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bubblegumbeech · 4 years ago

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Finding Home

Phic Phight Prompt by @hauntedozone

Sequel to Home with no Memories

He’d been alone on the road for a week now.

In all honesty he should be half dead, exhausted and starving and desperate to find something to eat or drink. But he wasn’t. Well, he was exhausted, just, more emotionally.

It would be easier, he thinks, if he knew who he really was.

His memories were still so fractured so damaged, he didn’t even really know what he was looking for. Just that he was following some vague idea, a concept, a feeling of family and comfort and home and everything a parent was supposed to provide.

So why was he walking away from them?

Easy, Danny thought, It’s because parents or not, those feelings of safety and comfort? Weren’t something they could provide. Even when they tried, even when all that effort was put forward to be those perfect, sitcom style parents, they couldn’t do the bare minimum and not lie to his face .

He wanted Jazz.

He didn’t even know who she was. Not really. But he wanted the feelings that came with the odd memory of her, the comfort, the warmth. The vague annoyance that he was so sure family members were supposed to feel towards each other instead of the full blown fear that held him in its grasp whenever Maddie- his mother - got near him.

In all honesty he wanted to know who he was. What he was. Daniel James Fenton. Missing for five years before being found, unconscious by his parents and brought to a hospital where they kept him for a month, planning their fake lives, their lies, and everything else.

That’s what he does remember. But who else was he?

Why didn’t he look any older? Where were the others? Why was he the only one found and why was it five years later?

But Danny didn’t have the answers. He might never have the answers. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to go look for them. First, however, he needed a place to start.

It was novel, being alone. It was pretty freeing as well, no pressure to pretend to be the child that someone else had been missing, no fear of being discovered doing something wrong. No fear of discovering something and it being wrong.

Danny had gotten used to being a wanderer, following a gentle tug in his core that seemed to pull him further and further away. There was no knowing where he was going, and he didn’t exactly have fair for a bus, or food, or really anything at all. So he had to just keep walking.

It took him a week before the hunger hit, and it hit harder than he’d expected. There was something wrong about it, he couldn’t help but think, he’d never heard of hunger being this deep, of seeping into one’s chest. His stomach growled, and he felt a tug towards something. He followed.

The tug took him towards a rest stop with a small diner, open 24/7 and full to the brim with truckers and other poor souls either caught on the road late at night or spending their lives transient and traveling. Just like Danny was now. He wouldn’t mind it, honestly, if he didn’t have the bone deep feeling that he was supposed to be somewhere, and that it was wrong for him to be away.

He walked in, hoping he passed for old enough to be driving on his own, and sat down at a table in the corner. The hunger was so much, just so much and he hadn’t eaten in so long. He’d been convinced that whatever it was his parents had done to him, it had taken away his hunger. It seemed now, that hadn’t been the case.

Maybe he could order food and run? There were plenty of places to hide in the woods, and he’d be good for at least another week right? Unless he just couldn’t feel hunger until it was pressing, didn’t he read somewhere that humans can go a week without food? He was still human, right?

“Hey sweetheart, where’s your parents?” asked an older lady in a waitress uniform, her hair was tied back in a tight but messy bun, and her apron was covered in stains. She set down a glass of water, looking worried and Danny smiled, tried not to look as tired as he was.

“I just got my license,” he lied, “so this is kinda my first roadtrip.”

A flicker of understanding passed behind her eyes and she smiled, “got lost huh?”

Danny ducked his head, an attempt at feigning embarrassment. She just shook her head and handed him a menu, “let me know what you want okay? And don’t let any of these old losers bully you, they’re the rough and rowdy kind.”

Nodding his thanks, Danny opened the menu. It was full of foods he couldn’t fully remember, things he wanted to try, but his eyes landed first and foremost on the burger on the top right. Out of all of them, that one felt the most familiar and he tucked the Menu away.

He sipped on his water, trying not to gulp it down too quickly. He didn’t want anyone to think he was desperate, they might think he was a runaway. They might call his parents. He needed to make it through this without being too suspicious, just eat, and run. Easy. People did it everyday.

When the waitress came back and he placed his order she didn’t look twice at his half empty water, just filled it quickly with the water from her jug and promised his food would be out right away. He waited eagerly.

Eventually, in an attempt to ignore the hunger eating away at the very center of him, he started people watching. He was in a small booth in the corner, so it wasn’t difficult to look around, see all the different people living their lives in the exact same place Danny happened to be.

There were a few sitting alone, silently reading the newspaper or some book, but most were sitting in groups, talking loudly and sharing exploits. Danny had no way of knowing if these people were strangers or friends with each other but he ached none the less.

What would Sam be like, sitting here surrounded by rednecks? In the few fuzzy memories Danny had, she always looked so elegant, all black clothes, sharp eyeliner, expensive fabrics. He couldn’t picture her in a place like this. Then again, he could barely picture her at all. The only truly solid image he’d had of her was from the article.

The one that proclaimed her missing. Along with Tucker and Jazz and Danny himself. He fought back tears, there was no use in breaking down now. He had to find answers, somehow.

His stomach growled again.

After he ate of course. The waitress came back with a huge burger and a whole plate of fries he hadn’t ordered and set it down in front of him. Danny had looked up at her, ready to tell her the mistake, but she simply waved him off and explained it was on the house. He looked hungry after all.

And well, he was. He tucked into the burger, and then the fries, and by the time he’d finished it all along with his third glass of water, his stomach was full to bursting and he had to sit back and take a deep breath. But despite the meal, he was still hungry. He could feel it, the pull in his chest screaming out for something, but he couldn’t eat another bite. He’d tried.

He fought back tears. What was wrong with him now?

The waitress walked over once she noticed he was done, “are you alright? Was the burger no good?” she asked and Danny shook his head, trying not to let her see his face.

“It was fine. Better than any burger I can remember,” he forced a smile.

She frowned, not taken in at all, “Sweetheart, I know our food ain’t that good. Something wrong? You want me to call someone-?”

“No!” he shouted, a touch too fast and far too loud. “No, I … I have to do this on my own.”

The waitress shook her head, she was practically flooded with worry and concern and it tasted almost bitter on his tongue. Tasted. Danny frowned.

“I- Do you want to hear a joke?” he asked.

Startled the waitress set down her jug, “of course sugar, let’s hear your joke.”

It was clear she was humoring him, but Danny didn’t care. He needed something, and there was an inkling of a possibility, a thought that maybe this might work, and he was going to jump on it with everything he had.

“Where does the General keep his armies?” he asked, banking on his knowledge from reading popsicle puns when he was sneaking out back home. No, not home. Back where his parents were.

The waitress rolled her eyes, “I suppose in the barracks?” she smiled.

“Nope, in his sleevies. Do you think glass coffins will be a success?”

“I don’t-” she tried to say, caught off guard by the pun and trying to humor him with a laugh, but failing, obviously, in her confusion.

“Remains to be seen. Did you hear about the guy who lost his left arm?”

“Uh no I-”

“Ehh, his hand writing’s all right now-” his joke was interrupted when he heard her bark out a laugh, a genuine one and Danny’s chest hummed with the sound. He breathed it in, and felt something ease, just a little, in his chest.

“I’m glad you laughed, my usual clientele don’t usually get my jokes. It's hard to explain puns to kleptomaniacs. They always take things so literally.”

This one had her snorting behind her hand and looking at him completely anew, “kid you are something else you know that? This your attempt at getting a free meal?”

Danny smiled awkwardly, “is it working?”

She rolled her eyes, “keep trying charmer. I’ll go get your bill.”

Danny absorbed just a bit more of her laughter before she left, letting it settle under his skin, comforting and energetic. It wasn’t enough, not nearly, he realized, but it took away the edge and he found himself feeling mostly normal again. Well, as normal as someone who could apparently eat emotions was.

He was gone before she returned.

It was an unsettling feeling to be sure. He still wasn’t fully confident he still needed to eat, if the only thing that had taken away the painful emptiness in his chest was going to be emotions. What else was wrong with him? He didn’t age, or if he did it was slowly, he didn’t eat actual food, the cuts and scrapes he had gotten while walking through the trees to follow that tug, that pull in his chest that kept him going, all went away as quickly as they appeared. He was almost tempted to cut his hand deeper and time it as the skin stitched together.

Was that something his mother had done?

One thing he did know, he needed sleep. It was to biggest hurdle in his entire time traveling, almost a week away from home and he’d needed sleep more than anything else and it was almost grounding. It helped him feel human even as he laid awake, looking at the stars and somehow knowing the names of every constellation but not remembering why.

He wondered if Tucker was okay. If he’d complain about traveling like this or insist they took some gas guzzling car. Would he have counter arguments to Danny’s fractured morals, comment on how one little meal won’t hurt a restaurant but it could be life or death for him. That felt like something Tucker would say.

Danny kept walking.

He’d prepared after the first stop at the roadside diner. First, he’d shoplifted protein bars and trailmix,then he’d charmed the rest stop cashier into a roiling laugh after defending her from a particularly rambunctious drunk that had wandered in and made a mess of things. She’d thought it was hilarious to watch a grown man get his ass handed to him by a teenager, and Danny’s chest had practically purred with the satisfaction. As if that right there had been the first meal he’d had in months.

After that he felt lighter, like gravity wasn’t affecting him as much, and the pull on his chest got stronger, leading him away and into a certain uncertainty. He was excited now, pushing all the thoughts of experiments and inhumanity aside, there was an adventure to be had. And he was going to have it.

Looking at the stars helped too.

It was secondary of course, but whenever he felt frustrated, or tired, or on the edge of just stopping and giving up right then and there, he’d look up at the stars. Orion was there, watching over him, the big dipper and canis major, and every other constellation he could point out with ease. It gave him the energy he’d needed to go on, keep moving forward. To find the answers he so desperately needed.

One of the things he stole had been a watch. It was a large, ticking one that had caught his eye as he walked around the large store, trying not to seem to suspicious. It reminded him of something, the analogue clock he'd convinced Maddie and Jack to buy before he ran away perhaps? Or maybe, it was the ticking that was familiar. Either way it had been a comfort when he wrapped it around his wrist, holding it up occasionally to his ear just to listen. He let himself have it, this one thing that brought him comfort as he fled the only possible home he could remember.

It helped him sleep at night.

The first time Danny disappeared, it was because he was scared.

He was in the middle of the woods, decently far off the trail and mostly unconcerned with being found. Most people wouldn’t be out this far, this late, and they certainly wouldn’t be so far off the trail. Which was why, when he’d heard voices, hushed and excited, he went still.

Danny knew why he was here, the instinct he was following, homing beacon, whatever it was, it didn’t care where roads were, and it cared even less for forest paths. He wouldn’t get lost, and even if he was out here in the woods for sometime, he’d figured out exactly how to keep the hunger at bay. At least, for long enough.

The voices grew louder and Danny tried to think of what to do. Did they know he was out here? He hadn’t exactly been bothering to keep quiet, and if he could hear the crunch of leaves and foliage underneath the stranger’s boots as they walked nearer and nearer, then surely they had heard his own, far less careful steps.

Thinking, quickly and with no small amount of panic, Danny stayed still and calmed his breathing. If they knew he was in the area but he didn’t make a sound, it would take luck to find him, or some kind of tracking skill, shit. His eyes started looking around at the trees, picking out branches he might use to climb, but none of them looked like they’d hold his weight. Even if he himself felt lighter, it was unlikely a tree would agree with him.

He struggled to calm his breathing as the voices stopped, but the steps grew louder. What should he do? They were coming straight towards him? Why would they stop talking if they were trying, somehow, to sneak up on him?

His heart beat in his chest, an uncomfortably fast rhythm and Danny squeezed his eyes closed just as he heard someone break through the thick of trees in front of him.

“Brett there’s no one here,” a voice spoke, less than a foot away and full of gravel.

Danny opened his eyes.

There were two men in front of him, both holding weapons, one was a large pistol that had Danny’s heart almost stop once he caught sight of it, while the other was holding a large machete, likely used to make traveling through the wood like this easier.

“He’s hiding then,” said the stranger with the gun, “you saw the snag of blue fabric on the tree. He definitely went this way. Just, look in the bushes or something.”

The other guy, the first one to push past the trees and into the small space Danny was now standing, sharing with them, started swinging his weapon around and calling out in a sing song voice that had the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck rising.

“Come on out kiddo~.” he said, “we’re just worried about you. It isn’t safe getting lost alone in the woods at night. I mean, who knows what kind of scary people you could run into-”

Bret had slapped him on the back of the head, and ignoring his partner’s cry of outrage, said “you idiot. Do you even know how not to run your mouth?”

“Oh come on,” he’d said, carelessly waving his machete around, inches from where Danny was standing, back flush against the bark of a tree. Danny sucked in his breath to avoid being nicked. Even if they apparently couldn’t see him, the last thing he wanted was them getting a bit of blood on the blade and wondering where exactly it was from. “What’s he gonna do? Run? It’ll be easier to catch him then.”

Danny had to admit, that was certainly true. But he was eying a small trail between two of the trees nonetheless, maybe even if he made noise, if he was still invisible they wouldn’t be able to find him right?

The blade slid through his chest and into the tree.

He didn’t breath, didn’t risk the rise and fall movement of his chest, and braced for the pain. Like an idiot he’d gotten distracted, let them put a giant knife through him, and now he was going to bleed out in the middle of the woods on some quest for answers he didn’t know existed. His thoughts raced past, half formed memories that he’d been holding onto with desperation and emotions he didn’t properly remember feeling, interspersed with the image of his parents, crying on the driveway as he walked away. Was this what happens when an amnesiac watches their life flash before their eyes?

The blade got taken out of the tree, a thick piece of bark falling off and onto the forest floor before the man sheathed the thing. Danny raised his hand to his chest, confused. The pain had never come.

In fact, it was like nothing had happened at all. The blade had simply gone through him.

Like a ghost.

He ran away, running through trees and their branches, his steps silent and weightless, his hands barely there and transparent as he lifted them in front of his eyes. This wasn’t possible. It didn’t make sense, people can't just stop existing like this. That’s something he’d know, someone would have mentioned it as a possibility.

Right?

Something was wrong, horribly wrong and Danny fought against the feeling bubbling up in his chest, tried to force it down, and ran face first into a tree.

Groaning, he felt around his tender nose. Apparently being incorporeal wasn’t a permanent thing, it was just… something he could do now. Or maybe, it was something he could always do. How much of him as he currently existed, was from his parents experimentation, and how much was from when they’d tried to “fix him”. Would he ever get an answer?

Danny let his head fall back into the grass and listened for the sound of anyone following him. It would be quite a feat, he supposed, if they even realized he’d left with the way it went down. So instead he looked up at the sky, started counting stars, and let himself fall asleep right there. This dream was of an endless forest and a strange, guttural language he’d never heard before, but found himself understanding.

After he got out of the woods he went to a small town. It was nice, cozy even and the people were pleasant to be around. Even if they threw him the occasional odd look due to his filthy worn hoodie and unwashed hair. He took the chance to sneak into a gas station bathroom and try to wash some of the dirt that had caked on his face, there was nothing he could do about the dark circles though. They were a permanent fixture at this point and Danny almost wouldn’t recognize himself without them.

Once he was finished with that, he walked around a bit more, looking for stuff he could do, people he could help. The ache in his chest had come back after his long stint in the woods, and he was eager to take this opportunity to try and soothe it.

Unfortunately, a filthy stranger walking around town wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy character and Danny struggled to find anything he could do that wouldn’t just scare someone off. It was when he’d asked around outside the arcade if anyone needed help with something around town, that an adult man had stopped what he was doing, looked him up and down, and said “you trying to get a job?”

Danny, not knowing really how to answer, just nodded. He was, in reality, just trying to find someone to help payment not needed, but he wasn’t going to turn down an offer like that either.

The man just sighed and said that he’d needed help moving some of the machines into the back and that, legally, it was a two person job. He offered twenty bucks and Danny shook his hand eagerly, a large smile on his face.

The man introduced himself as Marsh Hangreeve and explained that there were about half a dozen machines that needed to get moved, either they were broken without repair, no one really played them any more, or they were so outdated that all the cords were starting to fray and become a health hazard to the younger kids that sometimes wandered around the arcade.

The first one they lifted had been lighter than Danny was expecting, and they were able to easily maneuver it exactly where Marsh had wanted it in the back storage closet. Once they’d set it down, he’d had given Danny an approving look, nodded, and led him to the next one.

They were on their way back from carrying the fourth, and Danny was feeling pretty pleased with himself, when a kid no older than six had ran past them and tripped over the wire of one of the damaged games, pulling it off balance. The entire machine tipped back, towering over the fallen child and Danny couldn’t stop himself from running forward if he’d wanted to. His very being hummed and pulled, and he was there, one arm holding up the machine and the other curled around the child, protective.

Marsh had screamed a warning, but it hardly mattered. Danny lifted the machine easily back into place and gently picked up the child in his other arm, before stepping away and setting him back down.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked the frightened child, concerned.

“Is he okay?” Marsh scowled, “are you? Boy I told you those were a two man job why would you run over trying to get yourself squished like that!”

Danny rolled his eyes, clearly it wasn’t as heavy as it had been made out to be, “and let him get crushed instead?”

Looking over at the kid Marsh breathed out a frustrated sigh, “I guess you have a point. But don’t do it again or you can forget the twenty bucks I owe you. Here kid, let’s find your parents.”

Danny smiled, it felt good, helping people.

Was that the human part of him though? Or was it something else?

When Danny and Marsh finished the job he’d gotten his twenty dollars and a free dinner, and Danny gratefully accepted. Despite everything, he really did like being around people. Humans were kind by their very nature, and Danny basked in that feeling as much as he could on his journey. Sure, sometimes he felt more like he was taking advantage than anything else, and it was selfish almost, to seek out civilization only for his own needs.

But he tried not to think about that too much either- it sometimes caused a physical ache in his heart- and let the free meal settle as he fell asleep again, under the stars. They were particularly bright that night and he could have sworn he heard the ticking off a clock as he drifted away to sleep.

It was getting colder. It made sense really, he was headed north afterall. And he’d made plans for that, for the winter cold and the snow. He’d gotten a winter coat from walmart by sneaking in through the walls, it turned out he could spread that particular power to anything he touched, and fought the wave of guilt that hit him every time he did something like that.

He justified it in his mind with two different familiar voices. One that was easy going and carefree and told him, “hey you need that more than anyone else does, besides who’s going to miss one silly coat if it’ll save your life it’s worth it right?” The other was more steady, almost righteous and it said that “large conglomerates like Walmart and other stores gain most of their fortune on the backs of workers. They could stand to lose a bit of merchandise.”

His plan, once it got too cold to stay outside, had been to use the truck stops and sleep there, insulated from the cold at night before heading out again in the morning and continuing to walk. He’d had the fleeting thought, that perhaps he was headed to the north pole, and that there was no way for him to get there, no matter how long he walked, because that just wasn’t what humans can do.

Then again, he should have known better than to think himself limited to what humans can do.

It was when he woke up, covered in snow and more comfortable than he’d been any time Maddie had tucked him into bed under layer and layer of warm blankets, that he realized the cold didn’t just not affect him: it was a comfort.

Danny had held the snow in his hand and marveled at it. It didn’t melt, nor did it’s cold sting at him, and Danny found himself sitting, enraptured, by the intricate detailed designs that every flake formed as it fell. He blew the snow from his hands and watched as more formed, icy and solid and buzzing with the same kind of energy he felt just underneath his skin. Could he make ice now?

Was he Jack Frost or something? It certainly made sense, Jack Frost could apparently turn invisible and supposedly took the form of a young man riding on the wind. Then again, he’d never read anything about Jack Frost being able to turn visible, and Danny didn’t think he could fly.

Could he?

How would someone even go about discovering that?

As eager as he was, Danny wasn’t about to go jumping off cliffs or anything, not when he was so close to his answers. To the end of the rope that’s been leading him, tugging at his chest. So Danny just shook the snow out of his hair, marveled at the comforting soft feel of it, and continued his trek.

Amity Park had a sign on the outskirts proclaiming it “a nice place to live” and Danny felt something click into place as he walked past the town’s boundary. His emotions were suddenly running wild, as if he’d been starving them, and suddenly he could feast. He had to take a step back but there was something stopping him, a cry for help and he ran towards it, energy flowing all around him too much to keep inside too much to hold and he felt as a bright light surrounded him and he flew forward, his legs fading behind him until he came upon a scene straight out of his nightmares.

It was a monster, terrorizing a young woman, probably in her early twenties if that. The monster was large, glowing, and only just opaque enough to not look like some kind of hologram. Danny flew in front of it, putting himself between it and the girl and growling a warning. He wasn’t thinking about how his feet weren’t touching the ground, he refused to question it for fear of the ability going away without his control. He didn’t look down.

The monster stopped, a stunned look on its face, “ghost boy?” it asked. Danny frowned, why did that voice sound familiar? Was he really something from his dreams? How much had he dismissed as fantasy only for it to be reality, law of nature breaking reality?

“What did you call me?” Danny asked, risking a glance to see if the woman had run yet. She hadn’t, instead she was just standing there, smiling, and when she noticed him looking, she waved. He fought a blush, what the hell?

The monster laughed, “I knew you hadn’t Faded! They all told me I was crazy to hunt for prey long dead, But I, Skulker, was right! And here you are!”

Danny didn’t know how to react to that. Did he know this thing? Wait, no, clearly he knew this thing. It was somewhere, scrambled with the rest of his memories. Flashes of cages, and fights, constant paranoia, and Danny felt his hand grow cold as he built ice in it to attack with.

The woman called out though, no longer afraid, “oh please. He’s only been gone, what a year? Weren’t you crying just last month about how much you missed him?”

Danny turned around to face her, “weren’t you scared? Why are you still here?”

At the same time the monster, Skulker, sputtered, “I was merely lamenting the loss of such rare prey!”

The woman just giggled, “how can I leave when my hero has finally retuned to save me~”

There was something weird going on here. For one, everyone seemed to recognize him, but neither of them had used his name. For two, he and this Skulker were clearly floating in the middle of the day and almost no attention was being paid to them at all beyond the woman who’d originally called for help.

Who clearly no longer felt she needed it.

“Hold on,” Danny said, struggling to sort through the information he was being given, “you two know me?”

Skulker’s grin dropped and the girl gasped.

“What do you mean by asking such an absurd question! You and I are mortal enemies! Of course we know each other!” geez, he didn’t have to get so offended.

Danny crossed his arms, “what’s my name?”

“Uh,” Skulker looked down towards the woman before looking back at Danny, “you know you’re usually a bit more tightlipped about that. It’s really not sporting to hunt prey that isn’t in it’s right mind.”

Danny scowled, “why would I be tightlipped about my name? Ugh, this is a waste of time. Just,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “leave the lady alone and go do something I don’t know, Hunter-y that won’t piss me off.”

“Why would I-”

“Or I can freeze you into a block of ice that doesn’t melt,” Danny threatened, feeling the energy build behind his eyes.

At Danny’s glare, the hunter gulped and feigned looking at his watch. “Huh, looks like it’s time to go feed that gorilla, I’ll uh, be back to hunt you later Welp!” He flew away.

Danny sighed and let himself float gently downward until his feet touched the floor. The woman ran over to hug him, eager, and Danny just let himself go intangible, unwilling to be touched so casually by someone who basically amounted to a stranger.

“Do you know my name?” he asked, warily.

She blinked, “Of course! You’re Phantom, ghost boy and savor of Amity Park. Did you hit your head or something?”

“Or something,” he answered, still stuck on something she said, Skulker had called him that as well, “what do you mean when you say ghost boy?”

Her eyes widened and she brought one of her hands, slender and perfectly manicured, to cover her mouth as she gasped. “There is something wrong. I knew you wouldn’t leave for so long without a reason!”

Quicker than he could react to, she grabbed his shoulders and led him to a store front window. Whatever she was trying to show him was probably inside, but Danny was struck instead by his own reflection, ghostly and glowing with bright green eyes.

He disappeared.

The woman called out to him, not thrown at all by his display of power, or by how much a freak he must be. Was he the same as the monster he’d almost fought earlier? They’d called him ghost boy, was Skulker a ghost? Was he?

But he couldn't be. That didn’t make sense.

Someone couldn’t be alive and dead…

Unless…

Experiments…

“We were trying to fix you Danny.”

His chest hurt again. And he followed it subconsciously, taking a path through town on auto pilot, and trying not to think about his changed appearance. When had it happened, why? Was it something he could undo, like the other powers he had?

Why did this town feel so different from all the others? What was the giant spike of energy drawing him like a moth to flame in the center of everything. Was that what was pulling him here? Or was this just where he needed to be?

How long was it going to take to get him memories back anyways. There wasn’t even a clock tower here! Hadn’t that been his goal, the one thing he knew to look for?

His path had brought him to an old torn down building on the end of a residential street. It hurt, for some reason, to look at the rubble around him and not know what happened here, or even what it used to be. But he knew there was something here. He could feel it. The energy buzzed around him and he looked around, checking if there was any other crazy people or dangerous “ghosts” before he simply, let himself fall down through it.

He found a lab.

Not just any lab, but the lab from his nightmares. The beakers, the buttons, the ominous table with thick metal cuffs and dark green slime long dried on it. He put his hand to his chest, almost feeling the scalpel as it sliced into him. Taking a breath, he pushed it away, buried and hidden, he could think about that another day.

For now, all his attention was on the glowing green and purple swirling mass of energy that was singing at him like a song. It pulled him in, and he floated towards it, this power newly discovered and yet second nature, just like all the rest.

He hesitated for a moment, before he went through it. What if what he was looking for was over here, on this side of whatever that was, and he couldn’t get back out? What if he really was dead, and that led to the afterlife? What if he was missing the answers to his questions by going through?

But he’d followed the pull to this town and he’d found familiarity as foreign as it was, and now he was following his gut.

He braced himself and flew through.

What he found was a swirling green void that made no sense and defied what little laws of nature Danny remembered existing, like gravity and sense. Danny had the feeling that it went on, winding and stretching, for an eternity and that no matter what way he went, he could get lost forever and never find his way back.

That didn’t matter though, because right in front of him, larger than life and bigger than anything around it, was the clock-tower he’d been searching for.

It didn’t look like it belonged there, in fact, with it’s size and the relative barrenness of the collections of floating rocks and doors around him, it seemed rather ill placed. Like something had forced it somewhere it didn’t fit and Danny approached it cautiously.

There was no reason to believe that this was safe, just because he wanted it to be, just because his shattered mind had somehow put together that it was. He stood at the doors. In all reality they were ominous and foreboding. The entire tower was, sharp angles, deep purples and glowing greens. He didn’t feel scared though, so he lifted his hand to knock.

The door opened before he even touched wood and there, right in front of him, was another ghost. One he’d never seen before, with blood red eyes and a nasty, twisting scar hidden partially under a deep purple hood and a clock, ticking, familiarly, in his chest.

Danny felt tears build, his lips wobbled, his hands trembled as he clenched them tightly into fists, and when the ghost lifted his arms Danny flew into them clutching tight and crying. He heaved large, ugly sobs into his shoulder and felt a hand stroke down his back to comfort him.

“Welcome home.”

#Danny phantom #Phic Phight #Phic Phight 2021 #phic phight 21 #Clockwork dp #Clockwork #amnesia #Listen I wasn't going to make a sequel!!! the prompt made me do it!!!#Bee's writing

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fatehbaz · 4 years ago

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It is story that weaves our experiences into the landscape and ties us to place. The Zuni maps, to this point, hold a question: To what extent do such stories and myths of place have to be deeply specific to place? There is a tendency in a globalized society to assume that knowledge is open and accessible, able to be reached across the world [...]. In many ways, of course, this is greatly valuable. But the Zuni maps suggest that stories of place -- the ones that really and truly connect us to the lands outside our own front doors -- cannot be downloaded [...] or read in a book. They suggest that the stories that are particularly rooted in the land can only be discovered by taking the dedicated time and attention to encounter the land itself -- over long periods of time, through many seasons. Perhaps stories and myths of place need to have been spun from the threads of this landscape. While it seems easy to believe that what is at the core of any relationship to place is and must be universal, perhaps the language and the telling cannot be universal at all. We are far less likely to care for places if we have not bothered to know or understand them.

Jim Enote, a traditional Zuni farmer and director of the A:shiwi A:wan Museum and Heritage Center, is working with Zuni artists to create maps that bring an indigenous voice and perspective back to the land, countering Western notions of place and geography and challenging the arbitrary borders imposed on the Zuni world. [...] In his map of the reservation lands, Ho’n A:wan Dehwa:we (Our Land), Ronnie painted places and waterways of cultural significance tied to the A:shiwi migration history. His painting features snow-capped plateaus, ancient farming villages, buttes, and lakes [...]. Ho’n A:wan Dehwa:we looks nothing like a typical road atlas. [...] It is full of [...] story [...]. The A:shiwi have been in present-day North America for thousands of years. Twelve thousand members of the tribe live on the Zuni Reservation today. Their sacred lands reach far beyond the reservation boundaries -- trails of prayer snake and meander through the history [...], from the Grand Canyon [...], paths of song ascend the high buttes and tumble with the rain through the arroyo. [...]

Non-Zuni names became canon. [...] For thousands of years, the names of places were interwoven with experiences and stories of the landscape.

After their lands were colonized by the Spanish in the sixteenth century and later claimed by the United States, Indigenous peoples of the Colorado Plateau were left in a deeply familiar territory of unfamiliar names. “The names are in English or Spanish, and so they completely leave off the meaning of the place, and its essence, too,” says Jim. In the 1862 publication of the Johnson Family Atlas, the aboriginal lands of the A:shiwi and the Dine are stamped as the “Military Department of New Mexico.” Even “Zuni” is a foreign word. [...] [A] red flag marks the location of Fort Wingate in northwestern New Mexico, a few miles north of the Zuni Pueblo -- a site established by the United States government in 1860, in part as an effort to displace the Dine people. “‘Fort Wingate’ just tells us that there used to be a fort there that was built in the 1800s,” says Jim. The Zuni name for the site, however, is Bear Spring. “That says something about the environment and the resources, especially the life-sustaining resources, that are there.” [...]

In March of 1877, less than two weeks after his inauguration as the nineteenth president of the United States, an executive order was issued from the office of Rutherford B. Hayes [...]. Over a billion and a half acres of indigenous lands were seized by the United States government between 1776 and 1887 [...]. Once an order had been issued, government surveyors were dispatched to carve out the territory. The maps that resulted from such orders -- atlases, political maps, topographical maps -- became [...] lasting truths of ownership [...]. Such maps are widely assumed to convey objective and universal knowledge of place. They are intended to orient us, to tell us how to get from here to there, to show us precisely where we are.

During the winter solstice, the prayer that relates the Zuni creation and migration history is told in its entirety. Mallery Quetawki grew up on the Zuni Reservation, hearing the prayer every year in the short days of winter. She did not, for a long time, think of this prayer as much more than a beautiful poem. Of a younger generation, Mallery did not grow up speaking Zuni fluently [...]. When the prayers were incorporated into the Zuni maps, however, Mallery was able to relate to them in a way she never had before. “It’s a really great learning experience to actually visualize these prayers, to put prayer into art and into a literal map. [...]” “I was selected to paint our connection between our village and the Grand Canyon area.” [...] Grand Canyon is a map of a traveled landscape, the journey from creation to home. [...]

“It’s place-making power, said by prayer, now that we’ve made it visual,” says Mallery. “It’s an actual map. It made me appreciate where I come from even more.” [...]

The Zuni maps are, first and foremost, for the Zuni people. [...] The maps are in many ways an invitation: How would you map the places that live in your memory? What are the voices of the land that are forgotten, unheard?

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Captions, photography, all text published in multimedia project: Chelsea Steinauer-Scudder (writer). Adam Lofoten (director, producer). Emmanuel Vaughan-Lee (director, producer). ‘Counter Mapping.” Emergence Magazine. April 2018.

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emersonfreepress · 4 years ago

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okay so is there content that you had planned for the ROs and story in general but then scrapped cause there wasn’t a good place in the story to stick it in? and if so, can you share what it was? 👀 👀 👀

yes, definitely. *rubs hands together* oh man, you done asked THE question today xD I can't wait to get into this 😁

Academics. I almost decided to have classes and grades be a minor part of gameplay, but the more time I spent designing it the more I realized I wanted nothing to do with it 😂 I haven’t really enjoyed academic gameplay in other interactive fiction because I 1) hate having to choose between studying and interacting with awesome characters, 2) have terrible short term memory, and 3) hate school in general!! So instead I just opted to have the MC be really good at school, point blank period so I could focus on social drama and relationships instead! 😆

Physical skills. I spent literal months crafting the catering scene around setting up stats for stamina/endurance, dexterity, and strength instead of just magnetism, confidence, and persuasion. They had their own backstories with the MC’s parents being overly invested sports parents instead and I think the background choices were like... martial arts, gymnastics, and track? But yeah, I ended up scrapping it all because I was spending hours on research about those individual sports so I could integrate them into the MC’s narrative organically but like... when I tried to think of what use they would be in the actual story, I came up blank. Best decision yet, esp since it means a lot less coding!

Skin tone customization. For one, I noticed that a lot of my favorite IFs don’t offer that customization and it hasn’t impacted my experience at all. For two, I originally realized I might as well not implement it since I am striving real hard not to introduce any customization that won’t actually be mentioned in interesting or meaningful ways in-story. I don’t think it’s really all that common for real life friends (esp in high school?) to comment or compliment each other’s skin and like... when it comes from someone who doesn’t share a similar complexion or ethnic background, that type of commentary gets... d i c e y. So then I wanted to be sensitive to that but what’s the pay-off? An RO mentioning how they love your skin tone once? Awkward sentences with the MC referring to their own skin color? Idk, just wasn’t vibing with it. I’m open to revisiting it in beta or something but for now it’s scrapped.

Singing, Rapping, and Gaming as Hobbies/Talents. I feel bad about scrapping these, honestly 😂 They’re great and I really wanted to incorporate them but it just came down to already having a lot of stuff to code. Plus, I know I can write the Hobbies/Talents I stuck with far better. And for Book 2 purposes, as well!

Leo. as @sourandflightypeaches asked me about a long while ago, I had to scrap an entire RO 😢 His name is Leo, he was the nephew of wealthy west African diplomats residing in Emerson, and I love him dearly! His backstory was largely based on my mother’s childhood and the circumstances she lived through after immigrating to America. and... ok, i’m about to go on one hell of a tangent so buckle up and bear with me if you can 😅

my intention with this story, aside from writing things that I personally enjoy (graphic violence, spooky woods, social drama, romance, conspiracies 😚), is to explore greed, wealth, and how the ways people and families interact with those two things influence young people and who they grow up to be. here i go sounding pretentious af 😝 and here’s where I apply a cut for those who want to preserve a little mystery to the main characters!

With Gabe, we’ve got someone who grew up with very little stability or financial security but who has found unscrupulous methods to gain status and money, with both noble and selfish motivations.

Kile has some of that childhood experience in common with Gabe, having been in the foster care system since infancy, but they lucked out when they were adopted into massive wealth by a caring, loving couple—a couple that uses their wealth and privilege to be far more lenient and protective of Kile than is actually reasonable or responsible.

Jack comes from a prestigious wealthy family on his dad’s side who he loves dearly but there’s no getting around the fact that they love him back as much as they despise his working class mom.

Jessie is a spoiled sweet heiress (being the baby of her family and the only girl) and while she lives blissfully ignorant of the harmful source and impact of her father's income and career, she bears the weight of the expectation to fulfill very traditional gender roles, including her behavior and appearance, but also extending to her career and life plans.

Rain's wealth led to them growing up sheltered and isolated but also extremely accommodated, giving them maximum freedom and opportunity to discover and develop their personal talents and interests. However, they have almost no positive relationship with their parents who have essentially decided to give up on a kid that couldn't be exactly the accessory they tried to mold them to be—both in terms of their identity and personality.

Rupan/Rohan, at their very core, rejects everything about conformity, self-importance, and excessive luxury—which means they have never, ever truly fit in with their peers. Going full non-conformist, however, has resulted in them becoming alienated from much of their family, as well, despite them all loving each other very much. Their history with false friends and betrayals has led them to over-indulge in their vices and reckless behavior to compensate for that isolation. Sometimes, they just get in over their head and many times, they know better. Every time, it's just that the feeling of finally belonging is utterly intoxicating.

Vivian/Vincent has two extremely successful parents who didn't inherit but instead built up their wealth and they aspire to be just like them, to a degree that is well and truly unhealthy. Their mother specifically is an over-achiever and applies mountainous pressure for them to follow in her footsteps, especially academically. Vi is completely capable of achieving what their mom expects of them, but they were already an extremely sensitive perfectionist so this has made them intensely critical of themself. This is a large part of why they are such a rigid, no-nonsense person and that in turn has made them one of the most disliked people among their peers—which is a huge personal failure to them since their father is a very well-liked and socially successful person in town.

And the Emersons are peak privilege: inherent high social status, brains, looks, charisma, athleticism, and massive wealth. They could never have been anything less than extremely popular, just by virtue of their last name and the nature of the town's social dynamics and politics. And they do enjoy that privilege (esp Curt lol). However, it should go without saying that being so high profile, even (or maybe especially) just in the isolated scope of your hometown, isn't always a boon. Their family's and their own perceived failings are widely discussed and privately mocked and/or celebrated. Real friends are scarce while fake ones and snakes are plentiful. Plus their dad is a gigantic dickhead who sees his kids as extensions of his own status and reputation and not much else. Public shortcomings make for an unbearable time at home and the world outside the estate is at once overly accommodating, full of assumptions, and even subtly hostile at times—all unrelated to their own actions or character.

And with the MC, I think the narrative will make it clear there are several ways that story can go. You start off with irresponsible parents that have lost their wealth due to their own mismanagement and material ambitions—how that affects any individual MC should differ based on choices and consequences!

So why bring any of that up when I was supposed to be talking about my cut OC? 😂😂

Leo was going to be the unwelcome recent addition to his uncle’s household, the son of a brother his aunt hates for (petty af) Reasons, and she took that resentment out on him directly by restricting his access to nearly every aspect of the family's wealth. Especially material goods and living conditions. He was basically treated like the help, tasked with playing nanny for his many younger cousins and burdened with doing the homework and providing academic cover for his dumb as rocks cousin in the same grade as you all. To sum it up, he was basically a victim of trafficking at the hands of his own family with his uncle out of town enough to feign ignorance to how bad his wife was treating his nephew and his aunt going out of her way to keep him busy, at home, and isolated. This is sadly a super common form of trafficking in Francophone African cultures (although I don't think most people view it as trafficking. and I’m sure the same is true of other cultures but I don’t want to speak outside of my purview). And like I mentioned above, it’s how my own mom's (and idek how many cousins') child/teenhood went.

It’s a perspective on modern wealth, privilege and greed that I really, really wanted to tell. I am confident in saying it hasn't been explored in interactive fiction yet (though correct me—and direct me 👀—if I'm wrong) and out of all the wealth/greed explorations I came up with, it's the one I have the closest personal ties to and the strongest feelings about. The characters and plans I had for it were detailed and I'm proud of them but at the end of the day... I just couldn't find a place for Leo in the story at large.

Leo was, in fact, the last main character I came up with, when I had already designed and fleshed out the larger story and started crafting the timeline of major events. I think the worst thing I could have done for a story and perspective that I care about this much is shove it into a plot that didn't have room for it at the very base level, regardless of how well the character or his story is written. Shoe-horned characters always stick out. I didn’t want to disservice Leo by having him be the character that did nothing or could be removed from the main plot without affecting it at all, y’know? That’s so much worse than just forgoing the indulgence, imo :((

ugh.... Leooooo 😭 I'm so sorry bb, I failed youuu 😥

#lovely anon #answered #hotmess #ok I am truly so sorry for going on and on like this #writing #ch design #ty for this question it was really nice to revisit this stuff 😃#and a nice reminder to not look back lol #scrapped

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cloveroctobers · 4 years ago

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ANNA-JULIA “AJ” (JONES) JARLETT

IG bio/info: @/annajj9x_ | 20.1k followers| Athlete | hey peeps can you stop asking me to throw it back cuz the answer will always be no! K thx take it easy 🏳️‍🌈🌻🏒🐶

21 years old

From bath, England

Hockey player as her profession for the past three years

Her position is defense

Their team name is “rowdy alphas”...yeah some team names just didn’t make sense or they’re cringe for no reason at all

Was raised by her mom,(her mom was a teen mom & had her at 17) maternal grandmother, and her paternal aunt (dad’s younger sister, who’s more like a big sister to her at 28)

They’ve made her into the person she is, literally

Her grandmother has a bed and breakfast that they all live in

the house is Victorian style—almost as if they walked right out of charmed! Instead of a big pink house, think yellow AND purple. It was hideous but homey and charming on the inside

growing up in a house with multiple temporary strangers wasn’t odd to aj at all, in fact it felt like the norm. There was always someone around to socialize with so that was quite nice

Her father was a pro baseball player & passed away due to a automobile accident

she has his smile & freckles

aj was also involved in the accident at the age of 6 & miraculously survived with intense injuries

Has scars as a reminder

used to have night terrors because of the accident...it took awhile—years!!! for them to subside

they’re all vague memories now (but the pain is something she’ll always remember) but she preferred it that way

she’s named “Anna” after her mother’s old best friend/roommate and was supposed to be aj’s god mother but she went missing during their uni years

the name“Julia” came from her paternal grandmother who she gets her wide doe eyes from

her athleticism definitely came from her dad

Her mother luckily liked to document things so there’s a bunch of home videos of her dad in them & pictures/scrapbooks that her mom has for safe keeping

She’s more of a klutz, tiny, and wears huge prescription glasses

extremely close to the three most important ladies in her life, so she’s always been able to be open with them about anything!

when she first expressed her interest in liking both genders around 17-18 her paternal aunt was all smirks, “i knew Britney Spears was so your type, yeah?”

more like shakira but Brit was just as pretty

her mother was a “cry baby” so ofc she burst out into tears squeezing aj’s limbs and peppering her face with kisses. She didn’t view her child as anything different... as she shouldn’t & was glad that her daughter trusted them with this significant moment in her life and wanted to be as supportive as she could

got books, watched Ted talks and everything but knew she could come to the source even tho aj was still figuring it out herself

her grandma dipped her head at the new info sitting at the round kitchen table, “been there. had a few broads in my life after and during my marriage with your no good grandad. Thank goodness the bastard died before you even got to meet ‘em.” “Mum!”

what felt like the biggest weight on her chest was lifted. She knew they’d understand but a part of her had a little bit of doubt, she’s heard so many horror stories where those like her didn’t have the support she has and that made her extremely sad to think about

i see her as a person that has/had many friends in secondary. She’s always open to chat and her being on a few sports teams helped her out in her case

very competitive in anything that she does & will guarantee that she’ll beat you. (“ You wanna race to the car from here?”wins. “Who ever cleans the most dishes the fastest gets the last slice of pie.”) majority of the time she’s right but if she loses?? oh don’t let her lose to you, it’s a pity party for the rest of the time ur in her space. Such a sore loser omg

stays active, always working out + has a gym membership and makes sure she goes at least five times a week

she’s very strong, loves leg day & working on her core

she’s about 5’10

loves wearing “gf jeans” since they’re super comfy but doesn’t mind skinny Jeans with rips in the knees every now and then

trainers and chucks are her go-to sneakers

has no issue shopping in the men’s section ‘cause who’s gonna stop her? Nobody that’s who

owner of over a 100 graphic tees + vertical stripped shirts are also her favs, SWEATPANTS/joggers?! How many does she have? A lot. Snapbacks? Plenty. Will she wear them backwards? Obviously.

Physical touch is her love language. She’s comes from a family that has no issue showing their affection by touch. There is NO such thing as personal space and that still stands with aj when it comes to relationships, she sees no other way

It’s what she shows and what she wants in return, if you’re not touching her in some sort of way, then automatically she thinks there’s something wrong or that she did something

Is the jealous type. It has shown in relationships and ruined a relationship or two

Has cheated on a significant other out of pure jealousy & is not proud to admit that

Does have a wandering eye but feels now that she truly understands herself when it comes to relationships, she’ll never act on it again

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, I get libra tendencies from her so that’s what I’m sticking with. She likes to keep the peace (unless she’s jealous) , idealistic — always looking on the bright side of things, outgoing, romantic, and professional— especially when it comes to her team; her true leadership comes out, yet she can be indecisive, hates confrontation, self pitying — if things don’t go perfectly how she imagined/planned it to, the world is ending and everyone is out to get her, and can be unreliable—never on time

September libra to be exact

if she’s really in love/taken a interest in you then she gets nervous: blushing, sweaty palms, cracking her knuckles, tongue tied—the whole 9

she’s already defined as a puppy by her coach but when she’s in love? She’s a lovesick puppy!

her fav holiday is Valentine’s Day

thought she was going to be a pro skateboarder growing up but it took one bad fall where she thought she was paralyzed for her to choose something else

she likes her weed on occasion

Obsessed with all types of cheese except cottage, “can I put cheese on this?”

more of a jumpsuit kinda girl or dressy top with jeans & hoops on a night out

has a solid group of mates outside of the hockey team, they’ve all met and hung out a couple of times, as they should since aj feels they’re going to be stuck with her for awhile so why not?

They’re a riot when they all go out, let’s just say that there’s never a dull moment

fav color is periwinkle

enjoys ASMR, mostly in the mornings when she’s waking up. You know how people love podcasts? (Sorry seb & Nicky, she still wants to be on the show soon!) ASMR is her thing

loves tangerines, you can count on it that she’ll have one on her, “where did you pull that from?” “I’ll never share my master plan.” “You’re such a tit.”

Definitely prefers “fresh squeezed” orange juice & will make her own, she has the tools & the strength 😏

Very rare for her to get sick ;) & if she does she’s a complete baby about it

Will fight that she’s sick before she admits it, trying all sorts of horrid remedies & vitamins

loves summer & all things that come with it, the number one thing is leaving bath for however long she can for a new place to enjoy

when she arrived to love island, she was thrilled for the weather. Yes she was looking for love but most importantly a nice get away & that it was (depending on your route that is lol)

closest with seb, vieve, elladine, and tai but don’t tell the others that! (She doesn’t care if you tell Yasmin, honestly)

just because her & seb “dated” and it didn’t work out doesn’t mean they can’t be friends right? It was almost automatic for them to be platonic after it was determined there would be no romance between them, almost like sibs! like those celebs like to say—except this time these two won’t turn around and actually find romance

vieve came with seb so...but no shade aj did like vieve. She gave great advice (while seb sometimes didn’t say the right things unintentionally or what aj needed to hear) when needed, especially from a medical view and is very sweet

elladine was the one who had all the tea & ideas to match, she’s quite organized and always down for DIY’s and could suggest almost anything. If you needed someone to help you get things tidy or match/find your Aesthetic, she’s the friend you call to help

tai was the one she could be a “bro” with, sure elladine has her competive side (or controlling, depends on how you view it) but tai was the one you can run to for much needed “bro hugs”, partying, going to the pubs, playing sports with or against, checking out/flirting with babes, etc...

it was not long after the villa that aj had a revelation with her sexuality & fully owned and labeled herself as a lesbian

She was happy being in relationship with someone else or with herself, life was short and she was young so there wasn’t time to dwell and stress over things so what the hell?! Live your truth the best way you know how ya know?

probably smells like sweet citrus, almond flower, and sea salt

on chest days, she’s a sweets snacker. Loves gummy bears (also with vodka) , swedish fish, sour patch kids, etc...basically shit that sticks to ur teeth

put all her chips into hockey, while it was advised by her Counselors & mum not to do so, aj went about it anyway. She thought about the pros and cons but knew there was nothing else for her. So there were more pros than cons. She was meant to play sports, its what felt right in her soul

Made her feel connected to her father, when she’s on the field she feels that he is with her

scrunches up her nose when she’s frustrated or confused about something

Doesn’t always grasp concepts right away, she’s a soft dummy but most of us are and that’s okay! We’re all smart in our own ways

Feels like sunflowers are always around her especially if she sees them wherever she is. They must symbolize SOMETHING, therefore she loves them

spf queen. All about it, get with it or let the sunrays ruin ur skin that’s on u

loves a good filet mignon medium-well & is probably the only good thing she knows how to make alongside a salad, baked potatoes, & her oj

sucker for romantic-comedies...it’s basically her life duh!

If she has a dog, it’s a Dalmatian or Great Dane. She needs a companion that’ll keep up with her

loves kissing, it’s her favorite form of intimacy

Quarantine life included the push up challenge for her. Gaining a few pounds in muscle and fat, bothering seb via ft, viewing old letters she wrote to her dad, spending time with her fav ladies since they were now restricted from having guests in their home, and letting boredom consume her + she hated the whole lockdown that came with it, she hated being indoors for long periods of time but she knew that’s what partly needed to be done

Posts a lot of beach, park, outings with her friends & team, moments with her fav ladies, workout videos, and guests at the b&b with their permission and if only she befriends them along the way. She’s just as active on the socials as she is in rl but she’s not obsessed with it, she knows how to live in the now. She’s all about balance!

I also feel like she never keeps her phone charged and it’s always dying on her! She had a car charger but...that’s a jungle. She needs to invest in a portable charger stat

crushing on/finds attractive: Jared Padalecki, Keanu Reeves, Barrett Doss, Camilla Luddington, Sandra Bullock, Adrian Kempe, Harry Kirton, Anya Taylor-Joy, Haley Lu Richardson, Naomi Osaka, Ming & Aoki Lee Simmons

who does she listen to? Shakira lol!! Bea Miller, Dua Lipa, Daya, XYLØ, Elley Duhé, Stela Cole, Aloe Blacc, Maroon 5, Lewis capaldi, Charlie Puth, girl in red, Hayley kiyoko, king princess, dodie, & tessa violet

Anthem: Icona Pop — we got the world

#litg #litg3 #litg s3 #litg aj #litg mc #litg oc #litg seb #litg genevieve #litg elladine #litg tai #litg yasmin #litg headcanon #litg moodboard #I felt like the pressure was on for her so sorry if this sucked lol #litg headcanons

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the-worst-nintendo-player · 3 years ago

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Hello there, human or monster. The story you are about to read is a story completely made up by the writer. This story will talk about Undertale's different AUs, however, their story will be changed and the writer will explain his version of the AU in question.

The authors of the arts will be mentioned at the end of the story. In case an artist doesn't want their art to be in this post, they are kindly invited to DM me so the writer will imediately take it off the said story.

Undertale belongs to Toby Fox, please, support him by playing both of his games.

Now let's get started.

Disbelief

Chapter 1: the soulless choice

The sun was starting to rise as the first and weak rays of Dawn would start to Shine all over the country. It has been 3 years since the monsters finally came out of the Underground. They had problems, people couldn't really trust them at the beginning, but after some researches and wise words, in a year or so everything started to get better and better every day. The Monsters were free to go around the world, laws were created for their magic as this could be dangerous and everybody agreed.

Humans started to accept the monsters even more when the first 'halfies' started to be born. And there were quite many actually.

Everyone found a job or something to do in their new life. Or, well, almost everyone. Sans and Papyrus really didn't do much, especially the shorter skeleton. The taller one was always traveling with someone, looking for adventures and made many new friends. Sans, on the other hand, kept lazing around every single day, reading books of puns and jokes...however he had an hobby: watching the night sky. It was fascinating for him, but he didn't know why either.

Toriel began a teacher as she always wished to, Undyne became an officer to protect people and to fight some bad guys. Alphys imediately became a very famous scientist, and most of the questions about her job were always about the Core, and she always answered with a disappointing "I-I wasn't the one who b-built It". However, people still had many questions about everything about the Underground and its magic... and of course, she was imediately accepted by the weeb community. Mettaton quickly became an incredible famous star. You could see people going crazy for his songs and legs over a mile away.

Asgore insisted for some time in prison for his sins of killing those children. Everybody told him that what happened centuries ago, it wouldn't affect him now and it wouldn't be fair for him to be in prison so there would be no jail...however, he started to work in a place where he could help some people, like giving free food and stuff. But Asgore wouldn't stop there, he became a politician to represent monsters and humans alike, and the ex-king became the most trust worthy politician in a long time. Some rumors dare to say that he and a pretty human girl met eachother in the place where the king works to help the poor people...and they may or may not started to date.

Anyway the only one left is Frisk.

The child was the only soul that wasn't happy in this new world. They actually found it boring. That was not the first time they saw everything happen. They already completed the True Pacifist once ...and at the time, that True Reset button was too tempting...and so they pressed it and committed a Genocide of the monster kind. They met Chara and gave their Soul to them. Chara alway appeared in their dreams, reminding to Frisk that they weren't the one truly in control.

This True Pacifist ending had two more differences then the first one. The first difference was strictly bound to the second one. Well the first one was Sans.

The Skeleton remembered everything the kid did in the Genocide. In the first True Pacifist they were pretty much best friends...but in this True pacifist they only talked once

It was a beautiful night outside. Birds were sleeping, stars were shining. The skeleton met the middle of the forest, far from the town. What happened that night was the second big difference.

"Hey kiddo" the Skeleton would say, his eyes closed. Frisk was a couple of meters away from him, and unkowingly to the monster, the Human brought a Knife. Frisk kept staring at the Skeleton, his stupid smile still on his face. "Sorry for making ya come here in the middle of the night but I have some bad news for ya" and so the Skeleton would put one gloved hand out of his pockets and he slowly pointed that towards the child. Frisk imediately pulled out his knife, tied on his leg and prepared to fight. "The bad news is that..." he opened his left eye and that damned blue glowing eye appeared, enlightening a bit of a soft blue light the area around the Skeleton. "I'll change the game" as he said that the soul of the kid became blue, but a much darker one than the kid ever expierienced...and a much painful one. The kid started to scream in pure pain, if they weren't that far anyone would have come to help them. Their finger moved by itself, pointing at something and the true reset button appeared in front of them. The skeleton's smile looked like it just got bigger and he, for the first time, would use a second hand. As he pulled out his second hand he would snap his finger and Frisk could see a Gaster Blaster right sbove their head, pointing down towards them. The child kept feeling like their Soul was getting ripped off their body with brute force as well as it was about to sbreak in a milin pieces. The blaster shoot his ray. The attack missed...or maybe not. The pain stopped and the child fell on their butt on the ground. They could see the True Reset button broken in front of them. The left part was destroyed and the word 'True' disappeared. Now it was just a Reset button.

"In this way..." Sans appeared right in front of the soulless human, his eyes as dark as a night without stars "even if you Reset I'll remember everything"

Those were the last words the Skeleton have ever said to the human. It happened a week after the came out in the Surface.

The button became a normal Reset one, it didn't even give any warnings about deleting everyone's memories.

In Frisk's dreams, they could see it.

They could see that blue eye glowing in the dark as if it was the only light in the full darkness. They could feel the hate, the struggle abd something else that almost felt like its Determination.

The child was scared of the Skeleton now. As silly as it may sound, he never used both of his hands! It may mean that Sans may use two attacks at the same time...and also after all of that he was not sweating. That didn't tire him....to live that pain again...that was what frightened the kid.

Frisk was in their room, unable to sleep. He never stopped thinking about what happened 3 years before. Tonight he didn't want to fall asleep. He wanted to solve this problem. And then, a big smile appeared on his face. That smile almost looked like Chara's...however it was...wider, bigger and more...evil.

The reset button appeared in front of them

"If that's how you want to play then...I'll change the game too, Sans"

The World has been resetted

Thank you for reading this far, hope you enjoyed it.

The gif of Sans' eye belongs to Miss-Cute-Quel on Deviant art. Here is the link:

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witcherslittledove · 3 years ago

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All Tied Up

Joey Batey/Henry Cavill RPF - Also on AO3

Rating: E

Summary: All of the things Joey had expected from his first day back on set, he hadn't expected to spend the morning in a harness and chained up. And he really hadn't expected Henry to be staring at him like that. It was going to be a hard day.

CW: Light spoilers for Blood of Elves, bondage, references to torture (for Jaskier not Joey), exhibitionism, masturbation, hand jobs, frottage, multiple orgasms

Thanks to @jaskiertheflowertwink for being my beta!

__________

Joey tugged at the cuffs of Jaskier’s doublet, it felt strange to be back on set after so many months away, trapped in his flat with Madeleine. Luckily, Jaskier was an easy character to settle into, almost like a second skin. The bard was eager to come out and play, taking the edge off of Joey’s anxiety. With Jaskier, he almost forgot how much he fucking hated other people. Still, not even Jaskier could save him from first day nerves, and Lauren hadn’t started his shoot off easy. Joey was diving straight into a torture scene, and he would be spending the majority of the day hung up from the ceiling in ropes and shackles, waiting for darling Anya to come and save him. It wouldn’t be real of course, there would be harnesses and all sorts of wires to make sure he wasn’t injured, but it wouldn’t be comfortable. The harness was already bulking out his costume, and chafing the insides of his thighs.

And after the mess of the pandemic, Joey wasn’t sure how he felt about losing control and being trapped for the afternoon. It unnerved him. He wanted to be free, and thought of the shackles around his wrists just… nope.

“Hey?” Henry came up from behind him, a hand squeezing his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Yeah. I’m fine,” Joey mumbled, staring up at the set. “First day back and all. It’s like being back at school.”

“You’ll be fine, Joey. You’re an incredible actor and I couldn’t ask for a better bard,” Henry reassured him, his voice low and gravelly in Joey’s ear. It was unreasonably hot. Honestly, Joey knew that Henry was fucking Superman but did he really have to be so godlike, and on top of that he was a complete dork.

Perhaps Joey could invite him to a D&D game once they were done shooting season two. Would that be too weird? It was probably too weird. They were just colleagues. Christ, Joey hadn’t even seen Henry since they’d finished promoting the show the year before. He really needed to get a grip, and ignore Jaskier’s voice in the back of his head. They were not best friends, and Henry would not want to play a shitty Dungeons and Dragons game with him.

Okay. Not shitty. His games were pretty fucking brilliant, but Henry would be too busy with his PC games, and his War Hammer and whatever cooler nerd stuff that he got up to in between his work outs and eating far too many chicken breasts and smoothies.

Jesus Christ, he missed Madeleine.

He didn’t say any of that aloud, no, that was for the safety of his own thoughts, racing at a million miles per hour. Instead, he channeled Jaskier and laughed, hiding his anxiety behind the more confident mask that had fooled millions of people into loving him. “Now, now, witcher,” he teased. “We both know you don’t mean that, what was it you said? If life could give me one blessing.”

“Oh fuck that, we’ve both read the books,” Henry groused, rolling his eyes.

His very, very blue eyes. He was in full make-up except for the yellow contacts and it was just weird to see Henry’s eyes looking back at him from Geralt’s face. It was confusing. Were they Henry and Joey right now? Or Geralt and Jaskier?

Perhaps a weird blend of the two.

And it was only the first fucking day.

Joey chuckled, “Yeah, talking of which, why are you here, Henry? I don’t recall Geralt being Jaskier’s Prince Charming in this scene.”

Henry shrugged. “It’s your first day, I wanted to see how you are.”

Joey swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling dry, and he flicked his fringe from his eyes, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He wanted to run his hands through his hair but the poor hair and make-up team would have his balls in a vice if he tried. It was bad enough that he kept pulling at his costume, but luckily he seemed to have made fidgeting into a characteristic for Jaskier. He grinned, settling back into the character more than ever. “So, you came to see me all tied up?”

Henry, the bastard, winked. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Joey squeaked, feeling his cheeks heat up beneath the make-up. He tried to laugh it off but holy fucking cock balls… was Henry actually flirting with him? And about bondage of all things. Fuck. He was not going to survive the day, not if Henry was watching him.

No. It was going to be fine. He was an actor, a professional. He wasn’t going to get hard on set just because his unfairly attractive co-star was watching him. The harness was uncomfortable. He’d probably be in pain and there would be an entire crew watching him. There was absolutely no reason to get hard.

So… naturally… he got hard.

Getting into the rigging was awkward and possibly the least sexy thing he had ever done in his entire life, which was really saying something. The shackles around his wrist didn’t hurt at first but his arms became tired quickly. He opted to stay in the rigging as much as he could between takes though. It was better for continuity and, well, if he was being truly honest with himself, he was enjoying the way Henry looked at him. It was intense, not dissimilar to how Geralt looked at Yennefer whenever she entered the room, but this time that burning desire wasn’t directed at Anya, it was directed at him… and Henry wasn’t acting.

It was all incredibly distracting, but having Henry there made him completely forget about his previous anxiety of being tied up for the morning. Something about the other actor’s presence was grounding and Joey trusted Henry not to let him get hurt, more than he trusted the crew, which was completely stupid and probably the result from some teenage crush. He was lucky that he only flubbed his lines a couple of times, and by the time Yennefer flew into the room, he was aching and desperate to return to his trailer.

He’d never been so grateful for Jaskier’s baggy clothes.

“Ah, umm, Lauren?” he stammered, rubbing his wrists. They were sore, and he really needed to stretch out his arms, maybe have a nap too. Fuck, he was really out of shape. Lockdown had really been a curse. “Can we take a breather?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck and giving the showrunner a sheepish smile. “I umm.. I need a break.”

“Oh yeah, sure. You’ve done brilliant work today, Joey. Let’s take a half hour everyone!”

Joey all but ran back to his trailer, shuffling awkwardly as he tried to hide his erection as best he could. Occasionally he stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders back so that if anyone saw him then they would think he just needed to recover from the physical exertion of being strung up like a puppet for most of the morning. He was sure that he looked like a state, his doublet was torn and bloody and his shirt barely covering his torso. The makeup team had had far too much fun spraying him with fake blood and dirt. He hadn’t been allowed to shave for a couple of days and heavy film makeup was caked on his face, making him seem bloodied and bruised. His lips itched from where they had been made to look split…

And everyone was staring at him.

Fuck.

He supposed he was usually the one that wasn’t covered in shit. The worst he’d had was the djinn wound from season one, but normally he was all bright doublets and smiles. Sometimes a little bit mucky, but nothing like this.

And Jesus Christ, he really needed a wank.

Why on god’s earth had Henry been staring at him like that? Did the bastard know how it affected him? He probably knew. Fuck, cocking shit balls! He was in trouble. Joey was still trying to break into the industry, if fucking Superman lodged a sexual harassment complaint against him then he was done for. He’d never work again…

But then again, Henry hadn’t been looking at him like he was angry. No, he’d been looking at him like he wanted to eat Joey alive, get down on his knees and get his mouth around Joey’s cock whilst he’d still been suspended in the rigging, the shackles caught around his wrists, unable to move…

“Fucking cock!” Joey slammed through the door to his trailer, fiddling with the fastenings of Jaskier’s trousers as soon as he was inside. His cock was already leaking in his boxers, throbbing and desperate for relief. He bit back a moan as he thumbed the slit, collecting the precum on his fingers and sliding it down the length of his cock. Waves of pleasure washed over him, and he closed his eyes, picturing Henry’s blue eyes, dark and wanting, his pretty pink lips stretched around Joey’s cock.

He barely managed to stumble to the bed, his legs shaking, head already spinning. It wasn’t going to take him long, he’d been far too keyed up all morning, and with Henry at the forefront of his mind, he was tumbling towards his orgasm faster than he would have liked. Joey moaned, biting his lip as he stroked his cock, the memories of the day fuelling his fantasies. It felt so fucking good and soon he felt a familiar tug at his core.

“Joey, are you alright?”

“Shit!” Joey gasped as he came all over his hand, but the pleasure seeped from his body, leaving him feeling hollow and dissatisfied, “For fuck’s sake, Henry! Fucking knock!”

Henry was staring back at him, blue eyes, silver hair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and looking like a fucking god. The bastard smirked and crossed his arms in front of his chest, raising an eyebrow. Joey had a sinking feeling in his chest.

“You- you did knock?”

Henry chuckled, his low gravelly laugh that sent shivers down Joey’s spine. There was a reason he spent much of their time on set trying to make Henry laugh. It was a gorgeous and beautiful sound, and Joey was completely addicted. He would quite happily spend the rest of his life trying to make Henry laugh… although that made him sound a lot more infatuated than he actually was, right?

They were just friends.

And Henry was a very attractive friend, friend? Co-star? Fuck!

“I am so sorry, Henry,” Joey whined, pulling a pillow in front of his face to try and hide his embarrassment but Henry wasn’t having any of it. He sat down next to Joey on the bed, gently pulling the pillow from his hands.

“Don’t apologise,” he said hoarsely, “I shouldn’t have walked in. I heard you moaning. It wasn’t exactly a hard jump to make… pun intended.”

Despite himself, Joey snorted and whacked Henry on the arm with his clean hand. “You arse!”

“What?”

“I’m actually dying of embarrassment and you’re making dick jokes!”

Henry smirked. “Sorry, I thought you’d be up to it.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh come now, Joey.. it’s just a joke.”

Joey whined. “I hate you.”

And then Henry was suddenly in his space, so close that he could feel the warm tingle of the other actor’s breath on his cheeks. Lips brushed against his ear, and despite already cumming, he felt heat prickle over his skin and he mouth was dry. “I don’t think you do,” Henry whispered, his voice dropping to a low base, not dissimilar to the accent he used for Geralt.

Joey took a shaky breath, very aware that his cock was still on display, covered in his spend, already twitching, trying to get hard again. “What- What are you doing, Henry?”

“Tell me to stop, Joey, I’ll leave and we never have to talk about it,” Henry breathed, pressing a kiss to Joey’s neck, nosing along his jaw.

“I-I… no. Don’t stop…”

“Seeing you today, chained up, Christ, Joey. It was so fucking hot, and then you were hard. I bet you could hardly resist cumming in your pants like a fucking teenager, and with everyone watching you,” Henry growled in his ear, the actors fingers now stroking along Joey’s thighs, higher, creeping closer to his slowly hardening cock. Joey whined, pressing his head into Henry’s shoulder, “but I think you like that, don’t you Joey?”

His cheeks flushed red, burning hot right up to his ears. “Fuck off.”

“Or was it just me watching you?”

“Hnnng.”

“Can I touch you?” Henry asked, his voice sounding almost as wrecked as Joey felt, “We don’t have long but, god, I’ve been wanting to touch you since you walked into the reading room that first day all those years ago.”

“Wh-what?”

“You seemed so shy, then you started reading and you just melted into Jaskier’s character. It was fucking amazing. You’re amazing.”

Joey whimpered. “Henry, please.”

And then Henry’s hand finally wrapped around his cock. The effect was instantaneous. Joey keened, bucking into Henry’s hand as his second orgasm began to build, his poor cock already sensitive but he was craving more, he wanted to feel that overwhelming pleasure that had been so cruelly stolen from him. Henry covered Joey’s hand with his own, gathering a mess of sticky white fluid and then continued to stroke down the length of Joey’s cock.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Hmm.. uh huh.. Yup,” Joey stammered, lost to his pleasure, his head feeling hazy, almost floaty, but he didn’t need anymore words as Henry’s lips crashed against his. Moans and grunts and gasps were muffled by the kiss, and Henry shifted on the bed so he was sitting over Joey, one of Joey’s legs pressed against his clothed cock.

If Joey had any more sense left in him, he might have offered to get Henry off at the same time, but he was too far gone, babbling nonsense in between kisses, curses, moans, wordless cries. Henry seemed more than happy to thrust against his leg, grunting as he moved to suck kisses onto Joey’s neck.

“Henry, god! Oh fuck!” Joey keened, his back arching off the bed. “I-I… fuck!”

His eyes squeezed shut as he came, sparks flying across his vision and his head rolled back onto the pillow. His energy seemed to drain as the waves of pleasure took over his body, Henry’s hand stroking him through his orgasm, still rutting against his leg until he came with a strangled moan. Henry collapsed on top of Joey, breathing heavily, silver strands of hair getting in Joey’s mouth and eyes.

“Urgh, get off me,” he groaned. “Heavy and you have so much fucking hair!”

“Blame Sapkowski,” Henry grumbled but rolled over, lying next to him on the bed.

They both stared up at the ceiling, panting as they tried to catch their breaths. It should have felt weird, fucking his apparently not straight co-star in the middle of takes… but, well, it sort of just felt right?

Joey laughed, turning to face Henry. “Make-up are gonna kill us.”

“Costume too,” the other actor groaned.

“And Lauren if we don’t get back…”

“Yeah.”

Their eyes met and it was no use. They both reached for each other, their lips meeting once more in a feverish kiss. It wouldn’t hurt if they were a little late… right?

#joey batey/henry cavill #joey/henry #the witcher rpf #rpf

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an-intronerd · 5 years ago

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thoughts on jaskier (+ geraskier) post episode 6: rare species

this was honestly supposed to be a teeny little rant but like, my hands grew minds of their own.

...

ok, so like, i recently binged the witcher (and i’m one of those people who has not yet read the books and never played the games, so going in, i had no idea who these characters were or what their dynamics in the other medias were like or anything) and next thing you know, i’m drowining in the geraskier fandom.

as one does, i’ve seen a lot of geraskier content, including fics and the like, and one idea that’s always there is that jaskier is this heartbroken, sullen, pining thing after the Big Fight. like, 98% of what i’ve seen or read has sad!jaskier. and like, the general plot is always like

jaskier is sad that geralt yelled mean things at him.

jaskier sings heartbroken love songs.

jaskier runs into geralt/geralt finds jaskier/somehow these two meet again.

geralt is a dick/geralt feels bad but is emotionally constipated so he doesn’t know how to use words to apologize/geralt saves jaskier’s life.

geralt and jaskier make up because jaskier knows how to read his witcher’s emotions and forgives him. optional: they bang.

the end.

and its like, people aren’t perfect?? i think that’s a little unrealistic. and yes, fanfiction can be like that sometimes, because it’s what we want to happen. but like, imagine this:

jaskier going through the 5 stages.

jaskier goes down the mountain, leaving geralt behind. what else can he possibly do?

jaskier spends a few nights wasted and crying because hey, guess what, the love of his life for the better part of two decades is a gaint wart-covered dick. he’s sad about it, sue him.

jaskier decides fuck this, his witcher is a piece of shit and though he is by no means the best person on the planet, he is at least good enough to deserve better than what geralt gave him. or well, was incapable of giving him.

jaskier decides he will move on, and it’ll start with him getting out of this mountainside village and heading to one of the first places where he truly found himself, oxenfurt. afterall, music has been and will always be the one constant and greatest pleasure in his life.

it takes time, but jaskier perseveres. he gets over his denial pretty quickly. he will not believe geralt didn’t care for him at all. he knows that’s an insult to both of them. geralt cared in his own way. thats the truth. unfortunately, the other, much harsher truth is that it wasn’t enough. so, no geralt won’t be coming for him, and jaskier won't be waiting around.

anger is a bit harder to get over. once it truly sets in, it’s all jaskier can do not to hunt down that fucking white wolf and tear him a new one. jaskier is a person, he is a human with feelings, and that damned witcher had no right to treat him like the scum at the bottom of his shoe. if it wasn’t for jasker, geralt would still be run out of every other town he came across, stoned and bloody. he’d probably have died in a puddle of his own blood fifty times over by now, considering all the times jaskier had to patch him up. that ungrateful prick. except, once he’s exhausted three supllies of parchment and written enough songs about the bitcher, (yes not his most creative insult but he’s too petty to care!) he knows none of that is remotely true. and he wants closure.

and that’s when bargaining hits him full force. all of a sudden, he just needs to see geralt one more time. once more great adventure and a song to go with it, one more meal shared, one more conversation, to see if geralt really ever cared. he needs to ask him, and have geralt verbally confirm or deny his doubts. he needs this, just once. one more time, he needs to see his witcher, and it’ll be enough. one more time. just once. he almost fails himself, on one lonely night. he knows he can’t, he doesn’t even know where he’d start looking but he’s drunk beyond the point where common sense dictates his actions, and he’s packed half his belongings... and he’s getting ready... to track down the white... wolf... he wakes up with a bitch of a hangover the next day, but he didn’t go after geralt. he knows deep down once will never be enough.

anger was tough, but depression was worse. it came for him like a siren in all her glory, drawing him in and in and in until he’s drowing and he didn’t even realise when that happened and then it’s too much, it’s too painful... he isn’t really surprised. he thrives on emotion, the good and the bad, it’s how he writes such brilliant ballads, he admits he hadn’t really delved into his own feelings about geralt yet. he hadn’t dealt with all the heartbreak follwing the mountain, and maybe he should have done so earlier, but he doesn’t think it matters. his heart wasn’t going to hurt any less months earlier when the wounds were still fresh. and though they may have closed up over time, the phantom pain is always with him. there are days where all he can do is curl up under his blankets and sob. some days he goes without eating a single morsel, finds himself lightheaded from dehydration, not leaving his bed for anything more than to relieve himself. some days, he flips through old songbooks, filled with twenty-odd years of adventure, both the fun and the dangerous kind, and laughter and frustration, companionship and solidarity... what was it he used to say? death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak. words of a lifetime past. some days, he compartmentalizes and sets all that aside in a little box in his mind and goes about his day as if he isn’t weighed down by the constant weight of his loss. it’s almost too much, but he’ll manage, he tells himself. he doesn’t let himself think of what he would do if he can’t.

it’s a cloudless day outside, and he’s in the market for new writing materials, and he’s going over next week’s lesson plan in his head, when he’s hit with the sudden realization that he hasn’t thought about geralt in a while. he’s thinking of him now, sure, but that doesn’t count because he’s thinking of how he’s not thinking of him, it’s a totally different thing, and oh- it doesn’t ache as much as it used to. he feels lighter than he has in a while, and he doesn’t know how that happened, or when, but he’s... okay.

that’s the thing about healing, it happens whether you realise it or not, you just have to give ypurself a chance. it’s pontless to hold on to the negative feelings because you’re trying to hold on to something or someone that isn’t there anymore or maybe never really was. he didn’t know when it happened, but. the bitterness that accompanied the memories of geralt’s last words is no longer there. neither is the anger. there’s a dull sadness, but mostly it’s resignation and a sort of comfortable if lonely acceptance that geralt is gone. but there’s also a bittersweet understanding that jaskier will always love him. the history they shared isn’t erased because of a few angry words. jaskier will have, if nothing else, a lifetime full of moments and memories. if he sees geralt again, it will no longer be with a vision clouded in pain or anger or sadness, but rather a deep-seated love and forgiveness. he will let geralt decide now what they will be to each other. but he will not accept anything less than what he is worth. he will not be geralt’s punching bag. if geralt wants to have a relationship with him again, it will be one of equals, the bard and the witcher. if he wants to go their seperate ways, well, jaskier will live content like that too.

he’s moved on.

sometimes, moving on doesn’t mean finding someone else. sometimes, it means mending your own heart, piece by broken piece, and then tucking it away safely inside, giving it a chance to heal. it’s about making that very difficult choice to let go of the bad that you’re holding on to, because it’s a way of holding on to the person you lost. it’s about finding yourself again, and who you were before the pain and heartbreak, and, figuring out who you want to be now. i need more of that, because that’s real. that’s how i imigine jaskier would feel. he’s not perfect, and he has his ups and downs as all of us do, and he is angry at geralt and sad and broken but also he’ll pick himself up, because he was someone before geralt, too, and he’ll still be someone after geralt, not just the witcher’s bard. he doesn’t know who that is yet, but he’ll figure it out.

and because i’m at my core a geraskier + happy endings hoe:

geralt realises an important thing on that mountaintop. he has been running from destiny and anything real all his life. he needs to get his head out of his ass, and find ciri. clearly, he was destined to lose yen, and that’s happened, no matter how hard he tried to make it different. she’s destined to be his and he accepts that now, but everything else is up to him.

he finds ciri, and then, he’s a father. he vows to be a better parent than the one he had.

he finds yen, and they learn to be enough for each other without turning it into something more than a vague frienship. somewhere between a truce and a partnership. for ciri, they agree.

he returns to kaer morhen, to his family with his daughter and his yennefer in tow.

he realises that he has everything he could ever want, and more than any witcher ever gets, but there’s still something missing.

then he realises it’s his bard, the one person who wasn’t unwillingly tied to him because of some wish or destiny, someone who chose him every single time, and who he misses with such a fierce ache.

then he remebers how badly he fucked that up, and then yen tells him he’s a wart-covered, emotionally constipated dick, and dumb too, but hey thank god you finally got your head out of your ass long enough to realise that you miss your bard and you’re sorry for what you did and you love him, and geralt just goes what? yen, love? oh- okay so that’s what the constant turning of his stomach and insomnia is.

then he sets out to find his bard, and ciri asks if she’ll finally get to hear all those famous songs about geralt from the source, and he says he hopes so.

it doesn’t take him long to find his bard, now a professor at oxenfurt academy, and geralt thinks that makes perfect sense because where else would jaskier have gone but to one of the few bright bits of his youth?

he gets to oxenfurt and it’s a cloudless day, and there’s people millig about and he thinks he’ll head to an inn and give roach a well-deserved rest, and then his heart stops. because there is jaskier, exchanging coin for parchment, and he looks just as he did a year and a half ago, except less disappointed and more happy and his heart hasn’t beaten this fast since he was a child left on vesemir’s doorstep. he thinks of all the nights he’s been unable to sleep because he had gotten so used to the bard’s humming and how it had been the most soothing wordless lullaby. he thinks of his last words, and he feels his breath leave him, because jaskier had taken it to heart, and left him. he’d given geralt his one blessing, and geralt thinks that those words are something he will regret for as long as he is living. he gives himself a moment to wonder if perhaps he should leave jaskier to the life he’s created for himself, be unselfish for once and let jaskier remain happy and safe and free.

he should leave, though he knows that jaskier deserves so much more from him, an apology to start, and then a real friendsip, one tat goes both ways, and wow, geralt really is a wart-covered dick because he had treated jaskier so unfairly and he doesn’t undertsand why jaskier kept coming back to him, again and again. destiny hadn’t entwined their paths. jaskier chose to entangle them anyways. and he deserves so much more than geralt of rivia, and he should let jaskier have that, he should...

but he couldn’t walk away now, not when jaskier, his bard, his life-long friend, is standing right there, and jaskier turns, collecting his items and geralt stops breathing because jaskier looks over, and geralt watched the recognition flit over the bard’s face as he sees roach and then up, up, up, his eyes trace geralt’s form until.

their eyes meet, and jaskier smiles.

tl;dr: i just want more realistic portrayls of jaskier’s emotions after the Big Fight in episode 6, and i want to see jaskier go through all the feelings, and more depth to him that just some pining, heartbroken lump of a person. he’s more nuanced than that, i think.

p.s: a big part of this ended up being based on my own experineces with love and friendship, pain and hertbreak, and the process of moving forward despite it all. idk how much of that comes through, and i hadn’t really planned for this post to go in the direction that it did, but i like how it turned out. i’m still trying to figure out that tricky little thing about making the choice to let go, and writing this helped?

p.p.s: this ended up way, way, wayyyyy longer than i intended, oops? why do i do this lol

p.p.p.s: if fics like this actually exist, please feel free to tag me in them or send me links, i would adore you forever!

#jaskier #geralt #geraskier #oh also #personal #lol why am i like this #the witcher #works and writings and other such musings

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theinvisibledreamergirl · 4 years ago

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Chap. 1: “The Beginning of Everything”

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3 years ago: 14th of September 2017

“Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday to my gem!

Happy birthday to you!”

His soft and playful voice made her giggle when he did an impression of a birthday wish because she knew that he hated to say it out loud.

“Thank you Mr. Standall.” She kissed his lips slowly not letting a yawn to break this blissful moment. “And that was a very good impression on how boyfriends want to make surprises to their girls.” She giggled while tracing with her right palm his grown beard that made her weak whenever it scratched.

“And I’m glad that made you smile.” He gave her a peck on her forehead while smiling aback.

“You always make me happy like no one else.”She said it in full acknowledgment and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving that sympathetic look that Alex knew too well. Whenever those words fell from her lips, he knew that she would get teary so he tried to lighten up the mood.

“Whoa Miss Craig, we haven’t still arrived to the part of being emotional.” He cupped her cheeks in full adoration. “And I haven’t brought your breakfast here yet so…” He got up from their bed while she was admiring at his sculpted body only in his underwear and was catching her lower lip thinking how handsome he was. He wore his shorts while doing another mimic of her while biting her lip knowing she had a soft spot. “Oh Al you’re so fucking handsome ma-”

Before he would finish the sentence, was met with a pillow on his face and a stern voice. “Get my breakfast here ‘cause I don’t want to die hungry.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.” He chuckled before bowed down while she was laughing at his poor attempt to be look like a 18th century gentleman but she didn’t care that much. Because her heart was so full and couldn’t be more thankful that he was by her side.

Present day: 14th of September 2020

She woke up from the irritating alarm of her iPhone while groaning loudly. She felt her body sweating on her sheets and knew that the dreams were still appearing in the middle of the night and were not giving her the peace she wanted. She had only been one week in Boston and was hating this city already. Crowded, disorganised, dirty and was nothing compared with Brighton or Washington. Even the great buildings that surrounded didn’t give her a slight awesomeness and rolled her eyes while some tourists were looking wonderfully and snapping selfies. It was 5 AM. She had a bad habit to wake up early in order to work out outside in the nature. Or better saying- somewhere far away from the flowers or trees that gave her allergies even though it was the fall season. But first she needed to change quickly her wet clothes before getting a cold. When she got up from her bed, was met with a wiggling tail and a huffing sound of her best friend- Jonah.

“Hey good morning buddy!” She kneeled down to him while he was licking her hands. “Yup we’re going outside but first mama needs a shower okay?” She kissed his head when he jumped on her bed waiting impatiently for his owner to finish.

She stripped off her clothes and didn’t want to give a spare glance to the scars in her forearms if she didn’t want to experience another breakdown. The warm temperature of the water cascading down her body was everything she needed and let out a content sigh. She mocked at her anti-grease shampoo for keeping her hair done only in two days.

“Bloody shampoos.”

She carefully rubbed the cores of her forearms with her sponge not letting to fall a single drop of blood while wincing. It was such annoying to wait for another year until they were regenerated completely and if not, she needed to undergo a plastic surgery in which she was worried about it.

This day was slightly different from what she’d been used to. It was her first day of work at a hospital after graduating with excellent grades from University College London and got an alumni award for her outstanding performance in saving five people’s lives (including her professor Dr. Sarah Bennett) doing solo operations without the practice and the leadership of an attending. And that’s why she chose Edenbrook Hospital but- with a bit lateness.

It was only three days ago that she got the acceptance e-mail from nonetheless the well known and the most respected diagnostician in the whole country Dr. Naveen Banerji. The reason was that she spent her summer holidays in Italy and wasn’t sure if she was ready to go back in USA almost four years after her parents died. But mostly she still was on search for the truth behind her grandmother’s unexpected death- Daisy Ahmad. A quest in which she hadn’t solved the mystery behind of it.

While putting on her Nike sneakers she took a brief look at the clock on the wall- 5:15 AM. She still had time until 7 AM to catch up for work so she whistled to the husky dog letting him know that they were ready to go- or not until she straightened up her back and raised her eyebrows while looking at the mirror.

“Mirror mirror on the wall, tell me... who’s the most badass woman here?” She chuckled at her poor joke. “Of course it’s me. Right Jonah?” He barked in approval tilting his head, showing his blue sky eyes to his owner’s. “That’s my boy.”

The hangout consisted of walking firstly, because Jonah always came the first into their priorities and sometimes she would call him the King Jonah I and if he would have children she’ll gladly call them Jonah II or JJ. Secondly, it was playing with him and doing some exercises to train him with what she had read in a recent book about huskies. Lastly, it was time for her to put her headphones on and listening to the great Arctic Monkeys band while running for an hour without breaks to the asphalt coastline. And Jonah was more than happy to follow his owner wherever she went.

Annoyed, after finishing her run, she totally forgot that she took a shower already but thankfully her hair was tied up in a ponytail so her tendrils weren’t at least wet. “We got sweaty again buddy huh?”

6:37 AM.

They finally made it back at her apartment and greeted the receptionist Billy for taking the morning shift. She kicked off her sneakers and went immediately to the bathroom to change again her sportswear and quickly finished her body shower. The breakfast consisted of baked bread, white cheese and fiches jam whereas for the husky dog were the raw meats and bones. While she was waiting for the slices of bread to be toasted, her eyes landed to his photograph placed in a black rectangular frame.

“Why Alex?” She whispered to herself and crossed her arms while tilting her head in one side. “Why are you still appearing in my dreams every night? What do you want to tell me?”

It became a monotonous thing for her to see the nightmares of the people who were gone now and the worse part was that they would always appear with unknown causes. Like her parents for example, died not because of a coincidental car accident- but a well-planned one- and after their case was solved, they didn’t appear anymore. She knew that her grandmother’s death was truly a devastating event for her and of course she needed to find the surgeon who took the responsibility to operate her. But what about Alex? She had no clue why this was happening but one thing was for sure... her PTSD wouldn’t stop if she didn’t find out the last parts to complete the puzzle.

After finishing her breakfast she wore her casual clothes despite her efforts in wearing a suit. She was so obsessed with them. Maybe if she becomes a resident... who knows what fate will bring for her? She shook her head in disbelief- she was going to work with Ethan Ramsey and was excited but stressed in the same time.

“My oh my... am I going to work now huh? What do you think buddy?”Jonah twirled around in excitement when his owner opened her arms to reveal the outfit. “You always have liked my style, haven’t you? Can you believe that I’m going to work with the attending who inspired me to be this doctor I am now? Nope, I can’t believe it too.” She chuckled wearily as her memories with Alex came back on her mind. How both of them were determined to be doctors and to be graduated in the same year, then going to their respective inspirational doctors who, for instance, both were in the same hospital- Dr. Ethan Ramsey and Dr. Simon Tennant.

“Y’know Jonah, I was thinking about how this Ethan Ramsey looks like because his face doesn’t appear anywhere. Like I’ve searched for him in any websites possible but no- he’s like an invisible man who has sealed every images of him. Even Simon doesn’t want to tell me and said that I would see him soon. What the hell? I mean can you imagine working with an old man and a grumpy one or who knows... maybe he’s a good one? He can’t be like those snarky and annoying attendees that have always appeared in the TV shows, right?” She twitched her lips in confusion and shrugged. “Whatever. Just wish me good luck.”

She grabbed his collar in the direction of the door but before that she glanced up to the photograph again. A hard lump was formed on her throat re-imagining the scene in which they could leave together but instead... she was going alone. A small and a sad smile tugged on her lips as if he was there too, smiling widely at her and wishing ‘good luck’ and giving a blow kiss while saying ‘I love you’.

Unfortunately the blue-eyed husky was cooing sadly after the owner left him to her neighbour Lola and her husband Mike and he really needed to fit into the new adjustment of lifestyle.

Klaw wanted so badly to drive her car to the hospital because she knew now all the streets of Boston but changed her mind in the last minute to go the metro line that wasn’t far away from her neighbourhood and it took at least 20 minutes. While she was seating in front of the window she opened her messages that popped up on her phone and she frowned in suspicion for who might’ve been. Then she chuckled softly. It was nonetheless than her friends.

Klaw scoffed.

Of course Imy would bring up those numbers as a reminder.

14.09.1995- her 25th birthday.

But she had already discussed with them to not wish her and to not make any presents despite Imy’s insistence to try to forget what happened two years ago that had wrapped their minds for a long time. But there wasn’t enough for forgetting and she still wasn’t ready to move on to another point of her life. She was afraid that if she believed in love again- she would lose it. Just like with Clay and Alex she didn’t want to experience another heartbreak or another trauma.

The great building of Edenbrook Hospital in the heart of Boston Massachusetts appeared in front of her now, where her life wouldn’t be the same again. She felt her quickened heartbeats and her tightened chest by the view and still couldn’t believe she was now a doctor. She shook her head in disbelief again while chuckling.

Well well Dr. Craig, seems like the beginning of everything to you, isn’t it? Just don’t try to kill anyone today. Keep your punches off to yourself.

Everyone were hurrying up and looked they were all in a moment of a rush. She took long stride steps while ogling to the new settlement which later she would call it home. Klaw could hear the urgency of nurses while taking IV’s with themselves to the patients, two doctors wheeling their patients who seemed to have done a transplant operation before, the receptionists talking to the phones and writing the names of those who wanted to leave a meeting with their doctors. Even though this gave her a lightened moment to truly appreciate, she felt lost and didn’t know where to go so she tilted her head to the sides almost panicking.

Is this how all of the interns have been before?

“Are you new here?”

A guy in violet scrubs asked her gently behind her back so she turned around only to see him smile.

“Uhm, yeah I am.”

“That’s pretty good! Are you our new nurse from Delaware?”

She chuckled. “No, actually I’m a surgical intern from London.”

“Oh, sorry.” He said sheepishly. “I’ve been asking all the new female faces here and all of them turned to be interns because we were waiting for a new internal nurse but seems like she’s vanished.” They both shared a laugh. “By the way my name’s Danny Cardinal.”

They shook their hands while nodding. “And I’m Klaudia Craig but please call me Klaw instead ‘cause there’s a loooong story about that.”

“Klaudia Craig... just give me a second to check the list.” Danny run his index finger while murmuring her name until he flipped the other page and her name was the last. “Ha! I found you... Klaudia Helena Craig, the tick is in the box. If I’m right you’re the last doctor who has applied here?”

“Uhm, yeah.” She let out a nervous laugh and scratched the back of her neck. “I actually wasn’t sure about this place to apply but- here I am.”

“Well because of Dr. Delarosa’s absence for the moment I’ll do you a quick guide.”

Danny was such a nice guy and now the first friend Klaw made in this hospital. She could see his cheeks flushed sometimes when he made eye contact with her and later he admitted that this year strangely all the new interns were so attractive. With her back-bag in one shoulder she entered the closet room to change her clothes to green scrubs until she saw a woman in her underwear. Embarrassed that she may be interrupting her, made a quick motion of closing her eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sorry I’m truly sorry!” She waved her hand awkwardly and she thought that was such clueless move.

“It’s alright you can open your eyes.” Her accent let Klaw know that she could be somewhere from India. When she opened her eyes- damn it. Danny wasn’t lying that everyone were attractive. She was the greatest example of a hot woman. “And please don’t you know that this is a closet room or what?” She scoffed. “Are you shy?”

Klaw scoffed aback when her last words teased her. “No, but I don’t think I can invade someone’s privacy and that’s disrespectful y’know... maybe you were doing other things rather than changing clothes.”

“Alexa play “The Final Countdown” by Europe for Jackie Varma getting her butt roasted!” Klaw flinched when a half-naked guy barked in laughter. “I’m feeling sorry for you now Jackson.”

“Shut up Lahela!”

“So my prediction was right.” Klaw nodded slowly in acknowledgement thanks to her observation skills, she could see Jackie’s messed hair despite her efforts to put a proper bun whereas the guy named Lahela had a small glitter on the corner of his lips. And she couldn’t feel any prouder.

“You got a smart mouth sweetie don’t you?” Jackie challenged her by inching dangerously close, their faces mere inches apart. Klaw smirked knowingly and slowly lowered her head.

“I do and you should actually be afraid of me, darling.”

Jackie was caught off guard despite her efforts of staying neutral. This girl was so gorgeous and such a smart ass, she thought. She was wondering how her full lips would fit into hers and how her body would arch in the wall while doing to her the most nasty things. And when she got that look- god she thought- she looked even more sexy.

Stop it Jackie.

“I like this girl, she’s just my type.” Lahela added. “Can we please have a threesome?”

“Bryce!” Jackie shouted angrily. “That’s enough!”

So his name is Bryce.

Klaw felt her jaw tightening even though she knew that he was just messing with them. “Only in your dreams big boy.”

“Ouch you are hurting my feelings right now. Look, no one can resist my handsome face... and not even you pretty.”

“I’ll show you pretty when you’ll see yourself with your broken bones.” Klaw smiled wickedly.

“Who’s roasted now huh?”Jackie laughed while Bryce was left mouth gaped from this statement. He didn’t think that someone as beautiful as this girl could reject him in one click. She wouldn’t do that, right? Bryce Lahela had never been refused by any of the girls he encountered with- not even from boys who had tried to have an affair with him. This is was the first defeat he got slapped by and it looked like this first day was going to be a hell. But when he looked deeply in the dark and fiery brown eyes of that lady, he had hopes that she wasn’t a bad person. Maybe she was trying to shove him off or who knew... maybe it was a game plan and for that, he wanted to know more of her.

Be careful Bry. ‘Cause this girl is going to be harder than it looks like. What is she doing to me?

“Whilst I appreciate your words Varma I think we should let this girl present herself, right?”

“This time I agree with you.” Jackie was well aware of his changing of subject and in a brief moment she saw the hot guy going pale and silently thought that he had fallen for her. Yuck.

Klaw smiled. “Okay people I’m Dr. Klaudia Craig, a surgical intern with one condition- only if you call me Klaw.”

“Another scalpel jockey here?” Jackie let out her tongue in disgust. “Ewww.”

“Hell yeahhh.” Klaw rolled her eyes while Bryce was offering his hand to shake hers. “Dr. Bryce Lahela graduated at the top of the class 2020 from Harvard University and selected as the best face from all the nerds around the campus with one condition-” he kissed the back of her hand before winking “-be mine already.”

“As tempting as it may be Dr. Lahela I’m afraid I’m not the first one in your flirting list hm?”

Two can play that game, right? Bryce’s cheeks turned to a light pink as if he felt- embarrassed? Why did this girl make him feel like that? What was her real intention? One thing was for sure- she was different and mysterious. Before he could reply Jackie cut him off.

“Shit! Time is ticking! We must go immediately, the whole atrium is expecting us!”

“Who?” Klaw asked confused and with that expression made Jackie eyeing her incredulously.

“Do you live on earth or what? The doctors, our attendees, our bosses!” Klaw nodded slowly in acknowledgment since she was right. She lived in Moon. “Hurry up, we need to change!”

All of the interns were gathered as they were waiting for the attendees to come at any minute. Lots of unknown faces were about to work together in this place and lots of things were going to change forever their lives. Daniel Griffin appeared among them giving Klaw a small smile but also a relieved one. He still was worried with the yesterday’s incidence where she fought with some random street girls and almost she was caught by the police. He couldn’t ask her if she was okay because she wouldn’t tell him anyway so the only thing that caught his attention was that she was coming with other two strange guys. Not long after that his girlfriend Imy joined them and greeted with a warm smile that always crossed on her face which was why Dan fell in love with her. Again Jackie was disappointed that they were other scalpel jockeys and couldn’t wait to meet colleagues on her profile. The attendees were coming towards them with an assurance and a determination that Klaw felt a shiver on her spine. She spotted her brother (her guardian angel) Simon beside a woman who seemed to be a very important person in the hospital alongside with four other doctors whom Klaw tried to guess if one of them was Ethan Ramsey with the exception of the curly woman.

Or tried to guess- who was the surgeon she was looking after all these years?

“May I have your attention please?” The curly woman spoke up, trying her best to keep her calmness while everyone were speaking aloud until another grunting voice made them startled and turn their heads to them.

“Will you shut your fucking mouths and listen now?!”

Silence.

A genuine and a grateful smile came from the woman mouthing to the man her ‘thank you’ and he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Welcome to Edenbrook Hospital everyone! You have come a long way to be in this place and you have to always remind the Hippocrates Oath: ‘Do no harm’ which is going to be the first thing that comes to your minds. My name is Dr. Ines Delarosa and by my side is Dr. Zaid Mirani, your senior residents who will guide you in every step of the way.”

“Do not consider this as a favour because if you do, then you have to forget your big sacrifices to come here.”

When Zaid almost chewed them with his sentence, Ines tried to lighten up the mood. “But also we’re not the only doctors here- please welcome our surgeons Dr. Harper Emery, Dr. Simon Tennant and Dr. Edgar Allen!”

The speech was started by Harper who stood between the males giving her the authority that she deserved as she looked intensely to every intern.

“Thank you Dr. Delarosa. Again welcome to the most prestigious and the most competitive hospital in our country! I hope all of you have been prepared for this day and for more to come. I’m delighted to work as a neurosurgeon to help and to teach you how important is and what it means to be a surgeon. Mostly about our surgical interns- you will be tasked with a lot of cases from the easiest ones to the most complicated ones. And you have to remind yourselves that you must not neglect any patient because they are all equal and they need the same treatments. I think the doctors would agree-” her eyes flicked immediately to Simon’s, ignoring Edgar’s purposely. “- right?”

“Yes Dr. Emery especially after this looong speech everyone here is more motivated, right?” He mocked playfully while Harper was rolling her eyes.

You'll never change Simon.

“Hi! I’m Dr. Tennant as Dr. Delarosa previously mentioned and I’m a cardio thoracic surgeon, currently the chief of Cardiology Department. Which means that if you notice your heart quickening its heartbeats or if you notice that is breaking into two halves- feel free to swing by my office or in the O.R to fix it.” A laughter was heard among the interns who seemed to be more relaxed and many whispers said that he was going to be their God’s sent angel- which clearly he was. “Jokes aside- this year was the most difficult time to choose the ones you are here because of competitiveness and the strong knowledge you came from your universities, ranked at the top of your classes. What I want to say is- nothing is impossible. Everything can be achieved with work and passion for medicine if you feel it here.” He patted his chest lightly. “But if not-” he shook his head even though his smile didn’t disappear. “- then you weren’t ready for these days.”

A knowing look crossed Klaw’s face; she knew where his limits were when it came to being professional especially in medicine. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone who made unacceptable mistakes and everyone would see his worst side and wonder how this man could change so quickly- something that she was used to.

“Alright.” Harper was nodding and giving an eye to everyone and turned her gaze to the older man. “Do you want to add something Dr. Banerji?”

That’s when Ines realised that she had totally forgotten to mention Dr. Banerji’s name because of Zaid’s distraction.

So he’s Dr. Naveen Banerji- the person who accepted my application.

“Yes, thank you Harper. Well, hello everybody, for all of those who don’t know me yet- I’m Dr. Naveen Banerji the Chief of Medicine, but my real job is general surgeon which I’m very good at it rather than being a chief.” He chuckled and Klaw thought this man was truly like a father to all the interns. “I’m very happy that we have chosen the best students for our non-profit hospital and especially those who’ve already done a big difference during medical school.” Klaw didn’t notice it as Bryce whispered in her ear but Naveen gave her a briefing look before he continued what he was saying. “I hope everyone will get themselves accommodated, making new relationships uh-I meant strictly professional and friendly partnerships.” Everyone shared a laugh. “What I want to say is- if you want to be successful to your job you must at first be humans. If you want to understand the patients you must understand yourselves. And finally as Dr. Ramsey would say you should observe everyone.” Again it was heard a big laughter as he did an impression on him. “Anyways, you will have the chance to know him, now I must go back to work as you should do the same. Have a nice day doctors! We’re expecting the best from you.”

“Thank you Dr. Banerji!” When Naveen and Harper left another attending came in front of the other doctors- Dr. Edgar Allen.

“So, I think now that we have done our pleasantries, I’d like to call the surgical interns names to assign their cases whereas you internal medicine will be assigned under Dr. Delarosa’s and Dr. Mirani’s. Understood?”Everyone nodded and from the looks of it he was the harshest doctor they have encountered by far, leaving Zaid out of the black list.

“I despise this man so much.” Zaid grumbled under his breath enough for Ines to hear it.

“Don’t worry Zaid.” She assured him again with that infectious smile which made him less angry than he was. “He’s always like that. We can’t change someone’s personality hm?” He nodded in agreement.

Before calling the names Simon came closer to Edgar clearly not liking the way he was prodding.

“Shouldn’t you be less grumpy among them? It’s their first day and they don’t deserve this kind of treatment.”

“Hmph. Or what else is going to happen Dr. Tennant? I’m really curious about it ‘cause right now I’m shaking from your concern for such minions.”

Simon felt his narrowed eyes dagger in Edgar’s saying in a hushed tone. “Watch your language Dr. Allen and may I remind you where did your internship start huh?”

“Mass Kenmore.”

“Exactly. So if it wasn’t for Dr. Thorne’s insistence because you saved his life- your ass wouldn’t even reach in this position without him.” Edgar clenched his teeth in frustration knowing fully well that everything what Simon was saying was true. “Now you can continue doctor.”

With that Simon trailed off without sparing a glance to the worried look of interns noticing their little exchange not knowing what was said between them.

Klaw kept wondering where actually Dr. Ethan Ramsey was as he didn’t show up and was nowhere to be seen until Ines answered the same question raised by another intern who seemed to be just as curious as her.

“About Dr. Ramsey, we’re expecting him to come today from the Miami’s conference, so you don’t have to worry- you’ll meet him soon.” She assured the shy blonde guy who seemed to be more relieved now.

But still Klaw had gears on her mind about it if Dr. Ramsey would be present.

And how do we say it?

Some things happen in the most unexpected ways.

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Chapter 2: “First Impressions”

#open heart fan fiction #open heart choices #open heart fan fic #my mc #klaw craig #my writing #rookie writer

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blazehedgehog · 4 years ago

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Now that it's all been posted, any thoughts on the Metroid fan movie concept that was uploaded to SomeCallMeJohnny's channel?

I haven’t watched part 3 yet.

There’s a reason I haven’t watched part 3 yet, and I don’t want to sound overly rude or harsh. I do think a lot of talent went in to writing and recording, and the artwork is pretty nice.

But I’ve also talked about before about things like... so, aliens, right. I personally like the idea that Ridley is this 20 foot tall space monster. He doesn’t wear clothes, we never see him sit in a chair, he can’t fit through our doors. He screeches and roars and growls like an animal. But underneath all of that is an very intelligent being, one who can operate interstellar craft. When he roars, he’s speaking a language. He’s giving commands to subordinates. But he’s nothing like a human. He’s an alien, and I like my aliens to feel truly otherworldly.

Ridley in this fan movie concept speaks human english.

So, already, I feel like it was at a big disadvantage with me personally. The actor playing Ridley does a good job, but the moment I heard Ridley saying earth words I was hit by a wash of disappointment. And it continues to swim up stream because the whole movie is effectively trying to adapt the official Metroid Manga and even parts of Other M. It does put its own spin on things to try and make it more palatable, mind you, and parts of it I do genuinely enjoy.

Like, I appreciate it spells out in no certain terms that Samus hasn’t just lost one family, she’s lost two, and is in danger of possibly losing a third surrogate family, and that’s kind of messing her up emotionally. It’s about her origin story, and why she's such a loner. I also like how they establish Mother Brain.

But where the movie loses me is in how much it jumps around in time, especially in Act 2. I don’t necessarily know if it’s confusing per-say, but does feel really disjointed. Samus is a kid, then it’s seven years later, then it’s two years earlier, then it’s back to seven years later, then it’s one year earlier, etc. Back and forth, back and forth, all these little vignettes told semi-out of order. It’s messy and a lot of it doesn’t feel like Metroid, because it’s all about Samus as a kid, or in the military, or whatever, and not enough of her in the power suit doing Metroid stuff.

I feel like this is an easy trap to fall in to. You see this lore and you think, “I have to fit all of it in.” But lately I’ve been thinking a lot about, like... book adaptations, and things, right.

So let’s take Jurassic Park for example, because that’s one of the few things where I’ve both read the book and seen the movie. If you did a 1:1 adaptation of the novel, Jurassic Park would probably be a 5-10 hour movie. So you have to cut a lot of stuff out -- most stuff, I’d argue. And true enough, at two hours, the movie is a very different experience compared to the book. So how does that work?

If I was doing it, I would identify the core theme of the story, and then pick out two or three iconic scenes. Then, write a completely new story around that theme, sticking to a simplified version of the story’s general idea, while touching on those iconic scenes.

Let’s consider instead “Into the Spider-verse”. This is based on the comic book series of the same name, but those comics span over a dozen issues of multiple different Spider-man books. So they focused on the themes (dimensions are crossing and everyone is Spider-man) and wrote a new story around that.

So what are the themes of Metroid, then? Isolation, loneliness, and feeling powerless at first but gaining knowledge and strength over time.

So we open on Samus touching down on an unknown alien world. She’s already a bounty hunter, and she’s on this planet because she’s tracking a threat. This planet once housed a civilization, but now it’s nothing more than abandoned, destroyed ruins, and in the absence of that civilization, it’s being reclaimed by the bizarre alien life at home on this world.

The whole movie is about the mystery of why Samus is here. She has a connection to this place, and the threat she’s tracking.

We see her memories. I know I just railed against the fan concept for having lots of flashbacks, but to me, it was more about their frequency and length. The first third of that movie is effectively a long flashback, and even once it jumps to present day, it keeps jumping back to various other points in Samus’s life every few minutes. That’s what made it feel like a mess. It never gives you a chance to settle in to a “present day.”

Flashbacks can be an important storytelling tool, but I think establishing what’s current and then showing a few key memories is what works best. The movie is a mystery, and we’re peeling away layers over time. We’re with Samus, seeing what she sees as she looks over the planet. We see a man and a woman killed by something unseen as armored aliens approach her. Later, we see the Chozo and their warmth towards Samus. This is their planet, where they raised Samus, and taught her about their research in to the Metroids.

As she becomes enveloped in her memories of this place, we see what she’s tracking. It’s a giant space dragon. As far as the audience ever sees, it’s just a big scary monster. Samus is chasing an animal, like hunting a bear or a tiger. But every now and then, we get a hint of something more.

Samus also spends her time in the movie just dealing with alien life on this planet. Some of it is friendly, but others are very hostile. The space dragon is always the primary threat, but there are other creatures here that give Samus trouble. Maybe she befriends something, treats it like a pet, and through that we see maybe some aliens have intelligence and others do not. It also gives her someone to talk to. But again: the alien does not speak her language.

The last flashback, in the film’s final act, is the Chozo entrusting the power suit (the armor she saw as a child) to Samus as they are slain by the same space dragon she’s been hunting for the whole movie. It’s Ridley. It’s here we learn that Ridley is more than just a monster -- he’s intelligent. He commands space pirates to raze the planet and take the Chozo’s captive Metroid. This is a big reveal for the audience. Samus is sent away in the same ship we see land at the start of the movie, her ship. As the Chozo die, we see almost a flashback within a flashback, as we finally learn that the man and woman in the first flashback were her parents, and they were also slain by Ridley and his forces. It all ties together.

This anger fuels Samus in her final encounter with Ridley. He’s back on this planet because he missed something about the Chozo’s Metroid research. Despite only stealing one Metroid, Ridley somehow has multiple now, and he sics them on Samus. Wounded from their fight, a bleeding Samus corners Ridley as he tries to escape in his ship and uses a weapon she discovered earlier in the movie (a super missile pack) to damage his ship, destroy his Metroids, and seemingly kill him. She limps back to her ship and has automated medical systems attend to her wounds as she leaves.

The final stinger is Ridley still being alive, and his shadow falling upon the Chozo central computer, codenamed “Mother Brain.”

That’s what I’d do.

#questions #metroid #movie #fan movie concept #nintendo #ideas #writing #long posts #melcodriggs

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fugandhi · 4 years ago

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Why We Rise (A Meditation on Humanity)

by Adam Kenichi Wekarski

The time has come for me to write about Christopher Nolan’s Batman Trilogy (and why it is the most important cinematic franchise of our time). *Please purchase & view the franchise in it’s entirety prior to reading this independent essay. Spoilers are No Fun for Anyone. SUPPORT The STORYTELLERS*

Although it’s a story derived from a comic book, this is not a movie franchise to be taken lightly (or for granted for that matter). Christopher Nolan’s film, “Memento” was the first work he had accomplished that I had ever seen (back in the Blockbuster days - ahem, VHS RULES!) and it is still spinnin’ my mind after all this time. Christopher Nolan ALWAYS delivers some form of ground-breaking excellence in his work - his ‘Dark Knight’ Franchise is no exception.

When one thinks of Batman, it’s very easy to consider the various forms (literature, animation, cinema, video games, etc) of said character (God Bless You, Adam West! R.I.P., Good Sir!). SO many INCREDIBLE & [BEYOND] TALENTED folks have, not only performed as the character, but have helped in shaping this character’s Monumental & Positive Imprint on contemporary society (worldwide).

I still believe Christian Bale is one of the most under-appreciated performers of our time. I first saw him in the Dark Comedy, “American Psycho” (DUDE! Holy Smack-a-RONi! Totally Bonkers & Viciously frightening). I still can’t believe he did not receive an Academy Award nomination for that performance (for shame, HollyWould). As much as I love Tim Robbins (SHAWSHANK, BaBY!), Christian Bale is one of the greatest actors of all time (100% WITHOUT A DOUBT). He plays Bruce Wayne PERFECTLY (TOTALLY the BEST Bruce Wayne OF ALL TIME! DONE! NO ARGUMENT! END-ALL-BE-ALL..”..Been there, Done that - got the album, Bought the Tee-shirt..NEXT” (Ricky Gervais, The Office [UK]). CHRISTIAN BALE DESERVED AN ACADEMY AWARD FOR “The Dark Knight Rises” - I’M SAYING IT - HE DID SUCH A PERFECT PERFORMANCE in (Yeah ALL Caps) this entire franchise. I need to address that because so many folks seemed to be swept-up in their own distractions as viewers (Yeah we get it, he disguised his voice with a growl - get over it, ya’ll). He seems to be a good person (‘seems’ being the operative word) & I’ve read about his efforts in his life off-screen (You are a Good Man, Sir) when the cameras are not around. I have a belief that it’s good for people to appreciate those ‘moments-of-truth’ more often (just one person’s opinion, take it or leave it).

Speaking of ‘moments-of-truth’ - This story (spanning across three EPIC films) is the ultimate moment-of-truth for Sir Christopher Nolan (Why Not?; He actually is CBE apparently; Respect) and his AMAZING Production TEAM’s collective efforts. So many people put their well-being on the line to make these stories happen (some even, their lives, Rest in Peace) and I believe this franchise deserves ALL of the Success & Recognition & Praise (and honestly, Time) for the awe-inspiring efforts put forth (in regards to cinematic storytelling). This is a franchise for the fans (due to how well it honors the source material & simultaneously manages to elevate the art-form).

Bruce Wayne is one of the most important modern characters of our time. Not since the days of Jesus Christ, himself, has there even been someone who sparked a universal impact (sorry ‘Supes’ - You & Ol’ ‘Batsy’ are Tied in my book) upon average people worldwide. Granted - Bruce Wayne is NO Jesus (there can only be one), however, his life’s journey is a true Test of Faith, which is a universal lesson that I firmly believe Jesus Christ was attempting to spread in his message of good faith towards one another.

Bruce Wayne (played by Christian Bale & Gus Lewis, respectively), as it is now [mostly known], was born an heir to The Wayne Family, an age-old empire in modern society (Gotham City, U.S.A.). In Christopher Nolan’s particular take on this (now-classic) SuperHero story - Reality is the cinematic setting.

“Batman Begins” is Nolan’s homage to Richard Donner’s “Superman”, having been THE standard for comic book movies (since the late 1970’s if I’m not mistaken). Having obviously been a fan of Donner’s work (Gee, who isn’t?) - it’s an obvious source-of-influence for the first installment in Christopher Nolan’s Perfect Epic.

When I had first discovered the news that Christopher Nolan was Warner Bros. Studios’ choice for a brand new Batman reboot - I have to admit I was VERY optimistic. After having seen “Memento”, and his work with that incredible team - I was very, very optimistic that for ONCE the Batman universe was going to be actually depicted like it is in the comic books (at least the ‘80s Batman Comics - Hello Dark & Gritty Vibes). Considering the mental intensity of “Memento” (and how linear-storytelling-need-not-apply) - I was absolutely curious to see how well the story would finally be done on-screen (with all due respect to Tim Burton & Joel Schumacher & All previous efforts achieved in the known story-telling community). After all is said and done, this franchise is a ‘Grand Slam’.

Christopher Nolan’s version of Milton “Bill” Finger’s (Bob Kane took all of the credit for Bill’s work; for shame) story of Bruce Wayne/Batman is the most inspiring work I’ve seen achieved on the concept (and characters) to this day. With the initial tone set in the first film - we find a young Bruce Wayne as a child - simply playing in the Wayne family’s garden with his best (& childhood) friend (and one of the most important characters in the franchise): Rachel Dawes (played by Katie Holmes, Emma Lockhart, and Maggie Gyllenhaal, respectively). Bruce & Rachel establish the innocence of childhood (and of our main protagonist) with the playful phrase, “Finders Keepers” which is followed by young Bruce falling into an old dried-out well (which then traps him into a slight crevice, filled with Bats).

As we discover in this story, the symbol of Batman has a rather deeper meaning to Bruce Wayne than what had been initially expected (unless if you’re a fan of the comics). When the first film starts to take form, we find Bruce Wayne lost in the depths of ‘hell’ as an adult man. Having been an heir to a Family’s Kingdom (so-to-speak), Bruce Wayne had lost his Mother & Father; Martha & Thomas Wayne (SUCH Good People) at a tragically-early age, having their lives taken by a lost soul in the dark of night (a reality known, all-too-well, by our own collective experiences as a contemporary society).

Martha & Thomas Wayne establish the core values that help shape Bruce Wayne as an Individual. Their Leadership, their knowledge, their wisdom, their love (their faith). All of their finest attributes shine a light on how the community - the city of Gotham (and their actions as people) help shape said community. Without their Faith, Bruce Wayne’s immediate world probably wouldn’t have even been established for him (perhaps). It is that faith that is the driving force of this franchise, and the greatest tragedy of this film is, indeed, the blatant & cold-blooded murder of Martha & Thomas Wayne. Ya know, they were really good people in terms of their contributions to their household & community & their lives, and they truly cared about their impact on the world (in a greater sense).

With such care, they made important choices (that had an effect on everyone in Gotham, regardless of outlook). Choices that made a necessary difference in, not only their home, but in their overall world. Gotham may be fictional, but I will let the fantasy play and I will acknowledge the tremendous amount of detail put into these stories that went unnoticed in the initial ‘life’ of this franchise’s release. Having said that - Unless if memory serves inaccurate, this film received a lot of unwarranted criticism for the realistic depiction of modern violence (due to the UNGodly public shooting(s) that have been taking place in our country; I acknowledge the real-life tragedies, but also acknowledge the importance of artistic vision). I say unwarranted due to the fact that Christopher Nolan managed to hold up a mirror and we need to pay close attention (and look beyond the glamour & simulated violence), and this was accomplished well-before Todd Phillips’ incredible film “Joker” had been produced (which drew plenty of inspiration from Nolan’s signature style and Heath Ledger’s actual development of said character; Joker’s Journal).

At the core of this story is Faith.

Faith is what was instilled in Martha & Thomas Wayne (and their lessons with Bruce as a boy). Alfred Pennyworth (played Beautifully by Sir Michael Caine in a Nomination-worthy performance for Best Supporting Actor in my humble opinion) is the reinforcement to protect the Wayne Family’s Honor & Good Name. On the surface, Mr. Pennyworth is Bruce Wayne’s Butler, however, when he’s not maintaining the Wayne fortune, he is ‘the guiding light’ (no pun intended) in Bruce Wayne’s Journey (despite the efforts of various opposition). While Rutger Hauer (rest his soul; “BLIND FURY”!!! YES!) had set the tone for what was to come later in young Bruce Wayne’s life (at the funeral for Martha & Thomas Wayne) - it becomes abundantly clear that Bruce Wayne has quite the journey ahead of him in his life (with plenty of whom have pre-developed plans & agendas to seize Wayne Enterprises for their own gain).

Bruce Wayne, born of a Mother & Father, heir to “the throne” (as it were), and thriving billionaire, one day decides to leave it all behind. It’s a moment of internal crisis for our protagonist due to the severely traumatic act of witnessing the death of his own parents (while almost being murdered himself). I know a lot of people think Kal-El (aka ‘Superman’, aka ‘Clark Kent’) is the end-all be-all of Superheroes (myself included), however, after a retrospective look back at Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy it becomes abundantly clear just how much credit this franchise did NOT receive from the critics & the artistic community (Hi, Academy. I’m lookin’ at ya’ll). Despite the worldwide acclaim, I believe this franchise was well ahead of it’s time in terms of the most important aspect of the entire achievement - The Story.

This is a franchise fully-devoted to the story and that is a significant contributor to the success of this version of Batman. I grew up watching old reruns on TV of Adam West & Burt Ward going around and ‘CLEANING-SOME-CLOCKS’ as it were (POW! ZAM! KLAM! CHOWDAH!), and I always hold that version near-and-dear to my heart because I still think the early 1960’s version of Batman was really fun & really awesome & an absolute delight. Plain & simple. ..Granted - as time continued and the characterization of Bruce Wayne (and his alter-ego “Batman”; His Armor; His Protective Shield) had advanced & developed into a new ground (conceptually-speaking). The core values of who Bruce Wayne is, where he comes from, and Why he does [what he does] did not truly become profoundly-realized for me until I’d say when the Animated series (1990’s! DUDE still one of the best Animated Series I’ve ever seen; like ‘a fine wine of cartoons’). “The Mask of The Phantasm” is still one of the best Batman stories I’ve ever seen - Such an incredible origin story for Bruce Wayne - and definitely one of the best animated, full-length features I had ever seen as a kid (Not to discount Tim Burton’s gothic-induced-dream-like version of the knight’s tale).

With Christopher Nolan’s contribution to the overall storyline of Batman - we truly have a Masterpiece Trilogy before us (as audience members). Nolan’s take on Batman is truly like no other (even surpassing efforts that preceded the franchise) in that he actually provides a glimpse into what it would look like if the fantasy actually became a reality. Christopher Nolan achieves that goal (Ten-fold) with this trilogy.

In the first film - what we know about Batman becomes hyper-realized with the emphasis on Bruce Wayne��s life in modern-day America (Gotham City being the quintessential metropolitan All-American city). An America that has succumbed to an overall tone of darkness & hopelessness (with the reality of tangible corruption & streets of truly deadly conditions) which has reached a pinnacle-of-suffering for the good people of Gotham (and perhaps, rippled outward into the rest of the world).

Jim Gordon (played PERFECTLY by Gary Oldman, one of the finest performing actors ever to be on screen), a symbol of Gotham’s defeated Law Enforcement, patrols the streets of Gotham City each night. Jim Gordon is one of the key individuals that Bruce Wayne reaches out towards (in his pre-Knight regalia) in the first stages of ‘Batman Begins’. Jim Gordon was the person who wrapped the coat around (a young) Bruce Wayne’s shoulders after his parents had been needlessly-murdered right before his very eyes. Jim Gordon was the one who kneeled to Bruce’s level, acknowledged his loss, and gave him that moment of kindness & warmth & honest-to-God decency. He acknowledged Bruce’s sorrow & loss with grace. He gave him a moment of simple human decency & kindness for the sake of kindness itself.

Jim Gordon’s kind gesture is merely a moment in time, which made all the difference for a young kid who just needed someone to simply be there for him. A moment that showed Bruce Wayne that Goodness & Human Decency can & does still exist in the world despite a traumatically-life-changing tragedy. Jim Gordon’s simple, nearly effortless act, is a sign that people Do honor good faith (and people who truly deserve it) and the good Do get rewarded.

I really like the character Bruce Wayne. I think he’s a better character than most that I’ve ever seen, especially since he actually has character. It’s a shame that people can not see beyond the surface to find the deeper meaning of this story. Bruce Wayne’s [incredible] journey takes place all over the world. When we find him in ‘..Begins’, he is locked up in the ominous mountains of Bhutan. His home now a desolate wasteland of an existence due to his loss. His tragedy (despite Jim Gordon’s act of kindness) had lead him astray and brought him across the other part of the world (only to discover what it truly means to suffer in poverty & hunger & pain & strife & darkness without any means of comfort). As the story unfolds, it becomes clear that Bruce’s path is the ‘path-of-most-resistance.’ Rather than succumb to a frivolous, meaningless, and hollow existence - Bruce Wayne took the path rarely taken. He chose his own path, to earn his own personal truth, his own story to be lived & known (and eventually discovered by Gotham City).

When Bruce meets an unusual individual by the name of ‘Ducard’ (aka Ra’s al Ghul; aka Liam Neeson; Also played simultaneously by the honorable Ken Watanabe, respectively) in his own ‘personal hell’, Ducard feeds into Bruce’s fall from the path of grace (and his spiritual confusion). Ra’s al Ghul/Ducard is only interested in one thing: controlling Bruce Wayne. As Ra’s al Ghul is the quintessential ‘Handler’, or ‘Hypnotist’ of Bruce Wayne in the training period for Bruce Wayne’s spiritual journey - it becomes evident with each effort from Wayne that Ra’s al Ghul represents The Devil (aka ‘The Prince of Darkness’, ‘Satan’, ‘Lucifer’; The ‘Shadow Side’ of Saturn; See “Yikes!”; See “YOWZA”; See “Hide Yo Kids, Hide Yo Wife”; No Disrespect To The Coven; See Not My Lord; See God Protect Me).

From the moment we first-see Ra’s al Ghul - he is shrouded in darkness - lurking in the shadows within each unseen corner of the world - the proverbial serpent of the shadows (so-to-say). In a manner of speaking, Ra’s al Ghul is merely one of many faces throughout the story that showcase the forces of darkness in this particular cinematic legacy (from the depths of darkness, here to possess the living). Ra’s al Ghul attempts to indoctrinate Bruce Wayne (in Bad Faith) in the Bhutanese abyss; a wasteland for the damned (and where the death of hope thrives amidst the stone-prison-walls). Despite Ra’s al Ghul’s efforts - Bruce Wayne not only proves to be the most-prominent under-study of the cult (while being initiated into a secret society; a clandestine fraternity; a subversive order of assassins following an ancient practice (unknown & unseen by the blissful light of day).

Bruce Wayne’s prominence during his training cycle with ‘The League of Shadows’ (an appropriate title) shows us that he surpasses even Ra’s al Ghul’s expectations: showing how the student becomes the teacher (by upholding an authentic approach to having a Personal Moral Code & Justice & Ethical Values). Bruce Wayne is not only faster, stronger, and smarter than Ra’s al Ghul - Bruce Wayne is also wiser. Due to Wayne’s parents (and his friendships) he truly is ‘the shining example’ of true justice that Ra’s al Ghul has yet to achieve in life (due to his obsessive wrath).

Having destroyed the League of Shadows’ initiation grounds & temple of darkness - Bruce Wayne LITERALLY SAVES RA’S AL GHUL’S LIFE. ‘True Colors’ does not even begin to define such a moment for our protagonist (that’s a true sign of Mercy).

Despite Bruce Wayne saving Ra’s al Ghul’s life, afterwards the dude STILL tries to come back and kill Bruce AND Gotham City (Showing how The Devil has No Mercy for Anything, Anyone, or Anywhere and is just flat-out unwilling to acknowledge when something good actually does happen). Granted, at the end of “Batman Begins” we discover how Martha and Thomas Wayne were murdered as a direct result of Ra’s al Ghul & The League of Shadows (and their hatred for all things Gotham City & Western Civilization). It’s a diabolical reveal that the devil holds nothing sacred in the sanctity of human life. The devil will literally kill an angel after having been saved by said angel. In fact, Bruce Wayne’s own personal brush with death is (tragically) a common concern of not only Alfred, but Lucius Fox (played exquisitely by one Morgan Freeman), a former Board-Member & former colleague of Thomas Wayne (prior to his passing).

Bruce shows us that good people typically make a lot of good friends and have good people looking out for one’s best interest (no matter their walk of life). The most awe-inspiring truth of Bruce Wayne/Batman is that his ‘best interest’ is preserving & honoring the good faith of his community and the people in his life (including his ancestors, mind-you, as well as the herculean guidance of one Alfred Pennyworth). Without friends - life goes nowhere - that’s a universal truth. Bruce Wayne nearly died so many times in this trilogy and I don’t think people appreciate that aspect of these movies. This is an individual who literally put his life on the line to save the soul of the city he loves (wanting nothing other than a good, normal, & happy life). I know people only fixate on ‘the How’, but I think ‘the Why’ is the most important element of Bruce Wayne’s fictional example.

Bruce Wayne (as all of us) exists for a reason. His life (albeit fictional) does have an important purpose in the grand scheme of things (as one puts it).

Of course, this reason is emphasized (more & more) by his best friend, Rachel Dawes (among others). It’s a shame that Katie Holmes did not portray Rachel Dawes in both of the first two films, however, I found it to be very impressive [just] how smoothly Maggie Gyllenhaal performed as the character. It’s one of the rare instances in which a character is portrayed by two different performers who both managed to bring an equal amount of dignity & respect to said character. Katie Holmes & Maggie Gyllenhaal should both be applauded for their contributions & performance(s) as the grown-up portrayal of Rachel Dawes.

Rachel Dawes is the positive-female-influence in Bruce Wayne’s life (complimentary to that of Alfred Pennyworth’s positive-male-influence; or non-gender-specific-neutral-influence? Sure, why not) that is necessary to develop his respect & honor towards women (which is a necessary element of chivalry). Chivalry is not dead in America: The examples set before us can be found within our own real-life society (I shall go into that more later..).

More important than Rachel Dawes’ positive influence on Bruce Wayne is her genuine friendship (since their childhood). Rachel is not interested in taking advantage of Bruce or using him for her own personal gain. Rachel Dawes genuinely cares about Bruce Wayne and how well the quality of his life (as well as the life of the community) have grown. Rachel Dawes shows Bruce what is occurring in the streets of Gotham on a daily basis. Rachel is living, breathing, working, and seeing what has become of Gotham City - a limping giant of a once-prominent-city (Modern-Day America in a nutshell). Rachel Dawes reminds Bruce Wayne of the importance of Good People Taking Ownership of One’s Community. She reminds him that life is not only about one’s own personal pain, but alas, the collective pain of which a community must endure & resolve (as a said community) with good faith; “It’s not about who you are underneath, it’s what you do that defines you.”

In the second act of Nolan’s Cinematic Epic, “The Dark Knight” - Bruce Wayne encounters the tangible result of Newton’s Third Law: for every action there is an equal (or greater) reaction; hence ‘The Joker’ (played enormously by the late Heath Ledger; Rest in Peace).

The Joker is the response to Bruce Wayne’s actions in the first act, and in every way, he is Bruce Wayne’s exact opposite (albeit opposites, their life paths are balancing on the same proverbial axis of existence). Bruce Wayne is a reflection of light while The Joker is a product of darkness (Negative Energy, Pessimism, Hate, Evil, Unhappiness, Pain, Suffering, Misery, Torment, Violence, & Trauma). While Batman is the answer to corrupt forces in Gotham City - The Joker is the reaction to The Bat-Man.

The Joker is the continuation of opposing forces attempting to infiltrate Bruce Wayne’s life & community (as would a specter in the shadows, a spider in the darkest reaches of lunacy; a.k.a. the absence of faith, the inversion of angels; i.e. Demons, Demonic Entities, Dark Deities, etc). The Joker represents everything evil in society - everything sick, everything sad, everything hurt. To The Joker (and the fools before him) - society is an infestation, a plague, a result of toxicity & corruption (especially the light of which darkness cannot fathom). Batman is the antithesis to Joker’s Chaos. Batman is the collective honor & balance of civility & justice & good faith quantified into one symbolic rogue.

Heath Ledger’s performance of Joker was nothing short of awe-inspiring artistry & workmanship (WorkPERSONship?). His passing was a needless tragedy and although his performance garnered him numerous accolades - I wish he did not have to die in order to attain it (It should have been him accepting the award - it should have been him). Without a doubt, an equal to Joaquin Phoenix’s performance (if not Superior) - I still acknowledge Heath Ledger’s ground-breaking performance as a perfect triumph of Acting (although I think the character is absolutely distorted on all accounts; despite Joker’s persuasive wit).

Many people like to compare Joaquin Phoenix & Heath Ledger’s performance(s) as The Joker (folks compare everything in life), and I think both performances stand strongly on equal ground. Total Perfection. No doubt about it - and one kinda goes with the other if you were to align the vision side-by-side. Of course I love me some Jack Nicholson in Tim Burton’s “Batman” - I think he gave an undeniably frightening & charismatic performance just as Ledger & Phoenix (proof of the character’s universal & artistic appeal). Although Heath Ledger’s performance shall always be praised as a definitive milestone in Acting on Film - I still think the character is a twisted f**k (pardon my American).

Not only does Joker attempt to destroy Bruce Wayne’s personal Faith, but also everyone he cares about in his life, and everyone in the entire city of Gotham, USA. The pitiful tragedy of Joker’s existence is the sad truth that he lacks good faith in not only himself, but the people of Gotham, and the one individual who is genuinely trying to make a good difference in the world: Bruce Wayne.

It is a tragedy & a disgrace to humankind that Rachel Dawes & Harvey Dent (played by the Always-Excellent Aaron Eckhart) died in vain (as Thomas & Martha before them). It’s a sin that the Joker did what he did to everyone in Gotham City. It’s unGodly that so many human beings had to lose their lives, needlessly, just because of one individual’s own loss of innocence, and more specific, his loss of personal faith in his life (and in the world, of which, we live). The reason why Joker is dangerous is because he is the quintessential ‘mass shooter.’ He is the terrorist. He is the result of a society that has forgotten him. He is the reason why so many people struggle & suffer in contemporary society - not because he caused it, but because he fed into it - preying on the life force of humanity & destroying the efforts of truly good people who kept striving to save the soul of humanity (within the framework of a struggling eco-system).

If Bruce Wayne did not have friends he would have been dead in the first act of the story - that is a fact. When Dr. Jonathan (Not ‘Frasier’) Crane (aka ‘The Scarecrow’) had attacked Batman (in ‘Begins’) with the weaponized hallucinogens, Bruce Wayne was almost killed. If it was not for Alfred Pennyworth & Lucius Fox, Bruce would have been dead in the streets of Gotham. The consistent importance of Friendship is quite evident when thinking of Bruce Wayne’s network of acquaintances (both in ‘high’ & ‘low’ places) in the city of Gotham. This also applies in the opposite, with Bruce becoming an important (and powerful) friend to certain individuals of Gotham City (in return).

Friendship is a universal quality of humanity that should be cherished & honored. Friendship, like everything, requires effort. Bruce Wayne’s life requires effort even though he is a “billionaire playboy” - he still has struggles just like anyone else, and he shares the struggle with his friends (since they became a sort of surrogate family; more like extended-family; legal & spiritual guardians). Bruce Wayne is a fictional example that no one is free from life’s struggle and life’s personal challenges & lessons (no matter the ‘advantages’ or ‘upbringing’). It’s a sign of brilliance on behalf of the conceptual team behind the vision of The Dark Knight Trilogy. I know a lot of people focus on the action sequences and the drama of the theatrical dance of Light & Dark play out on screen in the form of the Batman & the Joker, but beneath the surface is a sincere sociological & political commentary (and spiritual message).

The Light & The Dark (i.e. Positive & Negative, God & Lucifer, Heaven & Hell, Angels & Demons, the Good & the Bad vibes, The Upward Infinity & The Downward Spiral, etc, etc, etc): it is at the fundamental core of our collective balance of existence; Life as we know it to be. It is my humble understanding that the eternal balance is a necessary process, it requires effort on both sides. Both Light & Dark must cooperate to preserve the equinox-of-existence (just one person’s opinion based off of observation & objective analysis, take it or leave it).

The death of Bruce Wayne’s best friend, Rachel Dawes, was not only a tragedy in Bruce’s life, it was a tragedy for innocence. She was so angelic & kind & giving & honorable & brave - her Faith is what helped Bruce remember his childhood innocence (before he was robbed of said innocence), and her last words (which were concealed from Bruce due to desperate-times-call-for-desperate-measures; see Alfred Pennyworth), she continued to spread the message of Good Faith in Humanity despite the fact that she was needlessly murdered. A defining attribute of Rachel Dawes’ character is one-in-the-same as Martha and Thomas Wayne - the Belief & Faith in Humanity despite the monumental heartache & loss (and yes, trauma & death).

If one recalls the time in the first act when Alfred was bringing Bruce Wayne back from the mountains of Bhutan - Alfred briefly mentions how Bruce Wayne’s ancestors’ tireless efforts to keep their community alive (even at the worst of times) nearly made them bankrupt. It was their tireless dedication (their faith) that paved the way to set a foundation for future generations to prosper (while honoring the efforts of said ancestors). Although their example did not improve Gotham’s economic prosperity overnight, the murder of Martha & Thomas Wayne set the wealthy of Gotham into action (as the story goes).

Bruce Wayne comes from a long lineage of helpers. Helpful People who are Good. People who want to see the best results out of humanity’s efforts (as a whole). People who believe in the power of the individual, and the social end-result of one individual’s tireless faith (and life choices).

Although Bruce Wayne’s ancestors are not the focal point of Batman, they are his bloodline & family’s history which in it’s own right deserves to be honored & respected (I know this is a fictional character, but roll with me here, people HahaHA).

Yes, “The Dark Knight” consists of nothing short of complete Mayhem, and YES, The Joker may make ya pee a little bit (just a little), and maybe even laugh (the writing is pretty damn genius in my humble opinion). I acknowledge that “The Dark Knight” should have been nominated for Best Picture (Double that for “The Dark Knight Rises”), and I acknowledge that Christian Bale should have been nominated for Best Actor his final performance as Bruce Wayne/Batman (I think he was snubbed, but hey I’m not in the Academy, so what do I know, right? HahaHA).

Speaking of “The Dark Knight Rises”, I still believe it’s the best Batman movie of all time. I understand (and have heard) many folks say “The Dark Knight” was a better movie, however, I believe (on the contrary) that not only is the third act of Christopher Nolan’s masterpiece a testament of cinematic storytelling - it is a testament to just how AWESOME we are when we perform at our best. When we work together, we are at our best (as a country, and as a people).

“The Dark Knight Rises”, at it’s core, is a cyclical nod to everything that was established in the first act of the trilogy (a perfect Full Circle), and of course, is the conclusion of Batman. Every lesson in Bruce Wayne’s life, every struggle, every enemy, every friend - every aspect of Bruce Wayne’s life is interwoven with Gotham City (and the people of Gotham) as he & his friends defend Gotham City (and everyone in it). In “The Dark Knight Rises”, Bruce Wayne has become a Hermit; locked away, half man, half mythos, in an air of mystery & fascination (among the ones who still speak of the elusive figure; a fading memory of a silent guardian). And as a hermit, Bruce has become deeply reclusive due to the Joker’s killing spree in Gotham City nearly a decade prior (while exploiting the sick minds & lost souls who stand for nothing [and truly fall for anything]).

While an average person would possibly accept Bruce Wayne’s physically-defeated, emotionally-scarred, and spiritually-damaged condition - Alfred Pennyworth (God Bless ‘em) does what any individual of Good Faith would do - he encourages Bruce. He sees Bruce as a human being, not as a symbol. He cares about Bruce Wayne’s life, his well-being, his overall fulfillment, and Bruce’s personal happiness. He chose to honor the pact he made with Thomas Wayne to protect the family fortune (most importantly, Bruce). Alfred Pennyworth has his own fascinating & rich history from his own backstory (having been a soldier in his younger years). Fact of the matter is, Alfred never stopped being a soldier at heart. He is True Blue; a true man of the cause; a true Englishman, a true American, and overall a true HUMAN BEING. He is a True Believer of preserving all that is sacred & righteous in our world. He is a Saint and he is a blessing (in contrast to Ra’s al Ghul’s curse-like presence; working in Bad Faith; a destructive force; almost the polar opposite of Alfred).

One thing I love about the final film in Nolan’s titanic, artistic, commercial, & cinematic effort is just how well the Production had managed to pull off the third act (having so many characters and SO much exposition) especially considering the factors that most wouldn’t even consider (i.e. Budget, Lights, Sound, Wardrobe, Set Design, making sure everyone’s hitting their marks, making sure all the stunt-work is safe, making sure it’s all coordinated to the “T” - the amount of brain-storming, conceptualization, the marketing, the pre-production, the principal photography, the post-production, etc etc etc). Movies that require so much of the cast & crew do not always work well, but Warner Bros. & Nolan’s Team somehow managed to actually pull it off. They did what no one else could do - they made Batman real. Christian Bale made Bruce Wayne real. He made Bruce Wayne truly Human (even if just for a moment).

In this day & age (with everything that just happened very recently in our very own United States of America) - one could find a jaw-dropping parallel to what happened when ‘Bane’ came to Gotham City (played ferociously by the envelope-pushing Tom Hardy; see “Bronson”, so gnarly) to what had happened to our own U.S. Capitol.

Bane is the darkness (cloaked with brute force) that feeds off of the fear of humanity. Bane is a product of The League of Shadows (with Hardy’s vocal performance being a nod to UK & Ireland Bare-Knuckle-Boxing Champion, Bartley “King of The Gypsies” Gorman), and was actually ex-communicated from the league (so the story goes) by Ra’s al Ghul (himself). Word around the campfire is that Bane is a force of nature (more destructive than known before) and will stop at nothing to ‘fulfill the destiny of Ra’s al Ghul.’ Bane is a result of fringe-Cult-Mind-Control-Indoctrination (a life devoid of pure faith & free-will entirely; typically due to some possible form of sincere trauma and/or loss and governing authority; aka The Darkness).

The legend of Bane is more rumor than fact. He is just as elusive as Batman, and just as evil as Joker (if not more). Bane’s physicality brings Bruce Wayne to his knees in the third act of Nolan’s 3-piece work-of-art, while also providing all of the intellectually-driven rationale (totally psychotic) behind his Madness & Apocalyptic ambitions. Bane is a real-life-threat to Bruce Wayne & Gotham City (and The American Way). Bane represents the overall threat to our way of life (as a humanity). Bane is everything wrong with world leaders & corrupt forces (cultivated into the most toxic physical form); like a deranged & disfigured Churchill who lumbers about (as a lion in a den) in the underground infrastructure of Gotham City’s sewage system (almost as a warped, drug-induced, Shakespearean Emperor). Bane is a deadly force of nature, fueled entirely by the sickness of bad faith; coerced into his own psychosis by probably the most complex & frightening character of the entire series - Talia al Ghul (a.k.a. ‘Miranda Tate’, played unnervingly-well by one Marion Cotillard [the child played by Joey King, respectively]; her performance sends chills up the spine upon numerous viewings).

While introducing Batman & Gotham’s new enemies, some of Bruce’s new friends in the final (and most epic) installment of Christopher Nolan’s Batman storyline are Officer [Robin] John Blake (played exceptionally by Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and a Wild-Card-Femme-Fatale character by the name of Selina Kyle (a.k.a. ‘Catwoman’, performed very well by Anne Hathaway). Joseph Gordon-Levitt shines as young Patrol Officer Blake - also having been an orphan, like Bruce Wayne, and a true believer in the purpose of Bruce Wayne (Batman) in Gotham City. Unlike Bruce, however, Robin is not a billionaire & Robin was not born into a life of privilege. Despite his brief backstory, Robin Blake, like Bruce Wayne, has Faith in Humanity. It’s why he puts on the uniform (speculative subtext). He does not have the luxury to become Batman, so just as Jim Gordon does - He works with what is given to him. He applies himself within the structure already established within Gotham (despite the restrictions & limitations of said structures of society). He, like ‘Serpico’ before him (see Al Pacino) is a regular Cop who just wants to do what the Law is supposed to do: To Protect & To Serve the good people of Gotham City.

Selina Kyle, on the other hand, is on a path between The Light & The Dark (on a sort of ‘spiritual tight-rope’ between the two paths). Selina’s life path is one of constant survival and constant running. As a ‘Cat Burglar’, Selina Kyle is a flat-out Crook. Her tough exterior conceals what truly is underneath her mask - a person who, too, has faith in humanity (proof that the ones who wander are not lost). Unfortunately for Bruce Wayne, as previously-mentioned, ‘Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures’ - and Selina Kyle’s desperation put Bruce directly into the hands of Bane & The League of Shadows (at a truly disturbing moment in the film). While forces of The League of Shadows’ (combined with a few of Wayne Enterprises’ own ‘bad seeds’, i.e. Daggett, Stryver, etc) disseminate chaos throughout the plot of “The Dark Knight Rises” (by destroying the city of Gotham and exiling Bruce Wayne across the world into a pit of hell) - all of the friends Bruce Wayne has made start to band together to organize a resistance with the surviving members of local (and once-established) authorities. The honor, the people, the community of Gotham City, and the overall driving spirit - the collective faith of the city (as a whole) had been damn-near destroyed entirely in this film. The resistance was born from those of whom are still faithful to their city and the rights of every individual who resides within.

Between the clandestine operations of Robin & his fellow law enforcement officers (all trapped underneath Gotham due to The League’s devastating terrorist attack), the United States Federal Government (and necessary agencies) & Wayne Enterprises (with ‘Miranda Tate’, Lucius Fox, etc), and the awe-inspiring action-sequences in this grand finale - there is no denial that the final installment of The Dark Knight Trilogy is the most realistic & visceral revolutionary epic set in modern-day America. It’s funny when one stops to think that this was all originally based off of a comic book character published by Detective Comics in the late 1930’s. It’s astonishing to think of just how far this fantasy story has evolved throughout the years.

Bruce Wayne is more than a comic book character. Bruce Wayne is a symbol of humanity. That is his ‘superpower’ - his Humanity. He is more than just a person fighting crime to honor his family’s faith & heritage - he is honoring the faith of humanity as it stands today. After all of the corruption & loss & trauma - Bruce Wayne never lost faith in what we have in life (even after losing so many loved ones and frequently having his own life in harm’s way). As he strives to defeat the darkness of Gotham (by striking fear into the hearts of those who prey upon the fearful), the force of darkness continues to rise to attempt to destroy & defeat The Light (Futility at it’s finest).

The greatest villain of all, Batman’s most incredible threat throughout the entire trilogy is actually Talia Al Ghul (Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter & heir to The League of Shadows; the true leader of the cult). She is the one who almost destroys Gotham City (if it wasn’t for Bruce Wayne and everyone who stepped up to do what was right to defend the city).

Although Talia does not fight Batman physically - she is the only villain who ever slept with Batman & exploited him with complete intimacy (seducing Bruce Wayne in a seemingly romantic moment in the film). Talia (still known as “Miranda” by this point in the story), appears innocent & sweet upon first glance, however with multiple viewings of the film, one begins to understand the disturbing nature of what Miranda/Talia is and is Not saying in Bruce Wayne’s presence (a brief glimmer of her spiritual void). Talia al Ghul truly is Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter and her light has been completely stamped out by the fact that she, not Bane, was the one who came out from the pit of hell (as it is revealed in the climax of this epic conclusion). The Devil lurks in many forms - in this particular case, Talia al Ghul displays the darkness as it exists in feminine form. Marion Cotillard was the most over-looked performance of the series (in my personal opinion) and I think as much as Tom Hardy does not get enough credit for his, at times, somewhat Macbethian performance (albeit not as flamboyant as Joker, but even more deadly) - I believe Talia al Ghul is the greatest threat to Gotham City in this trilogy (sorry, fellas).

While magnifying the character of Talia al Ghul, one must acknowledge her natural ability to be a ‘Wolf-in-Sheep’s-Clothing.’ She is the deadliest threat to Humanity due to her belief in a necessary demise of Gotham (seeing Gotham City as a hotbed of hypocrisy & imperialism). Talia al Ghul has no problem burning the barrel over a few bad apples (if that makes sense). While Talia is the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, she was also simultaneously dictating every strategy for The League of Shadows behind closed doors. She is the ‘Queen’, ‘The Head of The Serpent’, The Leader of ‘The Hive.’ She is the quintessential ‘Wicked Witch’, The ‘Bad Girl’, the ‘Goddess’, Kali, Baphomet, etc etc etc). She is an individual, born into a pit of darkness, and exposed to a potentially-life-shattering amount of trauma (based off of the staggering display of complete psychosis; albeit tremendously stealthy & downplayed under her facade of congeniality).

Talia al Ghul is the mastermind who inherited the crown from Ra’s al Ghul’s ‘throne’ (if that makes sense). She is a product of trauma, suffering, & loneliness, but more importantly, a severely sick individual who needs some serious mental & emotional help (more than Joker & Harley Quinn combined) and is the deadliest foe of all (due to her intellect & internalized rage & female fury & her knowledge of all things Gotham & Bruce Wayne/Batman). Talia al Ghul, like Batman, is a force of nature; especially due to her complete cutthroat tactics and inversion of personal Faith in Humanity. Talia al Ghul initially comes across as a meek & angelic person, responsible for the credibility & success of Wayne Enterprises. Her entire life, however, has been dedicated towards the infiltration of Gotham City, USA, and she is the only character in the film who is truly superior to Bruce Wayne in terms of sheer will-power (He caught up to her in the end though). What saves Bruce Wayne is his network of friends (Alfred, Jim Gordon, Lucius, Robin, Selina, etc), in addition to his mind, body, & spirit (once they attain alignment).

I don’t know what others have said, but I think Robin & Catwoman were actually done brilliantly in “The Dark Knight Rises.” Robin was a pleasant surprise for me as a viewer (truth be told; although I thought Ryan Gosling (GOS!) would have made an amazing Robin in ‘The Dark Knight Rises’; much respect for Joseph Gordon-Levitt), and Selina Kyle/Catwoman is fascinating due to her being the wild card of the last film (that truly helped level the playing-field; Girl-Power).

Catwoman, unlike Batman & Robin, is a big question mark throughout the majority of the last film. Her presence is just as elusive & threatening as Talia’s, however, Catwoman (unlike Talia al Ghul), underneath it all, is a Good Person trapped in a bad situation. That is a common thread in this storyline - Good people being in bad places (i.e. Jim Gordon, Lucius Fox, Rachel Dawes, Harvey Dent, etc). On the flip side of the coin - there are plenty of bad folks in good places amidst Gotham’s corrupt forces (i.e. Dr. Crane/Scarecrow, Carmine Falcone, Judge Faden, Detective Ramirez, Detective Wuertz, etc). It’s a reality known all too well in our modern society.

When one observes the overall arc of Bruce Wayne’s transformational life experiences in Nolan’s Comic Book Epic - I have to reiterate the notion of duality consistently interwoven within each one of these films. Light & Dark - Good & Evil - Positive & Negative - the eternal dance - it is the driving force of this franchise (as Bruce is the quintessential “Light Worker” - not that I’m soliciting ‘New Age’ [or ‘Old Age’ for that matter] ideologies, just a matter-of-saying). Bruce Wayne symbolizes The Light of God found in human form (at the very core and most-primary form of what Natives call, “The Great Spirit”, respectively), of which must seize the day to tame the night. Bruce is the epitome of a Capricorn/Aquarius cusp (Western Astrology/Zodiac) - in full force - bringing the water to those who are thirsty, bringing food to those who are starving, and healing the suffering of a people by means of very serious mental, physical, and Yes, Spiritual Work & Seriously Visionary Goals. Bruce Wayne is the Light while Bane is the Darkness of Humanity (the brute force, the inversion of light); the absence of faith. Although he does indeed have an inherent belief within his bones (and muscles reminiscent of mountains), Bane is still dependent on man-made ideologies & approaches (entirely based in the material world). The League of Shadows are attempting to summon the fires from hell in order to bring the dark prince into Heaven to seize the light (again, futility) to fulfill the devil’s ultimate lie (talk about a God-Complex..Oh me, Oh my) of Superiority (‘Can’t we all just get along?’).

When examining Talia al Ghul’s presence as a double-agent mastermind - her reveal is one of the most important plot twists of the series. Talia being a hidden “mole” within the resistance of Gotham City during The League of Shadows’ Hostile Takeover sets off Martial Law in Gotham - which sparks an uprising in the city that eventually saves Gotham (due to the efforts of a network of people who utilized adaptability & effective methods of coordination & action). Bane is to Batman as Talia is to Catwoman (just as Harvey is to Rachel; Duality; Gemini, Twins). What’s so incredible about Selina Kyle is her purpose in the story as a symbol that people CAN & DO redeem themselves despite having a checkered past (something a good amount of folks have in this day-and-age, myself included). Although the clandestine efforts of Gotham’s resistance had been futile due to the fact that Talia al Ghul was hiding in plain sight (a stroke of genius on the writing), Selina Kyle was the defining individual that tipped the scale in favor for Gotham City (and more importantly, Humanity as a Whole). She had an opportunity to leave Gotham and have a clean slate, but she had a personal moment-of-crisis... That’s because she has a soul, and in her soul, she knows, by faith & intuition, that humanity needed her help (one could speculate). She went back & risked her life (God bless her), which was a full circle nod, of which, echoed the sentiment originally planted within the first film: The moment when Rachel Dawes asked a younger Bruce Wayne, “..What chance does Gotham have if the good people do nothing?” (Edmund Burke; ‘Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents’ [1770], regarding the nepotism of a monarchy).

Talia al Ghul is a highly-complex character (next to Bruce Wayne) in the series due to the potential life she may have lead as an orphan born in the pit of hell (shot in the jaw-dropping landscape of Jodhpur, Rajasthan, India). She is also the most tragic due to the fact that she literally has an opportunity to leave her life of pain & suffering behind to be with Bruce Wayne, but succumbs to the ‘Shadow Side.’ ...You know something is ‘rotten in the state of Denmark’ when she would rather destroy the world than have a ‘happily ever after’ with Bruce Wayne. Her spirit fell back into the proverbial pit of despair & darkness (without ‘The Light’) that she had escaped from (in a metaphoric sense). Bane, like Scarecrow before him, is merely a pawn in the worldwide game of Chess (‘all the world is a stage...’). The tragedy of Talia is that she is someone who was born into darkness and literally had to pay for the sins of her father (as her mother did, tragically).

Talia al Ghul is the most heart-breaking villain of the trilogy simply due to her life being a complete tragedy. One begins to ponder if she had a romantic evening with Bruce Wayne simply because she had felt the cold winter of loneliness for too long, or if she desperately (just for a moment) wanted to be one with God’s Light & a person’s gentle embrace (although I don’t know I might be wrong - she was probably like “Hey, it’s either Scary-Ass Bane or six-pack abs Bruce Wayne. HMMM. Let’s tip the scale on that one - HAhaHa, I digress). Regardless of reasoning - Talia al Ghul’s complexity is probably no match for the intense unhappiness she carries with her. It’s no surprise due to the fact that her mother’s absolutely unGodly demise (so sad) was the catalyst that sparked her mission from Hell (with her hound-of-hell on a leash, aka Bane). As much as I may condemn Talia al Ghul & Bane - I want to reason with them. I want to listen to them and I want to let them know that America is not a bad place, and we are not a bad people. I want to find a common ground, and extend the olive branch (as the saying goes) in order to help heal their pain & misconceptions of Americans and Humanity (as a whole), without having to give my (or anyone else’s) life in the process.

I have a belief that if Talia al Ghul was given a fair & ample opportunity to have a better life in America - she would have taken it (if she had not been so deeply-programmed with hate). I have the understanding & more concrete belief that it is due to her life-long journey of trauma-based-indoctrination as the main culprit as to why she simply won’t cease & desist from committing further acts of wrath upon Humanity. Talia al Ghul could have put just as much effort into the healing as the killing (but she fell back into that spiritual pit). I know why she hates. She hates because she weeps, deep down inside in her soul at night (when no one is around), for her trauma & her unbearable internal pain. She hates because she is repeating the pattern of trauma that may or may not have been applied to her mind, body, and worst of all - her soul. She hates because she had hatred put into her (since being a small, innocent child) and she put that hatred out into the world (a severe lack of comfort, love, care, family, and yes - Faith). Although symbols of lightness, darkness, duality, and representations of sins & faith are all spread across this monumental achievement in film (without having to shove a Cross in someone’s face) - at the very core of this film is, again, the importance of faith in humanity despite our individual & collective tragedies (and shared injustice). The importance of striving, no matter the odds, no matter the pain, no matter how dark the night.

I believe the BEST moment in the entire story was the moment Bruce Wayne climbed out of the pit to save his people. He could have easily died a painful & shameful death in that ancient prison (while watching his city & country being destroyed by an insane fringe cult; a militia of madness; a false liberation). A lot of people seem to overlook just how incredible & truly powerful that moment is in “The Dark Knight Rises.” Tom Conti (a perfect performance of an apathetic mentor-like figure; complimented brilliantly by one Uri Gavriel as the exiled Medical Doctor of a Monarch) & Christian Bale’s overall dynamic in the entire pit sequence was a masterful stroke of storytelling (tying back to the first film, putting Bruce Wayne back where he first began). It’s fascinating to find Bruce Wayne, with a severely-injured body, having to rebuild himself and strengthening his spirit to rise out of the pit of despair - the pit of personal hell, the unforgiving pit of Time (Capricorn; Saturn; Kronos; “The Task-Master”, “The Reaper”; Reward or Punishment; Karma; The Lord of The Rings). The moment of truth comes when Bruce Wayne discovers (through numerous attempts) that it is his spirit that must rise to seize the light - without vanity, without any fancy gadgets, technology, tricks up his sleeve, or any clever contraption (or vehicle) to assist him in the process. This was a moment for Bruce Wayne and Bruce Wayne alone. This is what we call our moment to “Shine” as an individual being... our independent spirit. Bruce Wayne had to learn what it meant to climb out of the pit of hell and abandon his fear (as the child in the legend had done; Talia al Ghul).

The pit can represent many things to many different people. The eye of the beholder truly does apply to this (as well as any) story. For the individual to think & feel for one’s self - and to also believe in one’s self. The pit can be a literal prison - or it could be a wealthy kingdom. I know (from personal experience) the feeling of being at the pit of one’s own existence. I know what it means to be a prisoner trapped in one’s own body (due to unwanted pain & suffering & hidden trauma). I’ve learned the plight of humanity and the experience of suffering in the night (I’m just like everybody else). I have been there. I have known the darkness. I have known what it means to “dance with the devil under the pale moonlight” (as the expression goes). I’ve known what it means to defend the innocent from evil, thrusting myself into danger to save family members from toxic masculinity & extreme violence (since being a little boy). I have known the darkness, which is why I kept searching for my own personal truths & answers (which ended the day I had a near-death experience & literally saw The Light of God; 100% Serious). I have known all of these things, but I also know that the people who put that hurt into me had that same hurt (if not worse) put into them... That’s the paradox of trauma. The original source goes so far back it’s pointless to trace - which is why I look FORWARD in Life. I no longer dwell in the weight of one’s misery & spiritual darkness - I seize the light by choosing a good life (to fulfill my own purpose).

At the risk of my own humiliation & embarrassment (and at the delight of those of whom feel actual glee out of my personal struggles & suffering; God knows who you are), I can acknowledge that I am someone who has lived “in the darkness” before. I have known what it means to suffer and toil without the light of God in my life. I have abandoned my own belief in God before, and my own personal Faith before... it’s not something I am particularly proud of, and although I have survived various life experiences that made me plunge into the pessimistic side of life (having been mentally, physically, and yes - Sexually-Abused in my early childhood) - I reach out (in spirit) to anyone who may be reading my words, who has possibly fallen from the good grace of God (especially due to what has happened in our country). I, too, know what it is to lose faith in God & The True Light (as opposed to the Man-Made light). I know what it’s like to suffer & hate “The Believers” (my trauma came from a so-called “believer”).

You know, stories are more powerful than one may ever think (as well as Family, Friendship, Fun, and Faith). I have lived in my own personal hell before - I have ‘had it all’ and then lost EVERYTHING the following year. I have rebuilt my life SO many times (too many damn times), and I’ve learned one ultimate truth that I MUST share with everyone who is (and will be) alive to read these words...

..There IS A GOD. THERE IS A LIGHT. It may not be visible because we cannot see what lies beyond the veil of existence, but I assure you - Everyone is Alive for a REASON (and Individual Purpose). Women may have the divine gift of giving Life (RESPECT!), but we ALL have the gift of giving LIGHT (each in our own unique way). We all have a way to help heal and put something good into the world, despite our shared pain & trauma, as a people. We all deserve to be happy and have a decent opportunity for a healthy & happy existence (ESPECIALLY with our modern-day world; unless if folks start committing crimes and harming others and whatnot). I believe we are all at our best when we cooperate & coexist with one another (despite our individual differences). The Light does not need to shine out The Darkness just as The Darkness shall never overthrow The Light. We can live in a spiritual Harmony. We do not have to walk the same path. We do not have to share the same spiritual beliefs. I just think we CAN share this world (as I believe we are truly alive in what is known as the Garden of Eden).

We do not have to destroy ourselves to prosper. We can live among one another (with dignity & respect & honor). I’m not always happy to see that people willingly practice certain principles & “values”, but who am I to judge? That’s why God is here... It’s a tough lesson to accept, but it’s true. I should not judge someone just because they worship darkness - because at the end of the day that’s between them and their purpose in life - not mine. I have walked the line, but I never learned from others shouting in my face - I learned from listening & civility & patience & yes - Faith. That’s the purpose of the light - not to drown out the dark, but to work together (as Santa Clause & Krampus do), as a balance of necessary elements that will always be present in our own reality. We, as a contemporary society, have lost touch with the natural way of the world (well, a good amount of folks anyhow). We, as a humanity, have become so vain that we do not even know which way is Up & Down anymore - which way is truly Left & Right. We, as the soul of humanity, have suffered in the darkness for far too long (due to those who wish to control our individual light). We, as a country, MUST help one another climb out of our collective pit of despair - our sociological prison (cultivated through the last aeon), our ‘darkness.’ It has happened before and it can happen again - and to all of my fellow beings of whom shall always carry within us, The Light of Goodness, the love of God, and the wisdom of The Light - I say to thee: RISE.

I give Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy a PERFECT 10 out of 10! The most inspiring superhero franchise of all time (in my opinion). Bruce Wayne & Gotham City show us that Chivalry is NOT dead in The United States of America (despite our challenges). Christopher Nolan’s Cinematic Achievement is victorious in it’s final conclusion: Gotham City IS worth Saving, as our very own Humanity - and Yes - We can all have a better way of life without having to sacrifice our own lives in the process. We can rise to fulfill our individual & collective destiny (as decent human beings) and have, not the life we need, but the one we DESERVE.

*This is dedicated in loving memory to everyone who has lived & died in service of The Light..✝️

“I see a beautiful city... and a brilliant people, rising from this abyss... I see the lives, for which I lay down my life: peaceful, useful, prosperous, and happy... I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendents (generations hence)... It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known...”

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stressedspidergirlsfandomblog · 5 years ago

Text

update #3

or read on ao3

Mercifully oblivious to all that had taken place before, Geralt had untucked his shirt and used it as a temporary carry sack when he’d found an apple tree. He’d thought he could smell it, but hadn’t been sure and as such hadn’t bothered to say anything before going to investigate. It’s an odd find but perhaps when the land had belonged to the elves there had been more shape to this area. There’s ruins all over, it’s not an impossibility.

“You found breakfast?” Eskel asks.

“Smelled them,” Geralt explains, walking over to Roach first to offer her an apple. She takes it delicately and he tucks a few into her saddle bags for later before raising an eyebrow and tilting his head to Scorpion. Eskel nods and he passes the other horse an apple. Scorpion snatches it and Geralt draws his fingers back quickly rather than risk the horse taking those with the fruit. Roach snorts as if to tell him that’s why he should only share with her. Patting her neck, he walks back over and lets them take apples from his shirt.

“How did you smell them, I don’t smell anything,” Eskel says with a glance at Dandelion.

“That sweet smell, the rotting smell from the ones that fell…” Geralt shrugs. “You know my senses are stronger after they….” He trails off and looks at his hands. After they put him through extra trials.

“Ah, right,” Eskel mutters grimly. Dandelion knows the other witcher hadn’t forgotten. He’d just forced Geralt to share something he might not have otherwise. Dandelion bites into an apple, chewing thoughtfully.

They’d stared in horror as one boy’s eyes had bubbled and boiled in their sockets and he died screaming. Geralt had vomited for what felt like hours, Eskel gripping his hair to keep it out of his face, his hold was so tight it hurt. It wasn’t always done all at once, or in small batches, they never knew what to expect. You would never know on the Path what to expect, so you had to be constantly prepared. Nothing could have prepared Geralt for this.

Somewhere along the way he’d told himself it was an honor. He would be the best. He would save people, and hunt monsters, and be heroic. He would do good and somehow; he would find acceptance. He’d known there would be Changes. If they passed the Choosing, if they passed the training, if they were good enough, smart enough, strong enough, they would undergo the Trials and those who survived…There hadn’t been that many of them to start. Seven out of ten die. Seven out of ten. Would he be one? Would Eskel?

The Changes will strip you of your weaknesses, your feelings, your useless aspects of humanity. You will be superior, a mutation ready and able to kill. Able to withstand heat, cold, hunger, thirst, pain, and injury. They began learning early to hide emotions, to control them, to suppress them to prepare for who they would be after the mutations took hold.

Crying was a sure way to earn a beating. Too much laughter, because it meant a lack of focus. So many things had to be hidden away. He had learned that ‘fun’ wasn’t acceptable. You could take a sort of pride in doing something right but not boast. You could learn from each other, but pride was the way to downfall. Humility was what mattered. Knowing in no uncertain terms what you were, who you were, and what you would do was the goal. Unfettered by the softness of emotion. Fear, Vesemir had told them, was useful to a witcher because it kept him alive, provided he did not let it control him.

Thankfully Vesemir had never found out about his reaction to watching one of his friends die right in front of him. Eskel had a stronger stomach, but had silently cried as he held on to Geralt. Eskel survived the poisons when it was his turn. His eyes had hurt for days and he’d been sick for what felt like months. Geralt had done his best to bring Eskel food, keep him clean, and keep a damp cloth over his eyes when he wasn’t in training himself. He had made himself physically ill with worry and stress that another one of his friends might die and there was nothing he could do about it.

When Eskel had finally pulled through his eyes had been as yellow as any wolf’s and slitted like a cat’s. Geralt had been taken next. While he had been sick for a bit, he had no where near as bad a reaction as anyone else did, proving to be more resilient to the poisons. So he had found himself being subjected to more trials and experiments than his companions. Very few of them survived. The last mutation they put Geralt through bleached his hair and lightened his skin and had made him extremely sick. Eskel nursed him through it, stayed by his side through the pain and misery, and kept him alive.

One of the added changes had included a shift in his bones that had made his features sharper and less human. It had been agonizing. When he’d seen his reflection after all of it, he hadn’t known what to think. He didn’t recognize his own hands when he looked down, or his own body. His hair hadn’t necessarily been dark but it hadn’t been bleached white like milk. The light tan he’d had from working outside in the training yards and learning to hunt in the forests was gone and the scars were hardly a different color from the rest of his flesh. Eskel had been the one to hold him while he sobbed in horror and keep him quiet so no one would hear or know.

“Geralt!”

He startles badly, dropping a half-eaten apple into the dirt.

“Are you alright?” Dandelion asks, he’s in front of the witcher now, looking at him in concern.

“I’m fine,” he shrugs. Eskel is watching him closely and as much as he wants to learn into the other man he doesn’t. They’re all just memories now, it doesn’t matter. He rubs at his forehead and runs a hand through his hair to make sure it doesn’t look as bad as it could. He avoids mirrors and reflective surfaces. Has ever since he saw what the Changes wrought. He doesn’t recognize himself. Every time he catches a glimpse of himself it makes him freeze a little, wondering if that’s truly what he looks like now. For the most part, the boy he was has faded from memory, and he couldn’t have told anyone his original hair color, he doesn’t remember it. Nor his eye color, either. All the same the face that stares back at him is never the one he expects to see.

He jerks when an arm slips around his shoulders and he turns to fight but it’s just Eskel. “Your heart is beating hard,” he whispers, forcing Geralt against his chest.

“It’s nothing,” Geralt protests, his voice louder and more for the bard’s benefit than his own. He winces at the crunch of Eskel biting into his apple. It’s right by his ear and quite loud. The arm around him stops him from pulling away and he sighs deeply before settling in. Clearly he’s going no where fast.

Dandelion forces himself to finish his food, stomach feeling odd when he’d noticed Geralt drift away from them. It’s something he does here and there on the road, not with any real frequency but with enough that it’s never done much more than make Dandelion’s heart ache. He knows wherever the witcher retreats to, the memories aren’t pleasant. It had been hard to watch Eskel force Geralt into a hug and he’d wanted to tell Eskel to stop. But he hadn’t, he’d just kept pushing until Geralt caved. And then instantly Geralt had curled in, looking for comfort when he realized he was truly going to find it.

Tossing the core onto the dirt covering what used to be their fire he starts making sure the saddle bags are appropriately packed and the bedrolls tied to Roach’s saddle. Everything will be ready to go on his end. He steps away for a few moments to himself, and to let Geralt have a few moments with his friend.

“What were you thinking about?” Eskel asks quietly.

“The Trials, the changes, watching…” his breathing hitches. He couldn’t save any of them, couldn’t help them. Couldn’t even ease their pain. And all this years later he’s still carrying it all around inside of him. The failure. He shudders in Eskel’s embrace just like he had all those years ago.

“It’s over,” Eskel reminds him. “We are what we are. We lived.” They’re the last of their group. Not the last of the Kaer Morhen witchers, just the only survivors of the boys who underwent the training with them. Some others had made it just to die out on a contract. It pains Eskel, too, to think of them. He’s done what he can to forget their names and faces, not out of disrespect but as the only way to move forward. He didn’t kill them. He didn’t want them dead; they were his friends. Unlike Geralt, he never found any reason to blame himself. None of their lives had really been in their control until they left the keep.

He allows himself to stay close to Eskel for a few more breaths before he pulls away. This time, he’s met with no resistance. Geralt stands up and looks around. Dandelion has packed all their things and is standing with Roach. He’s been working tangles out of her mane. He holds out a hand to the other witcher to pull him up. All Eskel needs to do is attach his things to his saddle and he’s ready to move on. So he does.

They walk in relative silence, and Dandelion, being Dandelion, can’t stand it after a while and slings his lute around his shoulders so he can play as they walk. He’ll work out this song that’s forming in the back of his head. Geralt, used to the bard doing this, lets his mind wander. Eskel, on the other hand, has never had to suffer through the troubadour working out a song and finds himself listening intently.

As boys, book learning had been a part of their training. Knowing about the monsters they faced and how to defeat them was of utmost importance. Memorization and a keen eye for detail was also something that earned rare and much sought-after praise. Geralt had a good memory and genuinely enjoyed reading. His ability to retain most of their lectures helped the other boys as he would happily talk about it all night. They learned together, Geralt patiently repeating as many facts and details as he could as the other boys worked to memorize them. It was a nightly occurrence, rather than telling stories -because they had none- Geralt helped them remember the lectures. His quiet voice would fill the silence and help them all ignore the pain in their bodies as they tried to fall asleep for the night.

Vesemir frequently did bed checks to make sure the boys weren’t up to mischief but his patterns were random and they could never predict it. Not to mention they did not have the same enhancements he did and could not hear his footsteps before he could hear them talking and reach the room. Geralt had been the one talking, and while other boys had tried to take his punishment that night, they couldn’t. They had all done their best not to hear the slap of leather on skin and to ignore the hiss of pain each time the belt made contact.

Crying brought extra lashes, and so Geralt shed no tears. He’d learned that first week that showing signs of weakness would do nothing to help him. It would just make it unbearable. The logic was that they were being trained for a difficult job and disobedience and a lack of respect would get them killed. They would be on their own soon enough, and if they couldn’t learn what to do with oversight they’d surely die.

Geralt spent the night sleeping on his stomach, sleeping fitfully.

He looks over at Eskel when he feels the other witcher take his hand and squeeze it. “Do you remember we’d hold hands at night?” he asks. “Just like this.”

“Until Vesemir caught us.”

“So instead, every night we’d press hands just like this,” he squeezes Geralt’s hand again and lets go. He sighs heavily. “Not everything was horrible at Kaer Morhen. We had good nights, too.”

“And good days,” Geralt concedes. He has no idea if Eskel had parsed out his thoughts or was just talking about the past. “We grew up more normally than I think we realize. An apprenticeship of any kind isn’t meant to be softness and sugar. It’s to learn a trade.”

Eskel glances back, Dandelion is still fussing with his lute and doesn’t appear to be listening in on them. His tongue pokes out slightly past his lips and his brow is furrowed. Must be thinking hard, Eskel figures. In that same whisper they learned as children, he asks, “What did you want from the bard? Truly?”

“What I have. That’s enough.”

“In a magical world where you could actually have what you wanted. What would you have from him?”

Geralt looks away, and his skin feels hot. “We would be good,” he mumbles. “Like when Yennefer and I are good.”

Eskel understands that his friend doesn’t mean ‘good’ in a sense of morality or even functionality, necessarily.

“We would talk about things from Oxenfurt and he wouldn’t disdain me. Or tell me I’m too stupid to know the context so I can’t possibly comment on it. His fascination with me wouldn’t be because I’m a witcher.” He breathes through his nose and then swallows hard. “She sees me, Eskel,” he adds weakly. “We aren’t always good for each other, or good to each other, but she sees me.” Geralt rubs at his forehead for a few seconds. “She thinks I’m human.” He swallows convulsively. He misses that about her. “I wish the trials really did burn the humanity completely out of us. I try and try to push the feelings down, but they never stay gone.”

“Does the bard not see you?” he asks.

“He sees the witcher,” Geralt says simply.

Eskel thinks about Dandelion’s little speech by the fire. “I think he seems more. Just unlike your Yennefer he’s not willing to tussle with you head on.”

“Perhaps he thinks it isn’t worth it.”

“I think you’d be surprised. He still follows you around after all these years of your constant rejection.”

“I don’t reject him,” Geralt hisses, voice still barely audible.

“That’s funny, I don’t see you allowing him to touch you much.”

“The minute he realizes there is nothing special or interesting about me, he will be off to his next lover. Only to discover the same thing about him. There’s only so many places he can stick his cock before he gets bored and looks for something new. Everything is about the thrill and change and excitement. The minute he sees there is none of that in me…” his throat is too tight to swallow so he spits on the path.

“We don’t have to hate ourselves, Geralt. That wasn’t part of the training.”

“I withstood extra and still couldn’t be what they wanted or needed,” Geralt snaps back. Just like he cannot be what Yennefer needs, or what Dandelion wants or needs.

Eskel stops trying to engage Geralt in conversation after that. They’re not getting anywhere. When the white-haired witcher pulls himself into the saddle, Eskel watches him ride a little bit ahead. “Walk with me, bard.”

“Do any of you have manners?” he asks pointedly, but obliges, carefully shifting his lute so it rests against his back. He knows if Eskel is anything like Geralt he won’t answer that. Or rephrase his request to be more polite.

“I am not speaking about this with you again, and I will not interfere again. I already feel like what I’m doing is a betrayal, don’t make me regret it even more,” he cautions. “Whatever you’ve done to make him think your only interest in him is the adventure of traveling with a witcher, you’d best undo it. He wants more from you than a by-your-leave-fuck-and-go. He doesn’t think you want more than that from anyone, so if he’s wrong, you had best prove him wrong. In spite of anything he says, he’s an idealist at heart and wants more than what he thinks you have to offer him.”

Dandelion splutters incoherently until Eskel firmly tells him to shut up. He does, trying to get his mind to wrap around what he’s just been told. “He won’t talk to me.”

“Perhaps because apparently when he tries, you inform him he’s too stupid to have that kind of discussion with you?” Eskel suggests. He thinks about what Geralt had said earlier. “We did study at the temple of Melitele as children. We might not have the education you do, having studied at Oxenfurt, but he has the wherewithal to speak on what he’s reading. He wouldn’t bother to read it if he had no ability to comprehend it.”

“I don’t do that! I’ve never done that. I try to get him to join me in an academic debate and he just tells me to fuck off!” Dandelion protests.

“Has it occurred to you, that perhaps having not had a university education, that might be something he wouldn’t understand? We’ve lived history, bard, we can parse it out. We know what it is to see empires rise and fall and know they will again. We know what it means to see power corrupted, and bad rulers, and cruel leaders. None of that is foreign or beyond comprehension. I don’t know what an academic debate is in the sense you do, but perhaps he just doesn’t want to argue with you.”

“You state an opinion and then you argue it using facts from the text, or something similar. It’s not meant to…it’s how most of us…we’d just start…oh, dear.”

“This is now your problem, not mine,” he shrugs and swings himself up into his saddle.

Dandelion feels and rejects the urge to hate Eskel. He also resists the urge to cry. That won’t help anything. He understands what Eskel is telling him. He’s been going about everything all wrong. And in doing so, he’s also hurt his friend deeply across the years. It’s not as if they haven’t argued, or fought, or Geralt hasn’t hurt his feelings badly on more than one occasion. It’s just that he hadn’t realized it was in the little things, too. Eskel’s pointed questions about if he even knew Geralt at all sting far worse now than they did before. He latches onto the fact Eskel had told him Geralt wanted him. In spite of all of this, Geralt wanted to be with him.

Eskel catches up to Geralt fairly easily, and nudges Scorpion to walk close enough he can lightly kick Geralt’s stirrup.

“What?” There’s an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before, and he’s clearly expecting another form of rebuke.

“Why do you make him walk?”

“Roach can’t carry us both for long distances.”

“Really, though, you have the ability to walk far longer than he does.”

“Roach hates when he rides her and plays his lute. I hate when he’s right in my ear, playing the lute.”

“You like his music,” Eskel half asks, wondering what other odd barriers his friend has put up around himself. “When did you become like this, Geralt? What happened?” he asks softly.

“When they botched it all.” He lightly kicks Roach into a faster walk and she jerks her head a bit in protest, forcing him to keep a firm grip on the reins.

Dandelion watches them close the distance and then sees Geralt widen it again. At least it’s something consistent about him. He isn’t too surprised that Eskel doesn’t try and catch up. He travels close to the dark-haired witcher for hours. Outside of him fussing with his lute, neither one of them speaks much. Night begins to fall and Dandelion sighs. Another uncomfortable evening awaits.

He automatically starts helping Geralt set up camp again, he knows exactly how the other man likes things done. The fire is started already, some extra branches and sticks piled nearby. Too far for a spark to catch but close enough to allow them to stay in the protective glow once darkness falls. “Are you alright?” he asks Geralt quietly when they pass each other in their respective tasks.

Geralt simply grunts and ignores the question the same way he would a thousand times before.

“It’s me, you can tell me,” Dandelion pleads softly. He catches Geralt by the sleeve and tries not to look as hurt as he feels. “I know you, as much as you’ll let me at least. What’s wrong?”

A million things flash through Geralt’s head and he can’t catch a single coherent thought to give the bard an answer. He pulls his sleeve away and shakes his head a bit. “You’re just reading into things. Imagining all sorts of things and depths that aren’t there.”

“I’ll see if I can find more rabbit. Or perhaps something a bit larger,” Eskel tells them and heads out into the gathering darkness.

“That’s not fair, Geralt. I’ve been at your side off and on for years now. I’ve done my best to keep myself to myself, and to not push you into anything. I knew you didn’t like being touched. Or so I thought. I thought you’d learn to tolerate me, I didn’t realize you ached for it, you stupid bastard. How many nights could we have spent in each other’s arms if you would just stop lying to me when I ask you a question?”

“Why would you want to be in the arms of a stupid bastard?” he retorts. “I’d rather not be,” he adds, checking the picket line for both Roach and Scorpion. They both seem fine. He’d initially been worried the mare would take offense to being stuck with a male horse, but she hadn’t tried to pick any fights. Of course, Scorpion hadn’t tried to mount her.

Rather than scream or have a fit, Dandelion marches over to where Geralt is standing and slips his arms around the witcher’s middle and braces himself for some kind of attack. He knows Geralt won’t do worse than knock him over, but all the same he’s ready for it. When nothing happens he dares to open his eyes. He’s still standing there, his arms are still around Geralt, and they aren’t moving. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“You could have fooled me,” Geralt points out, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“Why would I follow you around everywhere if I really thought that? Why would I try and talk to you and ask you questions and listen to you when we travel?”

“For the songs,” Geralt says softly. “For your fifty years of poetry. For the singular joy of being able to tell the world you can walk beside a witcher and they can’t.”

“Truly, that’s what you think?” Dandelion is aghast. “How could I possibly, how could you possibly… we’ve been together off and on for…Geralt, how…” He releases his hold to reach up a shaking hand to Geralt’s shoulder to try and turn him. The witcher allows it but won’t look him in the eyes. “I am so sorry.” He can’t even fathom why Geralt has let him stay by his side this long if this is what he believes about their relationship. Perhaps it’s just so he didn’t have to be alone, clearly he doesn’t mind some company, given how quickly he had settled in with Eskel. It had been years and yet immediately he’d been in the other witcher’s lap in seconds.

“I don’t know what to think,” Geralt turns his face away. The misery Dandelion is feeling burns his nose he can smell it so strongly. “I’m not human, Dandelion. I don’t…”

“But you are, Geralt. You are human,” the bard interrupts, daring to cup Geralt’s cheek. Gently and half afraid, he presses a kiss to the witcher’s cheek. Now isn’t the time for anything more than that, and he knows it. “I admit that when we started out travels, I wanted the fame being the first to know your stories would bring. And it has brought me plenty of attention. I’ve come to know you somewhat, perhaps not as deeply as I’d hoped. I see I’ve made many mistakes and wrong assumptions. But Geralt, I don’t stay with you for the songs. Not for years. A few months in I knew…” his throat squeezes. He can see the misery and pain in his companion’s face. “At first I thought you’d never be interested in another man. And then a few weeks ago I learned that wasn’t the case. Geralt, I genuinely enjoy being with you. Even when you’re trying to push me away.”

Geralt sharpens his hearing, checking the woods around them as he tilts his head slightly. He’s not sure if he wants Eskel to come back or not and interrupt this. Would it be embarrassing to have him overhear? Or just a welcome relief to make the conversation stop. He rubs at his forehead, wishing this wasn’t happening. His heart has dropped into his stomach, he feels, and has chosen to beat there, making him feel ill. What is Dandelion saying? Is this going to be a goodbye? A way of him saying that this is enough and there’s just no way to move forward? “I can’t be what you want,” Geralt tells him abruptly.

“I didn’t ask you to be anything,” the bard protests. He takes Geralt’s hands and squeezes them. “I am just learning there’s another side of you, and I know that side might not be something I see again. Or can coax out of you, but I am content with you as you are. Or at least as you want to show yourself to me. I know your heart is good, Geralt. I know under all that stoicism and anger you’re a good man. You won’t let yourself believe that or believe that I can see it. You…I wish you could see yourself as I see you,” he whispers softly. He’s surprised and hopeful that this might all work because Geralt has not pulled away. He’s tighter than a bowstring and seems to be shaking a little, but at least he’s listening.

“And once I give you what you think you want; you’ll find it wasn’t enough and you’ll go searching again. I’ll be left as I was before you decided to trail me around.”

“And what exactly do you think I want?”

“You think you love me,” Geralt tells him, voice maddeningly calm. “You think you love me, the same as you thought you loved all the others. You’re full of affection and kindness and it spills out everywhere you go. And so you’ll fuck me, and kiss me, and you will change our entire relationship and rearrange my entire world, and then you will realize that there’s nothing special to be had. I won’t be enough, and so you’ll go back searching. And another beautiful woman will thrill you the way I used to, or perhaps another man. Eventually, maybe one day when you are old and tired of flitting about you will find someone to settle with. But it won’t be me,” he’s proud his voice doesn’t crack. “I don’t want to open that door, Dandelion. I can’t because when you shut it on me I won’t be able to bear it.”

“Geralt, I think you misunderstand more than you understand. At least about that. I thought I could never have you. I thought you would only sleep with women. And so I found a willing body to share my affections with because I couldn’t sleep beside you night after night and not want to touch you. It wasn’t fair or right, I felt, to sleep next to you and want you. Eventually the temptation might have won out and you’d have throttled me for it. Or banished me from your side forever. Some nights I would lie awake aching for you. The moment we reached a town where I could steal away some time to alleviate that ache, I did. Could you imagine how I would have felt, how embarrassed? Waking up next to you with my cock hard dreaming of touching you the way I’ve wanted to for years?”

“If I understand, and can imagine correctly what you’re saying to me, is you want me so badly you’ve fucked everyone but me.” He thinks he does understand a little. Maybe not entirely.

“I couldn’t very well walk around with my cock hard every time I saw you, I had to do something about it. And it would be very uncomfortable to use my hand while sharing your bedroll. Especially with your witchery senses,” the bard protests. “If I had known you thought it meant I could not remain faithful to anyone, I might have done things differently.”

Geralt swallows hard and shrugs, he has no words for any of this. This is beyond anything he’s ever had to deal with, and unlike Yennefer, Dandelion can’t pluck the thoughts and feelings from his head. How could they both have made such a mess of things? “I don’t think we know each other at all, not how we thought,” he forces out, and the shame chokes him.

“I think we know each other well enough,” Dandelion argues. “But I also think perhaps we’ve spent so much time trying to hide from each other we’ve done each other a great disservice.” He takes a few breaths and Geralt can hear his heart racing. “I love you, Geralt. I have for years. I might not know all your secrets, or how to always best be your friend. But I know your heart. I know your habits, I know that you are so much more than you believe yourself to be. I’ve said it before and I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it. I know so many small details about you, the way you write your letters, how to pack up your bags the way you like, do you think I would learn all of that if I didn’t care?”

With a deep sigh, Geralt leans in to press his forehead gently against Dandelion’s. “We have days before we’ll reach a town.”

“I know,” Dandelion tells him, confused.

“I need time. I need time to think. I need time to try and understand. I love you, but I don’t know if I can bear losing you. I would rather have you as a friend than lose you as a lover.”

“You wouldn’t,” he insists. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I have never seen you do differently,” Geralt says gently. “Please…” he begs and Dandelion understands that Geralt truly does need time.

“I understand,” he says finally, heart heavy. He isn’t sure what he expected. It wasn’t as if he’d thought Geralt would suddenly kiss him or sweep him off his feet. Or had he? He pulls back slightly and presses a light kiss to the corner of Geralt’s mouth. When Geralt turns his head again, listening intently, he hears footsteps and slowly releases Dandelion’s hands after giving them one last gentle squeeze.

“There’s a stream, I think. We should be able to wash our clothes soon,” he says as a peace offering. And a change of subject. Geralt steps away to reassure himself that it’s Eskel’s footsteps he’s hearing, and not someone else. He isn’t so sure he didn’t break his own heart just then. At least he did it now, before Dandelion could push him into more. The idea of the bard’s body against his makes his entire body ache to be touched. Some part of him vaguely understands why the bard might seek other bedmates if he felt like this all of the time.

“Geralt?” Eskel seems almost surprised to find his friend walking towards him. He has a small deer slung over his shoulders.

“Impressive.”

“I know we don’t have time to properly dry the extra meat, but it might keep for a little longer than a day if we cook enough. Save me some trouble tomorrow.”

“I could hunt tomorrow, if you’re that tired of it.”

“It’s not that,” Eskel promises. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” Geralt tells him honestly. He has no idea why he came out this way, other than perhaps to get some much-needed space.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Geralt lies.

“Geralt.”

“I think when we reach the town, Dandelion will leave me,” he says quietly, his throat squeezing and making it near impossible to talk.

“Did you try and drive him off? Did you agree to part ways?” Eskel asks, deeply confused. He keeps walking towards their campsite but does it slowly.

“No, he said some things…and it isn’t…I’m not… I think he understands now. I think the illusion he had, I don’t know.”

“You’re making no sense whatsoever,” Eskel informs him. When they reach the clearing the bard is sitting morosely by the fire, strumming his lute. The notes that fill the air are miserable and Eskel has a feeling the bard has no intention of leaving. He’s just had a rather rude awakening. He drops the deer by the fire. “Do you mind skinning it? I want to see if I heard running water or not, and I’d fill our waterskins and make sure the horses had enough.”

“I can manage,” Dandelion says. “I’ll even get it set to cooking.” He tries to be cheerful. “I found some tubers I know aren’t poisonous though I don’t know the name. It should make a nice change along with some of the extra apples. We’ll have a feast,” he smiles weakly.

“I’m going to need Geralt’s help,” Eskel informs him.

“I wouldn’t stand in your way,” Dandelion tells him agreeably, putting the lute away and exchanging it for a sharp knife.

Eskel goes to his pack and gathers up what he needs before untying Scorpion’s lead so he can walk the horse to the water. Geralt does the same, finding Dandelion’s mostly empty waterskin as well. He’ll fill their small cookpot, too. They walk the horses to the edge of the water, and Geralt notes with disappointment that it’s much too small to do any kind of swimming or find any enjoyment in it. At least they should be able to rinse some of the sweat from their clothes. Eskel takes Roach’s reins from Geralt and secures them to a branch overhanging the water along with Scorpion’s. The horses can reach the water and reach some grass. He sets down the waterskins and takes Geralt’s, too. They can fill them in a minute.

Eskel eases his arms around the other man’s shoulders and holds him tightly. Geralt goes rigid in his arms for a few seconds, trying to master himself. He can’t, it just hurts too much. Dandelion is not a patient man, and Geralt can’t imagine how he’ll work through all of what he’s feeling in time to keep the bard. If he should even try. What if he’s right and they’ll ultimately fail?

“They never did figure out how to make your heart hard, did they?” Eskel asks him quietly, and Geralt tries to laugh but it comes out as a choked sob. “I think they managed with Lambert and Coen, but it also made them stupid, so perhaps we got the better end of the deal. Time seems to have done that to Vesemir just fine. Or perhaps his unfortunate trip to the bottom of the privy is what managed that.”

That does manage to make Geralt laugh just a bit. That’s probably one of his favorite memories and he finds himself clinging to Eskel as the laughter turns to silent tears. He had just wanted to help others. To be knighted, to be good and his whole life revolved around contracts and money. Going hungry, being chased out of towns because of his appearance, being told he had less rights than others because he was less human. It would be easier if he could be the witcher he pretends to be. Cold, aloof, unfeeling.

“My biggest fear is that I’ll turn into someone like Vesemir,” Eskel says quietly. “I’d rather feel pain if it meant I could still feel happiness, too.” This isn’t a conversation he could have with just anyone. Their bond is deeper than any other he’s had in his life. He knows Geralt will understand. If someone were to observe them near the keep, or in hostile towns, they would see two very different men; hard, cold, dangerous, and empty of morality.

Here, in the forest at night, with no one to hear them, they can be themselves for a few moments.

Here, in the forest at night, with no one to hear them, they can grieve the boys they were, and the men they might have been.

#geraskier #gerlion #jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher #my fic

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iobjectfa20 · 4 years ago

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OAXACALIFORNIA: For the Pride of Your Hometown, The Way of the Elders, And In Memory of the Forgotten

“And That Is How They Hid The Sun” by Oaxacan art collective, Tlacolulokos (Dario Canul & Cosijoesa Cernas). This mural is part of a larger exhibit, OAXACALIFORNIA, which can be found online in the Museum of Latin American Art (MOLAA).

How & Why I Chose This Piece

The greater exhibit, OAXACALIFORNIA, showcases the complexities of language, migration, and culture specific to the experiences of Oaxacan (Oaxaca being the capital of Mexico) and Indigenous community members residing in Los Angeles, California. It aims to explore how these facets of identity have been integrated with that of non-Indigenous people (who function as agents of settler colonialism, regardless of intention), while simultaneously honoring the traditions of ancestors past. What immediately drew me to this specific piece was the juxtaposition of it’s red, gold, and blue colors. While the exhibit in its entirety uses the red and gold patterned background, it at once subverts this feeling of comfort with the choice to incorporate such a contrasting color such as blue in this specific mural. The blue also emphasized certain unrecognizable features of the mural and consequently piqued my interest.

Taking a step back to examine the actual people and objects situated in the work, I could already deduce that this was meant to provide commentary on a few key aspects of society; religion (due to the robed figure on the far left donning a black robe and a cross-patterned shirt), the relationship between policing systems and religion (as shown by the batons positioned to create a cross at the foot of the robed figure), and culture (demonstrated by the different styles of clothing each person is wearing). Additionally, the context of the exhibit is to reinforce the importance and presence of Indigenous life despite the consistent whitewashing of history. I could therefore conclude that this in one way or another was attempting to push against dominant colonial narratives and also attempting to remind spectators that this history is not stuck in the past. Colonization is frequently framed as an unnameable atrocity of the past, but it is not often enough recognized as a trauma that has manifested to fit our world today. This piece insists on being recognized as a contemporary struggle while also affirming the Indigenous peoples ability to thrive regardless of all that they face.

Despite knowing all this there was so much that was not familiar to me, such as the pants of the portrait’s middle character, their tattoos (or that of the person creating them), and the cultural artifact to the far right side. I was also really interested to see how language would be incorporated into a medium that was largely visual, and while we do see a phrase in Spanish, I was not yet sure about it’s meaning in the exhibit as a whole. I knew there was much more occurring than I could grasp based on my limited knowledge of Oaxacan and Indigenous communities, and it was my job to unravel that understanding from this mural. This is why I chose this piece. Not only does it echo a familiarity of colonial narratives that many of us grew up being educated on, but it de-centers this whitewashed history and instead encourages us to engage directly with the cultures of these communities. It forces us to dedicate time and effort to truly understand how this work is a piece of global resistance.

Reframing as Object of Resistance Global Novels are about expanding our world view, about circumventing structures that exist to repress all expressions of identity. In studying this genre, we have been able to access various works that asked us to consider the magnitude of storytelling. It is not enough to just acknowledge the existence of these stories, but we have been tasked with challenging the people who have been positioned to tell them. Art exhibits accomplish much (if not all or more) of the same things, and both mediums allow us to reflect on our own experiences and create interpretations that would not exist otherwise. OAXACALIFORNIA falls right in the middle of this mission as it is celebrating life, tradition, language, and reaffirming Indigenous communities' place in history and in the world today. It simultaneously collapses whitewashed narratives that have somehow tokenized Indigenous people in a way that suspends them in the past --- they are not honored as they exist in our communities now. Because this piece is framed within a colonial context, it is automatically assuming the position of a reimagined history. Both Canul and Cernas have expressed that the exhibit contains significant ties to Oaxacan, LA, and Indigenous cultures. Thus, this piece also functions by tying together generations of migration and stories. At face value this mural literally depicts several people, but there is a deeper underlying meaning that directly opposes the regurgitation of popular colonial accounts. Firstly, the Catholic priest on the far left is dressed in a black robe with patterned print underneath. The print contains imagery of the cross, and lying at this figure’s feet are two police batons that take on the shape of a cross. The battle helmet that they are wearing has the words “Born to Kill” engraved into the side, and they are wearing combat boots that are barely visible beneath the robe. This figure is also pictured holding a police baton in one hand (mimicking a crucifix) and an open religious text that is decorated with the imagery of death on the other. One should also note that the hand wrapping around the baton is skeletal, almost ghostly, and seems to mirror the picture of death on the open book. Combining all these characteristics together it is as if they are attempting to bless the person who is sitting down, but with promises of salvation through violence, policing, and deception (characterized by the fact that their face is being mostly shielded from the audience) much like the European conquistadors during the continent's pre-colonial era. This also calls forth the issue of police brutality that Black communities and communities of color face at the hands of the police officers, once again making this piece more contemporary than meets the eye. They are positioned in a way that makes them taller than the other two individuals, but they feel more blended in with the background as they are wearing duller colors. Next, we have a person who appears to be sitting down and getting drawn or tattooed on. Their chest, right arm, and ankles are covered in tattoos, and the ankle tattoos almost seem to mimic the print of their pants. They are wearing a bright blue cap backwards, dressed in sweats, and Nike sneakers. This person’s expression is one of bravado and they’re holding onto a machete, which is symbolic of resistance to the systemic, ideological, and physical violence experienced at the hands of colonizers. While that seems to be all that is going on, the emphasis of the bright blue colors led me to do research on the significance of the clothing. The sweatpants have actually been sown together with traditional wear for the highly respected “Danza de la Pluma/Dance of the Feather”. The dance is full of lively music, vibrant clothing, and the presence of ancestors (acted through the people dancing) that are meant to be honored. It existed long before colonization occurred and was specifically honoring the Aztec gods (i.e. of rain, sun and corn to name a few). After colonization it then began to also commemorate the survival of Indigenous peoples despite the violent intervention of Europe. The blending of traditional wear with the sweatpants and overall mainstream outfit (i.e. the only other blue accessory, the cap) are emblematic of the multiplicity of identity. Regardless of how much has changed sociopolitically, a person’s identity is their own to dictate and these identities do not exist in vacuums. Lastly, the person that seems to be tattooing is the more discreetly proactive character. The tattoos that have been drawn on the middle person’s chest are that of ships adorned with crosses on their masts, of lightning storms, and of the word “Raza/Race” on their abdomen. Because this last person is placed in a position of creating these images, this speaks more directly to the core of this project; the reimagining and rewriting of history by those who have been harmed. The waves lashing out at the base of the ships seem more fiery, like flames, and all of these combined illustrations create a tempestuous recounting of European colonization. These colonizers are the bringers of chaos in this story. It’s also important to note that this third person’s hand is dissolving into the body of the person sitting. Both people become one in this shared past and this tattooing process is consensual, reassuring the audience that both are partaking in the sharing of their truth. There is empowerment and autonomy here. While their expression is that of bravado (as mentioned earlier), the teardrop is representative that there is no bravery without expressions of pain and sadness. Whether this sadness is due to the remembrance of this agonizing past or the literal process of tattooing, it has become memorialized as part of their experience all the same. While religion was weaponized, it is also a testament of union and community. It is undoubtedly true that Christianity and Catholicism were vehicles of violence for the European settlers, but now that both have become ingrained as an integral part of certain Oaxacan communities (re: the tattoo of a rosary on the third person’s left hand), it has been reworked as a mode of unification and of finding each other. All of these truths can exist at once but it was imperative to Tlacolulokos to create a piece that was frank in it’s portrayal. This piece also transcends borders, such as those of California (LA) and Mexico (Oaxaca), and highlights the issues of Indigenous displacement. The theorist that immediately came to mind was Dr. Aihwa Ong, author of Flexible Citizenship: The Cultural Logics of Transnationality. Dr. Ong uses the imagery of a passport to disturb the conventions of “state imposed” versus “personal” identity. Not only does the passport symbolize a state imposed sense of identity (much like the creation of borders), but Ong outlines how a diasporan subject inherently resists these sanctions. Tlacolulokos have curated for us through their art the understanding that Indigenous people have been labeled as “other” and “inferior”, despite being displaced from their original land and right to sovereignty. There is an understanding that these marginalized groups now have learned to mold themselves around societally imposed expectations. Similarly, Ong explains that the concept of “citizenship” is always changing due to physical movement and displacement, and due to cultural exchange. This is exactly the rhetoric that this mural is attempting to emulate. In its entirety, this mural depicts the movement of people across borders (metaphorical and literal), and about the fact that these communities continue to exist regardless of how they are erased from institutional spaces. Despite the fact that the US government continues to ostracize and disrespect Indigenous people, these communities are continuing to find each other through the tracing of familial lines and self-identification. This exhibit addresses themes of being silenced by solidifying its place in history through documentation in a visual form. It is a memorialization of previously existing in a mythic state; of existing between reality and fantasy. However, this piece and the exhibit as a whole reassures audiences that these communities are very real and still deserving of appropriate recognition and care. On a final note, these pieces were commissioned by the Los Angeles City Central Library to counter the original murals that were situated on the museums walls. The original paintings (commissioned in 1933) depicted the European and Indigenous people in painfully biased ways --- the Indigenous as weak, submissive, and enslaved, while the Europeans were construed as symbols of power, wealth, and civility. The act of placing the new murals by Tlacolulokos directly underneath the older work is the museum’s way of addressing the pain that had been perpetuated by their previous commission. While I can’t speak to whether or not this is enough to rectify the harm done by the museum (as I myself am not Indigenous), Tlacolulokos has definitely embraced this as an amends.

--- Zenaida R.

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