Janus, cornered him in the tight cell block hall, and offered him a deal: his silence for a cut of the immense earnings they would make from renting out a Human to any and all fighting rings.

He remembered the way the Human’s gaze had flickered between him and the others curiously as he argued, the way they’d struggled to bare their teeth derisively at Leond, even through the bars of their muzzle and the haze of whatever they’d been drugged with. It was one of the last things he’d seen before he’d ‘made a fuss’ big enough that his own crew had tranq’d him and ditched him on-planet to die.

“You’re right,” Leond had said, face smooth in the way that meant smug satisfaction for her species. “We haven’t fulfilled our half of the exchange, have we? We took an alien from that planet, so it’s only fair that we leave one behind.”

His limbs had been defensively raised since the beginning of the argument, but Virgil had fought side by side with these people before. They knew how to guard his blind spots, which meant that they knew his blind spots.

The Human had tried to speak through the muzzle, just before he’d heard the discharge sound of a tranq gun too close to dodge. He thought it might have been an attempted warning.

It hadn’t changed anything. He’d been the only one on that ship who’d opposed the Human’s abduction, and as a reward, he was going to be slowly interrogated to death by one of their clutchmates. The level of cruel irony was like something from one of Jan’s stupid operas.

Virgil felt another shudder of exhaustion. Stars, he hoped Janus would get out of there once he realized what they’d brought back. His best friend knew better than to fuck with Humans, and the crew clearly wasn’t going to listen to any interplanetary ethics lectures, so the best thing he could do was skip town. Better to rebuild than fall with the nest.

He hadn’t slept after the Human had left, flipping to his heat sensor vision and watching all night for their return, unable to relax after one of the most unpleasant awakenings of his life. And if it meant he didn’t dream about what could have happened to Patches, all the better.

The next day had come, and the Human returned, wielding that dull stick and asking more angry questions that Virgil couldn’t understand, let alone respond to.

The thing was, given enough time and exposure, he actually would be able to understand the specifics of what was wanted from him.

Like most long-term interstellar travelers, he had a Lator implant, and the more the Human talked at him, the more linguistic patterns and trends would be picked up and catalogued, making it much easier for him to put the pieces together.

Unfortunately, time wasn’t something he had an excess of.

Janus would have figured out at least the basics by now; in addition to being better with words, he’d gotten a more recent, effective upgrade to the implant’s software. Virgil had turned the offer down for himself, knowing that they needed to save money where they could, and figuring that he didn’t really need it. His job was to defend Janus. His First could handle the talking part of their missions on his own with ease, the chatterbox that he was.

It had seemed obvious at the time. A lot of good that logic was doing him now.

The Human said something at him, flashing his bone-white teeth as he spoke. Humans didn’t have guard plates over their mouths at all, and so every time this one turned to him, he felt as though they were either acting sickeningly overfamiliar or that they might lunge forward and try to bite him at any moment. He’d carefully kept his own plates locked, not willing to expose any teeth and have it mistaken for a challenge.

The Human was waiting expectantly. Virgil took a deep breath and replied, the same as he had every time he could, though he doubted Humans had access to translator implants.

“I am not here to harm anyone. I was abandoned here against my will. I can’t understand what you’re saying,” he recited in Guard-tongue, keeping the sentences brief and repetitive for easy translation pattern recognition.

The Human wasn’t extending him the same courtesy, his own sentences long-winded and full of unfamiliar concepts that kept tripping up the Lator programming. References, probably.

There was one Human word that he’d figured out fairly early on: Brother.

Clutchmate, family, the lookalike that was probably long gone by now.

He was almost glad that he couldn’t speak coherently. As it was, he didn’t have to be the one to break the news.

Almost, because the Human was stubbornly finding new and creative ways to freak him the hell out with each visit.

First, they’d figured out fairly quickly that he was slowly starving.

Virgil had flooded his plates right to pitch on their first meeting, and hadn’t been calm enough to stop the defensive reaction since, which had quickly drained what little hydration stores he’d had left. Between the drying out of his plates and the fact that he’d gotten too worked up and blacked out for a moment during an interrogation, his fading health wasn’t exactly subtle.

He’d panicked, because any enemy knowing his weakness was generally pretty fucking bad, let alone an enemy with personal motive and ability to twist that weakness like a knife in the spine.

The Human had verbally freaked out (a regular occurrence) and vanished for a while, before returning to the barn with an entire array of items (not a regular occurrence). They’d set the items out on flat fiber ‘plates’ and then slid them into range with that stupid stick.

Virgil had stabbed a few of them on principle before realizing that this was food, aided by the Human rolling his eyes pointedly-- a derisive gesture, he’d gathered-- and eating something from a plate of their own.

At that point, Virgil had been willing to risk poison. The way he saw it, he either died, or he ate something, and either way it meant stopping the slow, aching pain eating away at the pit of his stomach.

He’d even been willing to tolerate the Human staring at him, since apparently they didn’t have the manners to not watch a stranger eat. Or that wasn’t a thing on this planet. It didn’t really matter.

After a significant amount of time spent using his auxiliary limbs to delicately maneuver Human produce and meats into inspection range, he settled for what smelled the least concerning, avoiding any that smelled or looked too bright to be safe.

(The scrunched-up look the Human had given him after he’d crunched an egg in his throat had been hard to interpret, though.)

Anything he could safely ingest, he’d eaten. After the Human left, he’d even attempted the indignity of trying to lift the bowl of water in range with wobbly limbs, though he’d almost immediately spilled the majority of it all over himself. It didn’t matter, he could pull any and all hydration from what he’d eaten, though he didn’t dare get used to it.

This wasn’t his first time above the nest, and he hadn’t fooled himself into believing that this shocking show of generosity would last. The Human had only done it to make sure that their hostage wouldn’t keel over.

Starvation and dehydration were more-than-effective methods of hands-off torture, after all, and the Human really only needed to give him enough to keep him alive.

The impending mistreatment shouldn’t have shaken him as much as it did. He had the advantage of the Human’s ignorance on how much Chelcerae ate, and his own resilience, developed from years of scraping by on the barest of rations. He was lucky, really, to be one of the species with a water-storing organ.

Still, he spent the night wondering if it was worth it to keep fighting. There was no escape, so wouldn’t it be better to go out on his own terms, before anything truly horrendous could happen to him?

Probably. The real question was: would he have the fortitude to turn down food all the way to a slow and painful death-via-starvation?

He wasn’t sure, and he continued to be resentful of the fact that he even had to make such a choice all the way up until the next day, when the Human walked in with a plate covered in everything he’d eaten yesterday and slid it over to him, simple as anything.

“What?” the Human snapped after a moment of Virgil watching them for any indication of what to do, and he’d hurriedly flickered his heat sensor eyes in hopes of placating any offense. The Human had grumbled indistinctly, but didn’t attempt to remove the plate or even threaten to do so.

The next day was the same. Though the Human continued to try and interrogate and occasionally intimidate him, the food and drink was provided without stipulation or hesitation. It was… strange.

Virgil refused to read into it. Perhaps Humans just had meals so frequently that skipping a single day would be as barbaric as weeks of starvation for Chelcerae. Maybe once the Human had enough of his noncompliance, they were going to feast on his flesh and didn’t want a stringy meal. It was impossible to know.

The generous feeding schedule was nothing, though, compared to some of the other questionable tendencies the Human had.

They traversed the grounds in and around the barn with little wariness, apparently quite confident in their ability to defend themself on the Deathworld they’d grown up on. They brushed insects and plant matter alike off their person with little care for poisons or bites.

Their body language seemed to consist of every threat display in the wayfarer guidebook, and worse, only a quarter of these threat displays seemed intentional. Virgil was constantly tense, attempting to figure out which were intended to cow him, and how to keep his own body language from worsening the damage. Any signal of terrified compliance, even the obvious tremor of his auxiliary limbs, only seemed to prompt wariness and confusion from the Human.

They’d found his helmet and immediately put it on, which had made his fuzz prickle with hope for a moment, before remembering that the reserve battery of the headset was well and truly dead. No emergency translators for the Human, and no upturns in luck for Virgil.

Maybe it was better. Even if the Human could talk to him, he would seem just as guilty for their brother’s disappearance in their eyes. It wasn’t even an accusation he could reasonably defend against; if things had gone differently, if he’d made smarter choices, maybe he could have gotten the captured Human free.

Janus would have managed it. He’d always been a quicker mind than Virgil.

It’d been three days since the Human had found him, and Virgil had barely managed to parse a handful of imperatives and nouns from someone who was basically just yelling the same things at him over and over.

“You can’t ---- the ---- ---------, you ----- --------! I ---- what I ---- and --- ----- to it!” the Human yelled, essentially proving his point. Virgil resisted the urge to let his chin drop down to his collar in exhausted resignation.

It was difficult to focus past the old pains from the fight with Leond, and the new pains from being strapped upright for days on end. Even if he could bring himself to pay closer attention, it wouldn’t make it easier to parse words he had no context for. Lator technology worked best when both parties were exchanging words, or at the very least, when there was more than one native speaker prattling on at you!

The Human inhaled to continue and then froze, prompting Virgil to slink his shoulders up slightly, something that had worked to show his non-aggression once or twice before. The Human wasn’t focused on him, though, whirling around to face the barn doors with their body rigid.

Because he’d never been good at uncertainty, Virgil flicked his heat-sensor eyes open just as another Human-sized mass reached the doors, moving in a predator’s stalk.

Well, he thought as the door creaked open, I’m screwed.